#just take everything i know about anatomy and throw it out the window

[mullydoodle]

Day 5/69

[goxjo]

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ. 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝 ﾟ･｡･ﾟft. gojo, choso, sukuna, toji

♡ warnings. no reader pronouns, fem anatomy! reader, technically hate fucking, reader is initially very pissed, he is too but he wants to make up, no curse au (choso + sukuna), everything is consensual. gojo cw: some reckless driving, semi-public sex, doggy, getting caught, exhibitionism. choso cw: reader is in a bunny lingerie costume, slight! pet play, suddenly popping a boner, v! fingering. sukuna cw: petty arguments, jealousy, v! fingering. toji cw: jealousy, implied size difference, kabedon!!!, cunnilingus, wall sex. 18+ only, MDNI

♡ a/n. idk if you can already tell by now - I usually make these whenever I have new banners / formats to try out. I really love that heart bubble thingy on the title lol + idk, arguments like these feel a little endearing sometimes. this was very fun to write. enjoy!

♡ links. GEN. MASTERLIST ┆ JJK MASTERLIST

[ ❤︎ ] GOJO SATORU

The car ride home tonight is silent for the most part. It’s your car, your hands on the steering wheel, and therefore your rules. Maybe you haven’t been looking at your speedometer but in case you haven’t noticed, your anger adds more pressure to your foot on the pedal, and you’re a few kilometers past the highway speed limit.

All this because of some petty argument and you barely even remember what it’s about. All you know is, it’s one that made you miss an exit, and it’s another 20 minutes before the next one.

“Baby, slow down.” He sighs with a tinge of worry and slight irritation in his voice. He’s not really keen on the idea of having to watch you flirt with an officer to get out of a speeding ticket. He’ll throw puppy dog eyes to the officer himself if he has to, but he’s putting a pin on that thought for now. There must be something that could remedy the situation (you) for now.

“Don’t talk to me,” you deadpan, lips pursing in your annoyance, eyes dead fixed on the road.

“Fine. Then, I won’t,” he hums, an idea suddenly popping up in his head. “I won’t talk to you. I’ll just…” He fiddles with the hems of your skirt, knuckles lightly stroking your plump and exposed skin.

“What the hell are you doing?” You shift in your seat, quickly taking a glance at your boyfriend.

“Not talking.” It starts with just his fingers, now it’s a full hand, and it’s squeezing and massaging your thigh, reaching higher and higher up till it’s a hair away from your clothed sex.

“That’s a dangerous game you’re playing, Satoru.” You gulp, and he doesn’t fail to notice your breath has shifted, taking deeper inhales and longer exhales the closer he gets to your panties.

And he knows it’s a dangerous game. But hey, at least you’re not in danger of getting a ticket anymore. He’s glad you’re distracted. One finger hooking on the waistband of your panties is enough to make your breath hitch. Watching you chew on your bottom lip puts a strain in his pants knowing you’re trying your hardest not to be the first to break. You’re so cute when you’re angry, focus never breaking when you reach the woodsy outskirts of your exit, and he wonders if you took the wrong turn.

“Why are we here—”

“You fucking idiot.” You’re fuming as you unbuckle your belt, making your way to the backseat.

“I fucking love you.”

….

He’s never seen you cum so fast before, never seen you more vocal, fingers raking into the leather of your back seat, not a care in the world how expensive it’s going to be to have it replaced. He should piss you off more if it means he’ll have you on all fours again in your car in the middle of the woods, begging and screaming for him to fuck you deeper and deeper a nearby town could mistake your cries for a mating call.

He finds a neat little discovery too when a light shines on your window, practically blinding you, and your insides coil around his cock he’s almost sure he was locked in knots. You’re so fucking hot when you’re embarrassed, unable to help the moans that escape your lips even when a cop knocks on your window.

[ ❤︎ ] KAMO CHOSO

“I already told you I’m sorry!”

You won’t budge, half-sulking-half pissed with your back turned to him on the bed, sitting on your folded legs. You refuse to talk to him too so he settles with hugging you from behind, bunny tail pressing against his crotch. You feel his fingers fidgeting against your stomach, clearly remorseful for what he did. Your boyfriend is the last person on earth who could forget about special dates, let alone an anniversary — or so you thought.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please forgive me.” And you want to forgive him. But you had already spent the last few weeks finding the best anniversary costume present, only to be met with questioning heart eyes at the bunny ears and frilly lingerie, wondering what’s the occasion.

“It’s fine, forget it. Just leave me alone.” You try to wriggle out of his hold, only grinding against him kn the process.

“Won’t let go till I know you’ll allow me to make up for it.”

“Stop, it’s done okay — wait, are you…” At first, you thought it was your puffy tail pressing on your ass but you realize that’s definitely not the case when the thing behind you tripled in size.

“Yeah.” He buries his face deeper in your hair, taking in the sweet smell of you despite your little tantrum. His thumb tries to graze your underboob, fiddling with the frilly wires, popping in and out of the garment, obviously trying to restrain himself. “Sorry, you’re just… so soft.”

“Bunny, I know you’re mad and you can tell me all about it.” His hand reaches for your clothed pussy, fingernails scratching your slit behind the fabric. He finally puts the garment aside, spreading your wet, puffy folds with his pointer and ring fingers before sliding his middle into your slippery hole. “Go on, I’m listening.”

[ ❤︎ ] RYOUMEN SUKUNA

“Don’t ignore me, you.”

“He’s my childhood friend! Just a friend, okay?! Why can’t you understand that?”

“He could be the dog of your sister-in-law’s neighbor, I don’t give a fuck. I don’t want you fucking talking to that guy anymore.”

“It doesn’t mean anything!”

“So? I don’t like how he looks at you — hey, don’t leave! Don’t get mad — c’mon!” He catches up with you when your pace quickens as you bolt through the door. Tattooed arms coming from behind you lock tightly around your waist, his face burrowing into your neck.

“Let me go!”

“Fuck no.” He’s still as a rock the first few seconds as you try to wriggle out of his hold. When you realize it’s futile, he begins to pepper kisses on your exposed shoulder, trailing kisses along your neck up to your temple, as if he’a getting off that easy.

“Ryo, stop!”

“Uh-uh.” He runs his nose across your ear before leaving breathy kisses on your lobe. He’s a fucking menace for knowing exactly what makes you weak in the knees and using that against you.

“If you think that’s going to work, I-I — ohh, fuck.” Your head cranes backwards, leaning on his hard chest when his hand slides down your pants. Heat rises to your cheeks in embarrassment when you realize he found you wet despite all this. Or maybe it’s because of this?

“I don’t know? Seems to be working.” Because it fucking is. And you hate that it is. But his hand — black fingernails grazing your clit sloppy, wetting it with your juices — it feels so hot against your pussy at this stupid moment. His free hand reaches for your tit underneath your shirt around the same time as when he started pumping digits into your hole.

You’re not getting out of this alive.

“You still gonna talk to him?”

“Who?”

[ ❤︎ ] FUSHIGURO TOJI

“I fuckin’ swear, I don’t know how that girl got my number.”

“Don’t care. Go away, Toji.” Standing and towering in front of you, he tries to block you in every which direction. He doesn’t budge. Sneaking past him isn’t an option either as those freakishly long arms could easily prevent you from going anywhere.

You didn’t mean to read his messages. But when an unknown number pops out of your boyfriend’s notifications with kissy emojis followed by a steamy shot of her backside, you can’t help but be… curious.

You’re not sure what to think. On the one hand, you know Toji would never cheat on you or lie to you about these things. On the other hand, you also just found out this isn’t the first time this girl has sent him anything — nor the first time anyone’s sent him anything in the whole duration of your relationship.

“Believe me. I ignore every single one of these text messages, I don’t know how they keep finding me!”

“Yeah, well you could’ve told me.” Toji sighs realizing only now that he should’ve. He didn’t think it mattered or that you would be this bothered when you found out. Clearly, he was wrong.

You take his pause as your cue to walk past him, but a big hand slams to the wall next to you, preventing you from walking any further. His hand slides higher as he leans closer to the wall, forcing you to back up and hide in his shadow.

His lips are a breath away, eyes staring at yours through his lashes. His free hand cups your chin, gently forcing you to listen to him carefully. “I never told you because I didn’t care about any of them.”

His hand reaches for the skirt of your dress, balling the fabric into his fist as he raises the fabric till your thighs are exposed. “Why would I care about any of them when I have you,” he slides his hand into your panties, stroking stripes along your wet slit, “and this pussy.”

You all but melt into his touch, pussy squirming underneath his hold. Toji slowly kneels to the floor, taking your panties with him before throwing them aside. He pushes your knees aside, staring right at you as his hot breath fans your exposed cunt. “This pussy. Always so fucking ready for me.”

His wet muscle parts your folds, licking heavenly stripes on your throbbing clit. You lean on the wall for dear life, one hand above your head, the other on your partner’s head, shoving him closer to your pussy as you ride his mouth.

“I’m changing my number, I promise.”

♡ reblogs & comments are appreciated ♡

[wellfine]

HII I love your art so much it's so expressive and it feels like theres so much movement in it! I was wondering if u had any tips or advice to help with that? I practice anatomy and expression so much but it seems like everything I draw on my own is so stiff!! Anyway I hope you have a great week :)) <3

Hi there! Firstly, thank you so much for the kind words, it means a lot that you would take the time to tell me!

Second- my advice is to take everything you've learned about anatomy and THROW IT OUT THE WINDOW!!!!!!!

... For now. Just into the front yard so you can keep an eye on it. But I have seen many artists concentrate chiefly on studying anatomy only to feel like their art ends up too stiff. My own experience has been to treat anatomy as a tool best used to correct an image in the later stages of construction rather than as your driving foundation.

If "correct" anatomy (however you choose to define that) is the priority of your undersketches, I find that you end up with a sort of Skeleton Song approach to drawing - y'know, the knee bone's connected to the thigh bone, etc etc. Whatever energy, emotion, or intent you wanted your drawing to convey is getting lost each time you split it into another anatomical segment. By over-focusing on individual parts, you lose sight of your image as a whole.

The key to conveying dynamic movement in motionless art is to ensure every element of your image agrees on and communicates the same action, the key to which is something called the line of action.

A line of action is simply that - an implied "line" with wich you lead the viewer's eye and communicate movement. Think of it as the core of your figure's action, simplified to its rawest form. By knowing this, you know what to emphasise and what to de-emphasise.

Well, art is a visual medium and I am better explaining with drawings than words or I'd never have picked up a pen in the first place, so:

Images can have multiple lines of action, lines of action can complement and contrast each other, and a line of action isn't always as obvious as something like running. Imagine you're tring to make your art more "aerodynamic" to the eye. Since I draw a lot of One Piece fanart, I assume you're also familiar with it, and you can probably imagine how Oda uses "lines of action" when composing panels of Luffy punching something, Zoro slicing something, Sanji kicking something- etc etc. He's really good at selling the "oomph" of action shots by reducing visual clutter so that the impact of the action is greater.

(The Monster Trio's abilities are all designed in such a way that allow for REALLY striking lines of action... you can tell Oda loves studying manga fight scenes and wanted to create a world where he could push these concepts to the limit, and it's no wonder One Piece caught the eye of animators even before it was serialised by Toei)

You're probably already noticing how line of action also feeds into composition and silhouette when it comes to conveying movement in an image. Basically put, once you've isolated whatever action it is that you want to convey, the more visual clutter you can streamline away from that action, the stronger an impact that will have on the viewer. A firm line of action, an uncomplicated silhouette for your figure, and a readable overall composition of your image/panel are all ways to minimise visual clutter.

You can also use this information to achieve the opposite effect! Sometimes the ideal action you want to convey is not fast, or powerful, or confident, and you can use the same principles.

In fact, you can apply line of action to images that don't have any "action" in them at all. You can make a drawing of someone simply standing there feel more lively by applying these same principles to their body language:

You can develop an eye for how to simplify movement down to its "lines of action" by studying real photos and other people's art. Try simplifying a figure to its silhouette, and then simplify that silhouette further to a stick figure. And honestly, a lot of this could be boiled down to "see your image as a whole and not just a collection of individual pieces". Set anatomy aside during the composition stage and bring it back in when you start building up the sketch.

Moving away from the line of action, my second piece of broad advice is simply to exaggerate more. Lots of artists subconsciously hold themselves back from pushing motion, expression, etc. out of concern that it will look "too much". Well, maybe it will- but you won't know that unless you try! You can always walk it back if you think you took it too far, but I think you'll be surprised by how far you can push your art before you hit that point.

My final piece of advice is to work on line confidence. Even if you follow the rest of this advice, if you have hesitant and scratchy lines, you're undermining the flow and punch of your art. The best way to improve line confidence is simply by practicing! Do a lot of quick, timed studies, and use a permanent medium like a ballpoint pen or marker. Focus on unbroken lines wherever possible even if it makes your studies look like garbo. I find traditional studies are best for improving line confidence, but if you'd really rather stick with digital then just don't let yourself use the eraser tool, and try using a chunky brush with limited pressure sensitivity.

And that's it! Don't stress about it too much though. Loosen up with your art and, like any other skill, you'll improve with practice, time, and analysing what you like about other people's art. Good luck!

[ineeddarylbadly]

Insecurities

Daryl Dixon X gender neutral reader

first person POV

WARNING- female anatomy used (and she pronouns because merle’s a dick), mention of merle dixon :| and his dad:|, tooth rotting fluff, angst, cursing, mention of self-harm, scars, mentions of his past abuse, alcoholism/smoking, mental health, cockwarming, fingering, oral (giving and receiving) gentle sex, praise kink, talking through sex, encouragement, edging/overstimulation, squirting, creampie, consent(NOT A WARNING BUT THAT SHIT IS FUCKING HOT)

Word count- 8,475

————————————————————————————

Exhausted, Daryl walks into the cabin, the floor creaking under his boots. He drops his bow on the floor walking to the bedroom. Sitting on his bed, removing his shoes before falling back on the poorly crafted bed, he lays there with his eyes closed, breathing slowly. He brings his hands up resting them over his face before slowly sitting up on the bed. He grunts softly into his hands, his eyes feeling heavy. He sighs, getting up removing his vest, throwing it over a chair in the corner of the room before unbuttoning his shirt, letting it fall down to the floor, sighing as the cold air touches his skin. He moves his hand down to his belt taking it off discarding it with his vest. He moves down to the button of his jeans undoing it, pulling them off his legs. He hums feeling much more comfortable. He walks over to his lamp turning it on before walking over to his dresser. On his way there he can’t help but to catch a glimpse of himself in his full-body mirror. He scans himself, feeling the negative thoughts wash over him already. He leans in closer looking into his eyes, his blue eyes looking devoid of life, the wrinkles around them really accentuating that. He looks at the scar crossing over his left eyebrow down to his cheek. The moonlight coming from the window, accentuating the few gray hairs on his head, and across his beard. He moves back grunting, looking at the rest of his body, he takes note that he’s putting on a bit of weight as he runs his hands over his stomach feeling ashamed, almost disgusted with himself. His eyes travel down to his legs remembering how toned they used to be, he grunts looking down at the floor. He starts to think about you and how much he wants to be perfect for you. He hates the thought of aging, it was something he could never get used to. He feels like one day he won’t be desirable to you anymore. Tears form in his eyes thinking about everything Merle has ever told him “She doesn’t care about ya baby brother” “She’ll never notice ya” “Give up” “A girl like tha will never love ya”. He always thought about you, it scared him, to be honest. He thought about you while on runs, whenever he found something he thought you’d like he’d try his best to push down the voices of Merle and his father in his head. He knew the look on your face after he brought you something you would like, it would be all worth it. Your smile was everything to him, he looked forward to seeing it everyday. It gave him a reason to keep going.

“Checking yourself out?”. My voice breaks him out of his thoughts. He turns around looking at me leaning up against the doorway.

“How long have you been there?”

“About 3 minutes.” I smile at him tilting my head to the side. He hums quietly, biting the inside of his lip looking down at the floor.

“What’s wrong darling?”

He looks back at the mirror feeling your eyes on him

“It’s stupid.” He grunts, shaking his head.

“Daryl…you know you can tell me anything.”

I walk closer to him. He takes a deep breath before speaking.

“Ya think’m still good looking?” He sighs looking at his tired eyes in the mirror.

“Of course I do.” I replied to him honestly, smiling softly at him. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

“I don’t know I just worry that one day you’ll find someone better, ma brother..the voices always tell me M’ not good enough..I’m aging faster than ya one day you’ll find someone better looking than me..someone who can treat ya better..y’know?” His voice gets softer as he looks back down at the floor.

“Daryl…” I walk to him grabbing his hand softly, his hand feels warm and dry.

“What.” He grunts softly.

“Well for starters..” I run my hands up his arms softly before resting them on his shoulders. I give them a soft squeeze as I turn his body towards the mirror standing behind him.

“I love your shoulders so much, They’re so big and broad.” I watch the corner of his lips form a small smile as I walk in front of him. I slowly move my hands down to his chest resting one of my hands over his heart. “I love your kind heart, you care so intensely about me and others. You’re always thinking about other people’s feelings, sometimes thinking about theirs before your own. You do so much to protect the people that you really care about.”

He looks deeply into my eyes feeling his anxiety melt away. I run my hands affectionately down his biceps “And these arms, they make me feel so safe and loved.”

His smile grows a little as I pepper him with compliments. I grabbed his hands softly, feeling how warm they were once again.

“Your hands, you know I appreciate how handy you are with your bike or your crossbow, I also love the way you touch me.. they always make me feel so loved.”

He hums intertwining his fingers with mine. He looks back up to the mirror, smiling at his reflection slightly, feeling a little bit better.

“and your stomach.” I continued slowly moving my hands to rest there. “I adore your stomach, know that? It’s comfortable to lay on and it’s perfect, you have the perfect body.”

“Ya really like that?” He said locking his eyes with yours

“I do..I love it very much.”

I place my hands by his sides, running my fingers gingerly over his thighs

“Your legs are so strong, I love sitting on them when you tell me about your childhood or when we are about to make love” he opens his mouth to speak but his words get caught in his throat as I move my hands to the top of his boxers running my fingers under the waistband teasingly.

“Speaking of which...I’m sure every time we’ve made love tells you how much I love this..”

His smile gets wider as he feels his face warm up from your statement. Confidence fills him slightly, knowing that he can still make you feel good in bed.

“God and don’t even get me started on how insanely handsome you are.”

I shift my attention to his face, bringing my hands up to caress his cheeks

He melts into my hands, feeling his body become weak.

I rake my eyes over his intoxicating features before speaking again.

“Your eyes are so beautiful, they make me feel like I'm drowning in the most beautiful ocean. I honestly forget what I’m going to say half the time when I look into them.”

He moves closer to you, resting one of his hands gently on your lower back.

“God, don’t do that…not now.” I chuckled softly

He laughs quietly watching my face turn a light shade of pink.

I run my finger over his nose bridge.

“Your nose makes you look like one of those Greek statues, it fits you so perfectly.”

I run my thumb over his bottom lip, resting the rest of my fingers on his lower jaw.

“And your lips, they’re so pretty like they were made to kiss me..when you say you love me unconditionally it’s always so sincere and when you smile my heart swells with so much love.”

“And this.” I run my fingers through his soft white and black beard

“This is my favorite thing to feel when we kiss.”

The air around him feels thick with love as you flood him with compliments.

“Really?” he says, looking down at you lovingly, slowly moving his hand up and down your back.

“Yeah.” I whisper to him, gently moving my finger to play with the tips of his hair.

“And your hair..it’s so pretty for a man like you...I love playing with it...”

He flashes his signature Daryl smirk looking into your eyes glossed over with enamor.

I take notice of the wrinkles that form around his eyes as he does this.

“And when you smile at me, your wrinkles make your eyes smile..I think that’s so beautiful.”

“I’ll make sure to smile for ya more often” He laughs quietly.

“Your laugh fills me with so much love Daryl..you don’t understand.”

He moves his hand up to play with your hair.

“I’ll spend as long as I can tryin too.”

I relax into his touch moving my hand from his hair to caress his face again grazing my thumb over his mole.

“I’m so jealous that this mole gets to follow you everywhere you go.”

He laughs softly at your silly comment.

“I’m serious Daryl..I love everything about you from the gray hairs on your head to your toes..and I will spend the rest of my life making sure you understand that.”

I feel tears well up in my eyes.

“Daryl Dixon you mean so much to me and don’t let any person or any of the voices in your head tell you any differently okay..?”

He smiles at his reflection in the mirror before looking down at me again, as he brings his hands down to caress my face.

“Don’t cry..come er.”

He pulls me in for a hug

I immediately relax into his arms feeling how warm he is, his heartbeat pounding rhythmically against my ear. I close my eyes as I feel him start to run his hands through my hair, after a few seconds he grabs my face to look at me again.

“Sunshine...I promise ya I’ll get better about how I feel ‘bout myself..it’s just so hard y’know how I grew up….. ’m sorry.”

I bring my hand up to caress his face again.

“I understand darling.”

I wrap my arms around his neck pulling him closer to me.

“Never apologize for something you have no control over.”

He smiles again, his eyes glimmered in the soft moonlight that coated the room. He leans in closer to me running his thumb over my bottom lip.

“I can’t believe how incredibly lucky I am to have someone like ya and I’d love to grow old with ya for as long as you’ll let me.”

I look into his eyes, my heart feeling so overwhelmed with love that it feels like it’s about to burst.

“Of course I would, gray hairs and wrinkles and all. I would love to grow old with you. Even covered in blood and dirt I still think you are the most beautiful man in the world”

We both laugh quietly.

He leans in finally capturing my lips. I wrap my arms tightly around his neck playing with the ends of his hair. I feel him smile against my lips as I do this, his hands move down to my lower back as he deepens the kiss. I hum softly into his mouth. He pulls away tucking a few loose strands of hair behind my ear while looking deeply into my eyes.

“I love you so much sunshine,” he whispers against my lips

“I love you too.”

He smiles, wrapping his strong arms around me again, placing a soft kiss on the top of my head before pulling away.

“It has been a long day for you big guy, let's shower and get ready for bed.”

I smile sweetly at him.

“Yes ma’am.”

He grabs my hand walking to the bathroom.

We make it to the bathroom, closing the door behind us. I walk up to the shower, turning it on and waiting for the water to get warm. I feel him wrap his arms around my waist before he pulls my shirt over my head. I lean back against his chest as he unhooks my bra letting it fall to the floor. I turn around and sit down on the side of the tub as he wraps his fingers around the waistband of my sweatpants pulling them down.

I stand up playing with the waistband of his boxers before pulling them down. I hear him sigh comfortably as I feel his fingers move affectionately down my hips. He plays with the waistband of my underwear. He smiles down at me before he pulls them off, throwing them somewhere in the bathroom. I grab his hand guiding him into the shower. His body becomes enveloped in the warm water. His muscles immediately start to relax. I start to run my fingers through his hair. He smiles at me, grabbing one of my hands, kissing it gently before placing it back on his head. I smile at him, grabbing the shampoo and squeezing some into the palm of my hands. I rub my hands together before placing my hands back on his head, massaging his scalp.

He leans into my touch humming at the sensation, closing his eyes. I watch his movements lovingly as I wash his hair admiring how pretty and wavy his hair is wet. I lean his head back, washing the shampoo out. I watch how the water runs down his features. He brings his head forwards, looking down at me again. Air gets trapped in my lungs as his cerulean eyes set my heart on fire. I admire his gorgeous features before moving my hand up to move a few strands of hair out of his face. He grabs my hips moving me towards the water. The warm water causing me to sigh comfortably. I feel his fingers make small circles on my hips before he moves them up to my hair, brushing my hair out with his fingers.

I watch him grab the shampoo bottle, squeezing some into his hands, rubbing it in before running his fingers through my hair. I relax as I feel his hands cradle my head tenderly, massaging my scalp. I wrap my arms around his neck, closing my eyes, relishing in his touch. He smiles watching me enjoy myself. He admires how beautiful I look standing before him. He becomes so lost looking at me, that he almost forgets what he’s doing. He continues to massage my scalp. He leans my head back and helps me wash my hair out. I look back up at him smiling as I move my hand up to his cheek, wiping some shampoo that managed to get there.

I lean in kissing him on the cheek, feeling his arms wrap around my waist. He turns me around, my back now facing him. He grabs the bar of soap rubbing it between his hands before placing his hands on my shoulders massaging them. I lean back into his chest as I feel him bring his head down to the crook of my neck placing gentle kisses across my skin. He kisses my earlobe before speaking up.

“You’re so beautiful sunshine.”

“Thank you.” I muttered faintly

I feel his hands start to move down to my lower back as he continues to litter my neck and shoulders with kisses

“Turn around.”

I feel his warm breath against my ear as he speaks lowly. I turn around facing him, watching him grab the soap again, rubbing it between his hands before he drops to his knees in front of me. He grabs one of my legs placing it on his shoulder and he starts to massage my leg.

I run my hand through his hair looking down at him in adoration. He watches the soapy water run down my leg before he places a chaste kiss on my inner thigh. I feel his hands move down to my foot massaging it, he hears me sigh in contentment.

“Feel good?”

“Mmm.” I hum in response.

He repeats all the same steps with my other leg before slowly getting up, as he does this his knees crack and buckle a bit. I help him up, giggling to myself.

“See I am gettin’ old.” he chuckles, a slight pout forming across his lips.

I lean in kissing the corner of his lips, his facial expression changing from a pout to a sweet smile. A pink tint spreading across his cheeks.

“You’re so cute.” I state, watching his face change.

His signature Daryl smirk emerges again, his deep eyes filling my heart with love. He grunts nodding.

“Turn around sweetheart.” I say softly.

He turns around his back facing me. I rake my eyes over his broad shoulders and muscled back, looking at his many big scars, remembering everything he told me about his dad. I hated that man, I never understood how he could do such a thing to a kid, and I resented Merle for leaving Daryl in that place allowing their dad to beat him bloody on the daily, often cutting him with his hunting knives. I grab the soap, rubbing it between my hands trying to ignore the tears forming in my eyes.

“Can I?” my voice shaking slightly as I speak

“Yeah.” he says faintly urging me to continue

I place my hands on his shoulders running them down his back wishing I could wash all of his past away. His body softens to my touch. I remember years ago how he would’ve never let me do this feeling too ashamed of his scars. Tears started to well up, threatening to fall from my eyes, but I blinked them away wanting to be strong for him. His dad was a smoker, an alcoholic prick and I knew he didn’t deserve my tears. That thought however didn’t stop when I moved my hands from his back to his arms noticing his cigarette burns remembering how those were self-inflicted. I blink, tears mixing with the water already on my face. The last time I caught him doing that we stayed up all night crying and talking. I hated how much he hurt on a daily basis and how he felt as though he was constantly carrying the world on his shoulders, just for it to crush him over and over again. As if hearing my thoughts he turns around facing me again.

“You okay sunshine?” His voice laced with worry

“Yeah..just thinking.” I speak in a hushed whisper, my voice shaking.

“You don’t have to lie to me y’know.” he moves his hands to my face when he notices my glossy slightly red eyes, cradling my cheeks lovingly.

“I’m okay as long as you’re here with me.”

His words pulled at my heartstrings, his statement replaying in my head hundreds of times feeling more genuine every time.

He leans down kissing me softly pulling away grazing his thumb over my lips.

“I fucking hate your dad.” I look at him smiling, feeling a bit better after this kiss. He looks at me snickering quietly, a weak smile spreading across his lips.

“I know.”

I look at him before dropping to my knees as he watches my movements with glittery eyes. I grab the soap, rubbing it between my hands. I wash both of his legs for a bit.

I slowly get up wrapping my arms around his neck. I feel his hands rest on my hips affectionately as he pulls me in for a surprise kiss.

He pulls away flashing me that smirk of his that I love so much.

“Don’t look at me like that.” I smile shyly at him rubbing soap down his chest.

He looks at me, feeling a little cocky that he can make me feel so shy just by a simple gesture.

“Whatda you mean.” he asks pulling me closer to his chest, trying to play stupid.

“Are you..Daryl Dixon..trying to flirt with me?” I gasp, giggling a bit, my hand moving to my mouth in sarcastic shock.

“N’what if I was.” he states boldly, his voice getting husky. He gathers some soap in his hands running his hands up and down my sides soothingly. I wrap my arms tighter around his neck playing with his hair. His breathing becomes heavy, feeling how close our bodies are. I reach up, planting a soft kiss on his cheek before trailing more kisses down his neck softly.

“Mmm.” he grunts softly “what are ya doin?” he mutters, feeling weak as I work my lips against his neck tenderly.

His strong hands grip my hips as he feels his knees start to buckle.

“Mmm sunshine wait.” he grunts again

I pull my lips away from his neck

“Is everything okay?” I look up at him, his face is red and his eyes are filled with love and desire.

“Yeah, M’fine just..love ya..y’know?”

“I love you too.” I whisper, pressing my forehead against his.

He leans down, capturing my lips with his once again pulling me close to him. I feel his cock start to grow against my stomach. I moan softly, pushing my hips into him. He pulls away hastily, backing up a little.

“M’sorry.” he whispers looking down at the shower floor, anxiety building in his chest.

“For what?” I rest my hand on his chest.

“M’didn’t ask if ya wanted ta”

I move two fingers to his chin lifting his head up to look at me.

“Daryl..it’s okay...I belong to you..you can do whatever you want to me.”

He smiles at me before kissing my lips tenderly, moving his hands back down to my hips, pulling me close again, my stomach grazing his cock gently.

He grunts, allowing his hands to fall over my ass comfortably. I moan quietly into his mouth as he turns us around pushing my back against the wall of the shower gently. I run my hands through his hair, deepening the kiss, feeling his hands move back to my hips. I moan quietly again as he starts grinding his hips into me. He abruptly pulls away from the kiss to turn the water off before taking me into his arms and walking out of the shower. I make a mental note of how sexy his arms look flexed when he picks me up. He places me on the bathroom counter. I yelp quietly, feeling the cold tile against my skin. He looks deeply into my eyes, his hands still gripping my hips tightly, his forehead pressed against mine.

“Can I?” he runs his hands down my thighs, his warm breath tickles my nose as his low voice makes my stomach do backflips.

“Yeah.” my voice shakes a bit as the air in the bathroom becomes hot and thick. He places a soft kiss to my lips before trailing them down my neck and chest. I run my hands through his hair cherishing his touch as he places slow and soft kisses across my chest. He trails them down my stomach, looking at me before he drops to his knees. He throws one of my legs over his shoulder looking at me before spoiling my inner thighs with sweet kisses. I continued to run my hands through his hair, looking down at him. Something about a man as manly as Daryl Dixon on his knees is strange but fitting. I grip his luscious brown hair feeling him move closer to my pussy, I throw my head back moaning under my breath. He lifts his head looking up at me.

“So beautiful..” his breath on my pussy sent shivers up my spine. He places a kiss on top of my pussy before parting his lips allowing his tongue to caress my slit lovingly. I moan gripping his hair tighter, he grunts in satisfaction. The vibrations causing me to throw my head back. I feel him smile against my pussy before taking my clit into his mouth. I wrap my calf around his neck pulling him further into my pussy. He grabs my hips holding them firmly as his lips and tongue make all my nerve endings feel like they’re on fire, causing my legs to shake.

“Mmm..fuck….Daryl..hold on..” my voice trembling

He looks up, his lips covered in me.

“Mmm..ya okay?” he licks his lips, my heart drops “god he’s everything.” I think to myself. I run my hands through his hair.

“Yeah..I’m fine my love.”

He places a gentle kiss on my inner thigh before getting up, becoming eye level with me again. Standing between my legs, his hands still placed on my hips firmly. He leans his forehead against mine.

“Ya sure?” His voice is husky and sweet, filled to the brim with love.

“Mmm.” I manage to hum out through my shaky breath, I clear my throat. “I’m okay I promise.” I bring my hand up to his face.

He leans in kissing me softly, barely touching my lips. He pulls away, bringing his hand to my face.

“I love you so much sunshine.” I nuzzle my cheek into his hand

“I love you too.”

He leans in kissing me deeply, bringing his other hand back down to my hip pulling me closer to him. I wrap my legs around him, bringing my arms around his neck. He picks me up swiftly holding me close in his muscular arms. I yelp quietly.

“I ain’t gonna drop ya sweetheart..I got ya.”

I lean in kissing him deeply, catching him by surprise. He smiles, kissing me back as he walks towards the bathroom door grunting as he opens it, walking us into our shared bedroom. He lays me on the bed gently crawling on top of me, using one of his arms to prop himself up.

He leans down kissing me tenderly, moving his hand down my waist. I shiver as his fingers walk along my skin affectionately.

He pulls away, I groan as his warmth leaves me.

“Mmm.” he smiles at me teasingly.

“Daryl..” I moan quietly feeling his hand back on my waist and his lips nibbling at my ear.

“Y’okay sunshine” I feel him breathe against my ear.

“Mmmm..yeah…”

I feel his lips trail down my neck softly, I relax further into the pillow as I feel his lips work down my chest. He looks at me before taking one of my nipples into his mouth.

“Fuck.” My breathing gets heavier.

“Ya like that” He whispers, still messing with my nipples.

“Mmm.” I nod forcing my lips shut.

He moves his kisses down to my stomach, I feel both of his hands moving to my thighs, spreading them apart. He looks up at me again before placing a tender kiss on the top of my pussy.

I move my hands gripping onto his hair, running my hands through it.

I feel his lips and tongue caress my slit before moving to my clit, sucking on it gently.

“Mmmm fuck.”

I feel him smile against my pussy as I moan, gripping his hair tighter.

He moves away from my pussy and moves back up to my face. I feel one of his hands move down to my pussy, his fingers parting my lips, playing with my clit slowly.

“Mmm….fuck..Daryl…shit..” I moan, my legs twitching.

He smiles watching how good he is making me feel.

“Can I?” he whispers, his voice husky but filled with love and care.

“Yeah..” I nod back at him

He pushes his finger in, watching my face carefully. He kisses me again moving his finger in me gently.

“Yer so beautiful.” he places a soft kiss on my neck, picking up the pace a bit.

He moves his face back down unexpectedly to my pussy, sucking on my clit again.

I throw my head back gripping his hair.

“Oh fuck.” I curse already feeling close.

He adds another finger hearing how good I feel, wanting me to feel more. I watch how his muscles flex as he fingers me, making me more wet.

“Shit.” I curse again feeling his fingers stretch me open.

He continues to suck on my clit moving his fingers in and out of me rhythmically at an agonizingly slow pace.

“Fuck….shit..you’re doing so good.” He smiles slightly as my legs buckle and tremble more, feeling him curl his fingers in me, hitting my g-spot while working his tongue and lips on my clit. My thighs squeeze his head as I grip onto his hair harder.

“Baby I’m so close” I grind my hips against his face.

He parts my thighs moving out of them, I groan frustrated.

“Daryl..” I frown, wrapping my arms around his neck trying to pull him in for a kiss. He complies, kissing me tenderly, tasting me on his lips.

He picks me up again, leaning against the headboard, I settle myself comfortably on his lap, his hands resting on my hips massaging them gently, I smile looking at him.

“What.” he mutters looking at me in adoration,

I run my fingers through his hair.

“You’re so perfect.” I kiss his nose

I pull back watching his eyes soften.

“Mmm” he grunts, nodding his head.

“I’m serious..you’re perfect.”

I lean in kissing him softly wrapping my arms around his neck. He brings one of his hands up, caressing my cheek, I pull away.

“Everything about you is perfect.”

He grunts, chuckling a little before I kiss his cheek trailing the kisses to his jaw, his soft white beard tickling my nose. He tilts his head back allowing me more access to his jaw and neck before sighing quietly. I continue to plant kisses along his neck and chest before moving them to his stomach making sure to kiss every scar on my way down before stopping at his pelvic bone.

“Can I keep going?” I ask him, looking up at him from between his legs.

He licks his lips, nodding his head.

“Mmmh.” He purrs lowly.

I start placing gentle kisses at the base of his cock slowly moving up. I lock eyes with him as I kiss the tip of his cock before taking the tip into my mouth.

“Fuck.” he curses silently under his breath.

I tease the head of his cock slowly with my tongue feeling him grow harder in my mouth.

“Mmmm.” he moans, grabbing my hand.

I take more of his cock into my mouth, wrapping my hand around the base of it. I slowly start to bob my head up and down watching his reactions attentively. He grunts, taking his free hand running it through my hair lovingly before bringing his hand down to hold mine.

“You’re doing so good sunshine.” His praise causing my pussy to ache.

I pick up the pace a bit causing him to throw his head back grabbing my hand harder. I move my head off of him, licking the tip of his cock before taking him into my mouth again.

“Fuck..” he moans reaching his hand to move my hair out of my face caressing my cheek tenderly.

I take his cock out of my mouth again looking at him while placing a kiss on the tip.

“Fuck don’t look at me like tha..”

I smile at him teasingly, taking his cock deeply into my mouth grabbing his thighs. He grunts as his cock hits the back of my throat.

“Oh..fuck.” he moans, continuing to caress my cheek watching me work my mouth up and down his cock

“Yer doin' so well Darlin keep going.”

I bob my head feeling him twitch slightly in my mouth. I feel him start to buck his hips upwards and his grip on my hand gets tighter. I take him out of my mouth slowly watching him sigh heavily, his body shaking a bit.

“Mmm shit.” he laughs softly, trying to catch his breath

“C’mere” his voice is gentle but demanding and teasing.

I crawl up sitting back down on his lap, my ass rubbing against cock as I get comfortable.

I wrap my arms around his neck as he wraps his arms around my waist pulling me closer to him.

“I love ya so much sunshine.” he leans in kissing me tenderly, I relax into the kiss parting my lips allowing his tongue to slip in. His tongue caresses mine softly as his hands hold my hips in place. I purr into the sensation. He pulls away looking at me.

“Ya okay?” he runs his hands up and down my back

“Yeah.” I lean in kissing him deeply again.

He moves his hands down, settling them on my ass. I moan softly as I start to slowly grind on his lap. I trail kisses down his jaw. His grip on my ass tightens as I hear him sigh in my ear. I feel his hand move down in between us, he grabs his cock moving it towards his stomach allowing me to grind on it. I moan feeling the veins of his cock rub my slit. He starts to pepper my jaw and neck with kisses as I bring my hands up to cradle his face. He looks at me with heavy lids.

“Yer so…fuck.” he curses quietly reaching a hand up to caress my face soothingly.

I moan, looking down watching myself grind back and forth on his cock covering him in my juices. He watches me closely, his hands grabbing my hips helping me move against him. I feel his cock twitch against my pussy as I quicken my pace a little.

“Mmmm sunshine..” His voice grows raspy, as his grip on my hips tighten, I rest my hands on his shoulders watching his cock start to leak a bit as I continue to move my hips.

He abruptly holds my hips in place causing me to look at him. He leans into my neck, his breath tickling my ear.

“Can I?” His voice is low and seductive as he reaches his hand down grabbing his cock firmly rubbing it over my clit before lining himself up with my pussy. “Fuck you?” His voice has a hint of desperation to it.

“Yeah.”

He takes his free hand caressing my face before pulling me in for a tender kiss. I feel the tip of his cock glide smoothly across my desperate aching slit causing me to moan softly in his mouth.

“So perfect.” he murmurs, his complement causing me to moan and shiver slightly. “His voice will always do it for me” I think to myself.

“Ready?” he looks at me questioning breathlessly.

I nod my head. He grabs my hips and starts guiding me down slowly onto the tip of his cock. We both sigh in unison.

“So good sunshine..”

I moan, the familiar feeling of his cock stretching me open slowly. I wrap my arms around his neck as the intensity of the stretch heightens, a few strained moans slip from my lips.

“Shh it’s okay..” his voice is sweet and soft as he rubs my hips gently. “Ya okay?”

“Yeah.” I run my hands through his hair affectionately as he continues to guide me slowly down his cock.

“Yer doin' so well sunshine.” he rasped out

While still rubbing gentle circles on my hips, he kisses my cheek, trailing them down to my jaw and then my neck. I moan leaning my head to the side, giving him more access to my neck. I try moving down on his cock further, He holds my hips preventing me.

“Ya have no need ta rush sunshine…” I run my hands through his hair tugging on it a bit. He moans into my neck, his grip tightening at my waist.

“You feel so good..” I sigh

He grunts softly as my ass finally becomes flush with his lap. He breathes heavily in my ear as a loud moan leaves my lips as he bottoms out.

“Oh god..” my voice is shrill as tears brim my eyes.

He kisses my cheek bringing one of his hands up to wipe them away before holding my hip again.

“Shhh..” he runs his hand up and down my waist soothing me as I adjust.

“God. Ya feel so good.” He whispers. His calloused fingertips dancing along my waist.

“Ya take me so well.” His voice is husky and soft, causing me to tighten around him slightly. He hisses before he kisses my forehead, trailing them down my nose before placing a tender kiss on my lips, distracting me as his rough fingertips start rubbing small gentle circles on my clit.

“Oh fuck..” I grip his hair dipping my head in the crook of his neck moaning desperately. I lift my hips slightly, my whole body shaking as I slowly move back down again. I hear him grunt as I try to repeat that action when he grips my hips holding me in place.

“Mmmm I wanna stay like this for a bit.” He grunts, holding me firmly.

He brings one of his hands up to my face, bringing me in and kissing me passionately. His tongue grazes my bottom lip. I allow him in, deepening the kiss. The movement of his rough fingers continue on my clit as I fight back the agonizing urge to start moving my hips. He pulls away looking at me.

“Yer doin' so..” his breath hitches as my lips attach to his neck, kissing and sucking on his burning skin “fuck..” his deep whimper causing my hips to involuntarily buck upwards causing his cock to twitch deep within me.

“Sunshine..” his grip on my hips tightens as he looks at me through heavy-lidded eyes. “Don’t..” his voice deepens further.

I nod my head desperately, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck. He brings two fingers, resting them on my lips, I kiss his fingers before I part my lips, and my tongue dances along his fingertips.

“Mmm” he grunts in approval as other hand continuously massages my hip affectionately. He brings his wet fingers back down to my swollen clit, I moan as his finger makes contact with me again. I pull his hair as his fingers move slowly over my clit overstimulating me beyond belief.

“Daryl…” I tug on his hair trying desperately to withhold moving my hips. I pull him in for a heated kiss as he applies more pressure to my sensitive clit.

“So fuckin good..” he whispers against my lips, my pussy aches at his words.

“I love ya so much sunshine..” he kisses my lips softly.

“I love you too” I wipe a few beads of sweat glistening on his forehead before running my hands through his hair lovingly. He holds my hips firmly.

“Ya ready?” His voice is deep and unsteady.

“Mmmhh yeahh.” I hold his face softly in my hands.

He lifts my hips about a quarter up his cock, The feeling is more than overwhelming. He grunts watching my face contort in pure bliss as strings of moans spill from our lips as he lowers me down slowly. When my ass becomes flush with his lap again my legs shake.

“Ya okay?” He caresses my cheek, tucking some hair behind my ear.

“Yeah” I start to slowly circle my hips around his cock.

“So..good..” he whispers as he runs his hands up and down my back.

I continue my movements, alternating between circling my hips and moving back and forth. His cock rubbing my walls lovingly. I slowly lift my hips looking at him as I run my hands through his hair before moving back down. He hisses, and I continue doing that at an agonizingly slow pace, moans leaving my lips.

He looks up at me, grabbing my waist helping me move on him. I place my hands on his shoulders to stabilize myself, moaning softly.

“Shhh Atta’ girl” he whispers, his cock twitching as his hands caress my waist soothingly. His words of encouragement causing me to tighten around him again.

“Ya like that” his voice is teasing “Yeah…” I mutter out weakly, as he guides my hips up and down matching his pace with mine. It's excruciatingly slow. I tug his hair pressing my forehead to his as he continues to guide my hips.

“Mm I love ya so much.” his voice sounding out of breath as I clenched around him tightly.

“I love you too.” I wrap my arms tightly around his neck as his hips jolt upwards, sending his cock deep within me. I bury my head in his shoulder as he places tender kisses along my neck and shoulders as we move in sync. I lift my head up looking at him, he meets my gaze, wrapping his arms tightly around my waist and hugging me close as he places kisses along my chest before taking one of my nipples in his mouth and sucking lightly, quickening the pace of his hips.

“God, you feel so good darling.” I completely fall apart to his touch while moaning constant words of encouragement. He smiles against my sensitive nipple, grabbing my hips and moving me against him faster. He moves away from my chest looking at me again, leaning back against the headboard.

“Do what ya wanna do sunshine”

I smile leaning in kissing him softly, he hums contently into my mouth. I remember the first time he let me have control over him intimately. It was a big step for him. He always felt like he had to have control over everything and anything, so he wouldn’t get hurt. He felt as though he would die if he was ever caught with his guard down. The first time he let me do this is when I knew he trusted me with his soul. He could put his faith in me for anything. He was willing to be vulnerable around me, around anyone for the first time.

I pull away from the kiss, placing my hands on his chest as I start to move my hips up and down. He closes his eyes, groaning. I keep a steady pace bouncing up and down and gripping onto his chest to hold myself up as I feel my legs become weak. He lazily grabs my hips, biting the inside of his bottom lip.

“Yer so beautiful” he groans, his hand moving up to caress my breast. I continue to bounce up and down swirling my hips occasionally watching my juices pool around the base of his cock and pelvis. His hands move down my back before settling on my ass. I continue my steady pace bouncing slightly faster as I feel him grab my ass firmly.

“Doin' so good..” he grunts, leaning forward wrapping his arms around me. I fall into him as he starts moving in me again unexpectedly.

“Oh..fuck..” moans and soft whimpers fall from my lips as he holds me up flipping us over, my back hitting the soft comforter. He kisses me lovingly before he moves his hand down, his rough thumb rubbing my clit gently, sending waves of pleasure throughout my body causing me to shiver. He captures my lips hungrily, swallowing my moans.

His hand moves away from my clit curling around my waist lifting me off the mattress. Arching my back, the new angle lends his hips becoming pressed tightly with mine, his cock in as far as it can go. My thighs tremble on their own accord, as he pressed his forehead to mine looking down at me with glossy eyes. He inhales sharply as I clench around him, dipping his head in the crook of my neck.

“Gonna make it hard fer me ta last.. huh?” He groans huskily in my ear, the end of his statement coming out as more of a whimper. I moan, biting my lip slightly, wrapping my legs tightly around his waist. My hands gripping the nape of his neck tightly as he pulls out abruptly and pushes back into me again. I yelp in surprise.

“Oh god…” my body spasms as he holds my body close to his, burying his face in my hair.

“Feels so good…” he groans, lightly biting at the shell of my ear.

I start moving my hips against his holding the back of his neck for support. His breath hitches getting caught in his throat. We match our movements holding each other close, sweat forming causing our bodies to stick together. He captures my neck in hot feverish kisses before moving back up to my lips using one hand to caress my face gently, his other hand resting on my hip holding me in place as he makes love to me assisting our movements. His head falls into the crook of my neck, his soft grunts reverberating throughout my entire body. I feel them more than hear them. I grab his face, pulling him up to my lips again, kissing him deeply. One of his hands travels from my hip to my thigh lifting it up a bit. The new angle causing me to moan loudly, biting my lip slightly.

“Oh god…” his cock grazes my g-spot ever so slightly just enough for my body to twitch in his arms. He holds me tighter against him and he kisses me deeply again. The open mouthed kiss only heightening the intimacy shared between us. He pulls away briefly looking down at me, his bangs in his face.

“You okay?” I always admired how he checked up on me while we made love, making sure I was okay every step of the way, never wanting to hurt me or make me uncomfortable.

“Yeah…” my answer coming out breathy and quiet, he leans down capturing my lips for more opened mouthed kisses. I wrap my arms tightly around his shoulders, his hand still holding my thigh, his other hand coming up to cradle my head lovingly, his cock continuing to caress every sweet spot within me, making sure to graze by my g-spot repeatedly. The room only being filled with the obscene wet noises between our bodies, our shared sounds of ecstasy, the moonlight cascading across the room illuminating our unabashed need for each other. He continues to rock my hips kissing me and nipping at my lips, intertwining his tongue with mine taking my breath away.

“Baby…” I hold his face “so good…”

“Yeah?..” his soft grunts and whimpers against my lips getting more frequent. He moves his hand holding my thigh down to my stomach, his thumb rubbing circles over my clit, the rest of his hand over my stomach applying light pressure, his tip hitting my g-spot just enough to bring me to the brink of finishing. My hands moving frantically across parts of his body desperately trying to hold onto him. My hands settle in his hair massaging his scalp, overwhelming tears brimming my eyes.

“Gonna…cu” My breathing hitches, my legs trembling as I tug at his hair.

“I got you sunshine..gonna make ya cum first.. real good mmm” his southern drawl getting more desperate. He applies more pressure on my clit burying his cock to the hilt, my g-spot overstimulated beyond belief, my clit swollen, my walls tightening around him, beckoning his own release. He closes his eyes briefly to hold back before looking back at my face, pressing his forehead to mine, and cradling my head petting my hair lovingly.

“I love you so much sunshine” his voice faltering and deep barely above a whisper as he holds back his release.

“I love you too…” I’m barely able to mutter out the words, my voice hoarse and throat dry. His thumb working on my clit, the rest of his hand applying the most perfect amount of pressure on my lower stomach, his cock constantly kissing my g-spot. My stomach heats up. I know I’m not gonna last much longer, his cock twitching in me and his soft grunts getting louder letting me know he’s not far behind.

“I…” my jaw falls slack, my eyes rolling back as I moan loudly.

“Mmm cum..ugh..now…”

His deep southern drawl bringing me over the edge, his pressure on my stomach and clit never letting up as he continues to make love to me, all of the built-up burning fervor causing me to squirt coating his cock, pelvis, and the sheets under us.

“Fuck..” his body shakes as he holds my limp body close coaxing me through my intense orgasm.

“Mm..you okay?..” I nod, not being able to speak as he continues to move in me, chasing his own impending release.

“So good..fuck..” he continues to murmur praises moving both of his hands up to cradle my face, his thumbs rubbing my cheeks.

“Feel so fucking good..gonna...” his voice ringing in my ears his forehead still pressed to mine. My eyes finally opened locking eyes with him, bringing him over the edge. My pussy clenches around him, he grunts my name loudly spilling his love deep inside me. A long drawl of curses spill from his lips as my walls and whole body hug him through his release. Time feels like it stops as our movement slows down to a complete stop. We lay there basking in the afterglow of the intense exchange, lovingly caressing each other’s bodies. One of his hands remained on my face brushing a few strands of hair out of the way and sweat in the process, his other hand moving down to caress slow soothing circles on my hip. My arms fall from around his shoulders to his upper arms, rubbing them tenderly before moving back up to his shoulders and upper back, massaging it softly. I wrap my arms around his neck, my fingers running through his scalp, feeling his whole body go soft under my touch. Our breathing is still unsteady as we relax into each other.

He peppers soft kisses all over my face before moving to my lips kissing me tenderly I hum into the kiss contently continuing to massage his scalp. He kisses my cheek, clearing his throat before speaking.

“You okay sunshine?” His voice is deep and hoarse, I smile at him lovingly.

“Mmm” I nod my head bringing one of my hands up to caress his cheek moving his bangs out of his face and wiping sweat. He leans into my touch kissing the side of my hand tenderly, nuzzling into it.

“I love ya sunshine” he leans down to capture my lips in a tender kiss again.

“I love you too”

————————————————————————————

A/N Holy shit this took way too long for me to finish.

💋💋💋💋

[leahseclipse]

Marry me (Emily Prentiss x fem!Reader)

Warnings: talks of hospital, car crash, blood and wound mentions (no major character death)

Summary: A car crash turns everything into a nightmare. (Based off episode 18 and 19 of S7 of grey's anatomy)

A/N: It's a bit of a random post, but I remembered I had wrote that fic for @imagining-in-the-margins 's wedding challenge, so why not post it! It's really a no beta we die like men in here, so there might be some mistakes. This was based off @fortheloveofwonderland 's prompt 🤗

Word count: 3.7k

As soon as the occasion presented itself, Emily and Y/N did not hesitate a single second to spend the weekend together, far from their home. Windows rolled down, their hands glued together as Emily had the other on the steering wheel, they couldn’t stop freaking out about the simple concept of ‘vacation’.

“How did this even happen? You never get days off. I can’t believe your phone hasn’t started ringing. This is insane.” Y/N moved her right arm around as she spoke.

“Right? I can’t believe it either. It’s been… months.” Emily said.

“We finally have a weekend to ourselves.”

“Just us and the little one.” she said, briefly looking at her when the road was empty. "Let’s enjoy the final weeks before she never lets us rest again.”

“You said it,” she sighed. “We’re going to fuel ourselves with coffee.”

Emily doesn’t answer to that, eyes on the road.

“Is something wrong, Em?”

She blinked, “No, I just… spaced out for a second. Sorry.”

“Oh, okay. That happens. Did you…” Y/N started to say, but the buzz of her phone stopped her. “Oh… He found out.”

“What?”

“Reid. About the… prank we did on him, that’s not going to be good when we come-” she rambled, before Emily yanked her phone out of her grasp; throwing it somewhere behind. Probably in the back seats, not that it matters. Emily wanted this phone away. “What was that?”

“Can you just… this time is for us. You see him all the time, so do I, but he's not here now! It’s just us.”

“Come on, he was just texting. I wasn’t going to stay on my phone all day.” she argued, “I gotta text back at least.” then unbuckles her seatbelt to turn around.

“What are you doing?” Emily yelled.

With her phone in her hand, she yelled back, “I’m answering the text! Calm down, he’s not getting more time than you with me.”

“You make me sound like I’m acting jealous, or something.”

“Are you?” Y/N asked, eyes on her phone.

“It’s kind of difficult not to be when you talk about Spencer so often.”

“He’s my best friend, am I not allowed?” she asked, defensively. Taking a breath, she looked away from her phone. “I am giving all my time to our couple, you, and the human growing inside of me, so I am allowed to do other things, like talk to my friend, just for a minute.” Then she stopped talking. Went back to her phone, and the car was as silent as ever.

It’s never been that silent.

They’ve never been so pissed off at each other, they’ve swore to stop when they had to, calm down and apologize.

There wasn’t any apology.

Just the light sound of y/n’s fingertips hitting the screen. That was pretty much it.

“Marry me.”

That earned a chuckle from her girlfriend.

“I’m serious. Marry me.” Emily said, her voice sounding more serious, which led to Y/N turning to look at her, absolutely stunned. “I want… more.” She looked at her, “I love you more than anything, and what we have is perfect but I want more. I want the commitment, the rings, the married life— everything. With you. So…” she paused. “Marry me.”

Emily kept her eyes set on her, and y/n couldn’t either. Even if she was mad. Even if she didn’t know what to say.

But, something was in the back of her head. When she turned around, she didn’t have time to react.

Neither did Emily, before there was a crash and then everything went black.

++

The first thing Emily registered as her eyes opened was the texture of the airbag against her face. It was stained with blood— her blood. But she didn’t focus long about it, she couldn’t see y/n. She was nowhere near the seat.

As her eyes looked up, she saw her on the hood of the car.

She had gone through the windshield.

“Y/N!” Emily yelled, rushing to get her seatbelt off her as she rushed out of the car towards the front. The front of the car had been completely crushed by the impact when they hit the truck in front of them.

Y/N was on the front of the car, her breathing ragged and fast. She was covered in blood. Things didn’t look so good for her.

She remembered seeing the car. It got closer.

Then it crashed against theirs.

Emily was instantly out of her mind. She yelled at the driver to call for help, then proceeded called for help herself on her phone. “We need someone, right now! There was a crash and-and my girlfriend went through the windshield! You have to come right now!”

This definitely wasn’t what she had in mind for the perfect vacation.

There wouldn't even be any vacation to go on anymore.

++

Emily doesn’t remember what happened before she got off the ambulance, or she just doesn’t want to. She’s probably in shock, she doesn’t know. She thinks she dialed Spencer’s number or sent a message, somewhere through the ride.

She hated him a minute ago, but someone else had to know. No matter what, she can't forget he's the father of their child.

He probably called someone else, her guess would be Derek, or Hotch— or hell, everyone. He probably did, they're part of the family. Of course they'd come.

That is if they’re not already on a case. Not everyone would be able to leave. Just him. She guessed.

Y/N was out of sight as soon as Emily entered. She wasn’t allowed further in the room, simply left to stay outside. She was completely panicked.

Knowing the doctors there didn't help. There were all blurry faces. Just people moving around.

Was it all her fault?

She was the one driving. She didn’t look at the road.

Why would it be empty? It’s not a private road.

She swore it wasn’t there.

Was it?

Emily could register the dried blood on her forehead, the wound was still exposed, she didn’t even let anyone touch it when they saw it. She was too worried about her girlfriend.

If she hadn’t thrown the phone out of her hands she would’ve kept her seatbelt on. Maybe then her injuries wouldn’t have been so bad. Maybe the baby wouldn’t be in danger either.

She couldn’t stop blaming herself for that.

She asked Y/N to marry her, and this truck came out and they crashed right into it.

They didn’t even get to spend a full day together, not one without injuries or worries or yelling or whatever came with Emily’s job. She didn’t think Y/N would ever be the injured one. She never intended to.

It pained Emily to see the state she was in compared to what she had.

All of this because of a stupid phone, and because she had to ask her in marriage in the middle of the road.

She was the one driving.

“Fuck.” Emily said, running her hands in her hair. Next thing she knows, Spencer is walking in, yelling her name.

He’s running towards her, panicked. “What the hell happened Emily? Is she... oh god.”

Y/N was being rushed out of the room.

She seemed worse. Way worse. She had gotten intubated. Fuck, Emily hated herself so much for that phone. Spencer was just there, out of his mind and she didn’t know what to say.

None of them had time to even say a word before she was wheeled out of the room by at least ten doctors, and she was gone again, rushed in an elevator. She was just gone again.

“I asked her to marry me and a truck came out of nowhere.” Emily said, eyes still glued to the elevator’s doors.

“How did she… how did this even happen?” Spencer asked.

“She took her seatbelt off. And she went through the windshield… when we hit that truck.”

“Why on earth did she take it off in the first place?”

“To text you! ” she yelled, facing him. “I got mad because she was talking to you again, and I chucked her phone out of her hands! That’s what happened! I was sick of hearing about you !”

And then the silence fell. They looked at each other, and then she was crying, kneeling down to the floor as her face fell to her hands.

She hated this day.

++

The clock struck midnight, and they still remained sitting in that waiting room. Emily knew it by heart now. The number of seats, the posters on the wall— blood donation, STDs testing, retirement houses, or that damn smiling family on the insurance one. They don’t know how much she wanted to rip their faces out when she could lose what they had on that stupid photo, then there was the same nurse that’s been ‘gossiping’ about her colleague that dated the whole service (as if it were any of her damn business) and she just wished chucking staplers at people’s faces would be legal.

She almost did it, when that nurse was stitching up her face. She wasn’t the nicest one.

To resume, Emily was in a bad mood.

She couldn’t bear hearing or seeing anything.

Not when Y/N’s life was at risk, and when she had the person that caused a part of this in front of her. Technically, it wasn’t Spencer, she was the one that caused her girlfriend to take off her seatbelt, but she did it because she had to text him.

So it’s a quarter (or something) his fault, at least. Maybe.

They haven't talked since her breakdown in the corridor. She just got up and sat and looked away. Looking back at it, it looked like two children after an argument. She felt stupid. Really stupid.

This could have been avoided.

If it wasn’t for these doctors she recognized coming in to see them to lead them to the room where Y/N was, she would’ve fallen asleep. This day had been too exhausting.

"Is there anything new?"

“She's stable for now. We stopped the surgery right now. We were afraid of further damage, so we have to see and wait if she makes it through the next 24 hours to go in again." Derek explained.

"The baby is also doing fine. We'll have to watch her as well." Addison said, before realizing he might have said something he shouldn't have. "Did you not know the…"

"We knew, we knew. It's okay." Emily dismissed.

“Is her state putting any risks on the baby, or the opposite?” Spencer questioned.

“There could be risks, eventually.” she answered.

“Would it be best for the baby to be taken out, then?” Spencer asked.

Addison sighed, “Well, we would need to know…”

“What we want to do.” Spencer interrupted.

"What about her, Spencer? What about what she would want us to do?"

“Why are we even talking about the baby?” Spencer asked, with an aggressive tone.

And then there was silence. Emily turned around, in disbelief.

“Are you being serious?”

“We just need to focus on giving her the best shot she can get.”

“Y/N wants her child !”

“Y/N wants to live.” Spencer insisted on the last word.

“We all want to! But what is it going to be like when she wakes up and her child is gone, Spencer?” Emily snapped.

“And what’s her life going to be like if she’s dead? We can just have another child, but we can’t have another Y/N!”

“Just say you want to fuck her again.” Emily wanted him to admit it, so bad.

“You’re still not over it, aren’t you? It’s not even a big deal. We just had sex a while ago and that’s it.” Spencer defended himself.

“It is a big deal.” Emily said, trying to make him understand.

“It’s not ! That or that kid isn’t! We can just have another one!"

“I can't believe you.”

“You can say what you want, but this is my family. I’m the father, Emily.”

“Do you want a medal for that? You’re not the only man in the world that can make children, in case you didn’t know about it."

“Okay, but in that case, I’m still the one she’s pregnant with. I am the father, you’re nothing!”

“You don’t even care about that baby! You didn’t care at all two minutes ago! That baby is way too young to be born! I don’t know all the risks and all that you know, but I know 23 weeks is not the time.”

“You think I don’t know? I know the risks!”

“Do you ? Because you haven’t been acting like you do.”

“I’m thinking about Y/N! Do you think I don’t care about it too, I’m the father!”

“Yeah, sure.”

“You never even wanted that baby in the first place, Emily. You never asked for it, so why do you think you have an opinion on it now?”

“You know what I didn’t ask for? You. You’re nothing, nothing. You’re basically just a sperm donor. This isn’t your relationship, not anymore, so…”

“I’m going to stop you right there. You don’t get to say anything again, this is my family. I am going to say that again, because apparently, you didn’t register it. I am the father, I am. You’re nothing. Just a bystander. You hear me? You're nothing.”

And that was it. Emily stood there, Spencer stood there, the doctors too and nothing else was said.

There was just this wall between them now.

++

After thirty minutes, or so spent in Y/N’s room, crying, looking at her, a bit of crying again, some praying (even if Emily wasn’t even into religion), she decided to step out for a bit to get a coffee, or whatever was available because most of the time, coffee machines at hospital are always broken, it’s a fact.

But if she had to pick a thing she liked in hospitals it would be the coffee, even if it can be bad because nothing compared to the rest. The injuries, being in the hospital or having someone you know hospitalized is the worst.

She doesn’t even know what to do.

She keeps wondering what she’s going to do if her girlfriend doesn’t make it. It’s probably bad to think about the worst already- when she could make it, but she can’t help but think about the other outcome. The worst one.

They haven’t even been together for that long, just about three years. That’s not enough. She needs more time.

Time that could be cut short because she was jealous of a guy she dated ages ago. Just because of that.

Emily can’t even imagine a life without her, she’s truly the first partner she’s been happy with. No one has treated her like Y/N does. She just made her feel special, all the time. Made sure Emily knew she was loved, was happy, she cared about Emily first, no matter what.

No one will ever replace Y/N, she’s sure of it. No one will be as perfect as her.

So, she needs her. She needs her to survive.

Walking through the corridors to the ICU again, she just hoped nothing happened while she was gone. Anything can happen in just a minute, she knows it.

When the room comes back into view, she can see Derek sliding the door shut, talking to Spencer as soon as he turns back to him.

“...soon to tell anything.” the man said. Emily managed to catch enough of the sentence to understand what was going on.

“She didn’t respond at all?” Spencer asked. Emily could hear the panic in his voice, along with the tugging on his fingers to probably calm his nerves.

“All she did was open her eyes. We tried making her follow commands but… nothing.” He responded. “Like I said, it’s just too soon to tell.” he ended, leaving with a polite nod after a short glance to the both of us.

“No good news for now. Great.” Emily said after the short silence that followed after the doctor’s departure. She shot a look at Reid, before sliding the room’s door open, shutting it after her.

He must have gone in when Emily was gone, so she assumed it was fine for her to walk in.

She sat by the chair, sighing at her girlfriend, still on that bed, the only thing moving being her chest, aside from all these machines around her. Beeping. Beeping. Beeping.

She wishes Y/N was moving something else, that she could be awake and talking.

It’s a few minutes before Emily stopped just staring and started talking, “Maybe he’s kind of right you know. He… might be, because legally I’m literally no one, I’m not related in any way to the child. But also, strangely, for some reason…” she paused. “I feel like I am related. Like I’m the baby’s mother. Truly.” she said, her voice faltering. “Can you…live? Can you do that, for us? We all love you in the team and I probably wouldn’t be the only one to miss you.”

She lowered her head, trying to fight the tears from coming. She cried enough today.

As she was about to leave, the machines suddenly started beeping like crazy. It was a matter of time before Spencer and two doctors rushed into the room.

“What happened?” Spencer asked.

“Her pressure is bottoming out.” the first doctor said. She didn't know him.

“Belly’s tight as a drum.” the other joined in. “It’s a flash pulmonary edema, her lungs are full of fluid right now. She has abdominal compartment syndrome as well.” She didn't know her either.

“She’s bleeding out, alert an OR that we’re on our way.” one of the doctors walking in ordered. They started unplugging things there and there, grabbing all the monitors, and even more people barged in. It was overwhelming.

Emily lived their arrival once again, Y/N being wheeled out, out of sight, and she was left there. Not knowing what might happen for hours. She was left in front of the door sign that read “Authorized personnel only”, watching all the crowd of doctors disappear in the corridor.

She felt helpless. Empty. She wasn’t Emily anymore, just a body standing there, paralyzed by fear.

When she felt herself being moved, she was surprised to see that Spencer was the one next to her. He probably hated her.

“Come on, let’s go sit down. You can’t keep standing there.” he said, reassuringly. “Can you hear me, Emily?” he asked when she didn’t answer.

“I…” she paused. “I can.” speaking with a weak voice, before following his lead. She didn’t walk away from his grip around her shoulders while they walked back to the waiting room, even with how much she hated him for what he had said. She would’ve probably fell down if he wasn’t there.

Spencer was the first to make another sound when they sat down, sighing deeply as he ran both of his hands from his face to his hair, keeping them at the top of his head.

“Shouldn’t we say a prayer, or something? She’s the kind of person to do that, when there’s something… bad.” Emily said, looking at her hands.

“I’ve been doing it since I came here.” Spencer harshly answered, and Emily didn’t even say anything about his tone, because she understood why. She was pissed too, even if she didn’t show it in her previous sentences.

Emily let out a sigh again, letting the silence drown the unsaid words.

++

When Emily was suddenly woken up to Spencer shaking her so she’d wake up, panic immediately rushed in.

“Did something happen? Is she…”

Spencer tightened his grip on her shoulders, “Hey, she’s fine… they’re fine.”

“What do you mean…they?” Emily asked.

“They had to get the baby out. Both her and Y/N are fine.”

Emily immediately felt tears in her eyes. “Are you serious? They’re okay?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you about that, Emily.”

“Can we…” she said, getting up from the chair. “can we see them?”

“Of course.”

++

“Emily?”

“Yeah, Spence?” she answered, somehow surprised at the use of the nickname. It felt weird after their numerous arguments, and after all the silence when they stared at their daughter, and walked back in front of the room.

“You’re not nothing.” he said, as Emily turned her head to meet his eyes. “We had this kid together. Up to this day, we took care of it, you and me. You acted like a mother and I…acted like a dad, as best as I could. I’m sorry for what I said.”

“It’s… we were both frustrated.” Emily said. “She’s going to wake up, don’t worry. She’s made it this far.”

Spencer opened his mouth as if he was going to speak, but nothing came out, until a few seconds later. “Do you want to go in…first?”

“You can come too.” Emily said and she slid the door open, letting Spencer sliding it shut as he stepped in.

She tried so bad to convince herself that Y/N looked better since the last time, she seemed like she did. At least the machines weren’t beeping like crazy.

That was a good sign.

She stepped up to her bed while Spencer still remained in the background, watching. He seemed terrified.

She sat down, giving a smile to Spencer before glancing back at Y/N. “Hey, uh, we saw her, you know. She’s… really small, she only weighs one pound. That really freaked me out at first, but she’ll make it. You made it this far, so she will as well. She probably got your strong genes, she made it, even with all the complications that were implied with a birth at 23 weeks.” she explained. “She’s really beautiful, she has your hair. She hasn’t opened her eyes yet, but I can tell she was… somehow looking for you, asking for you. So, get well soon so you can see her, okay?” Emily asked, keeping her eyes on her for a minute before going back to staring at her own hands.

“These past days have been horrible.” Spencer said.

“I’m going to be afraid of cars for a while, probably.”

“I wouldn’t blame you for that.” he answered.

“...yes.”

The whisper quietly spread in the room, making both of the agents’ heads snap towards it.

“Y/N?” Emily called.

“I’ll marry you.”

++

[dolls-self-ships]

Do you have any advice for drawing in the Aardman style?

alright so I'm literally in the bathtub writing this so if you would like some visuals let me know but basically- take everything you know about facial human anatomy (ok well maybe not EVERYTHING) and throw it out the window. First you're gonna want to identify the classic "aardman face" (which I actually have a sketch of and will post to this later). Expressions are often vacant, awkward, and a bit silly, but it's all part of the charm. Avoid the urge to make everything super stretchy and expressive (this is particularly hard for me bc I have put blood sweat tears and years into trying to adopt the "expressive fluid" style to my art), remember these characters are made out of plastacine, they actually look closer to how a real human face emotes than how, say, a d*sney or p*xar at character does (not as exaggerated, more grounded in reality).

Another thing I'd like to mention is that I don't copy the aardman style to an exact t, I still incorpeerate my personal tastes and how I like to draw into it (making the eyes a little more spaced, giving the chickens more wing-like hands instead of just actual humanoid hands), so don't be afraid to add your own little flavour/flare to it! That's the beauty of art is that no two people are ever going to be able to draw the same art style in the exact same way, so might as well have fun with it.

But, as a general rule for aardman, focus more on the essence of the character rather than how "aesthetically pleasing" they look. They mostly have goofy little round eyes, curved mouths (actually really similar to how smiles are drawn in Steven universe, think of the bean shape), and larger hands (I love them hehe).

I also advise just looking at behind the scenes of aardman and studying the way the figurines look, how they're moved from frame to frame, etc. Just really look at them and try your best to translate it into paper, at the end of the day it really comes down to practicing! Or just scribbling until you feel like you've made something good, that's what I do sometimes.

[coconutcreambun]

A touch of a lifetime [Pt. 3]

Paring: Tomura Shigaraki x Reader

Warnings: villains doing villain things, possible swearing, not proofread, crude mentions, female anatomy + feminine pronouns, reader is not a minor

Summary: When Y/n L/n joins the League of Villains, a certain man’s life is turned upside down.

Quirk: Crystalize (Whatever you make contact with can crystalize into objects as long as you know how to create them, this includes weapons and everyday objects like spoons)

Passive:  Regeneration (Crystalizing things requires enhanced generation of particles, and this affects yourself and others. Crystalizing a wound can help skin and muscle regenerate almost instantly)

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Authors note: idk when but i do plan on making some nsfw chapters to this...

-----------------------------------------------------------------

It had been a day since going to the mall, but you had immediately gone back to wearing your cloak (and occasionally your sweater with the hood covering your face). It definitely wasn’t ideal, but you were comfortable.

“Knock knock,” said a male voice.

Quickly throwing on your hoodie, you open your door. 

“Shigaraki called for a meeting, we have a mission,” said Dabi.

...

“...you,” said Shigaraki, pointing a pale finger towards you.

You point back at yourself, confused.

“Solo mission. Get the briefcase from this man,” he said.

Sliding you a picture and a file with documentation, is a man. Seemingly a doctor, he has a vial that AFO needs to get his hands on.

It was obvious to everyone that Shigaraki was trying to get rid of you.

By showing AFO that you were incompetent, Tomura would be at peace with you gone.

Nobody protested.

You accepted the file.

This was gonna be easy.

...

The doctor got onto the midnight train, as you read in the papers.

For someone as odd as Shigaraki, you had to applaud his organization skills. He gave you everything you’d need to know about your target. All you had to do was execute it.

Hopping down from the train station stop, you make your way to the overhead bridge.

Climbing up the stairs, you run across the length of the bridge. Hearing the train depart, you pick up the pace.

Quickly, you jump down, landing on the train with a ‘thud’.

Crouching, you grasp on to the emergency exit handles to steady yourself.

Slowly, you walked over to where the doctor was sitting. You could see him flipping through a notebook as his window lays slightly ajar.

Waiting for the right moment, your eyes glint as the doctor kicks the briefcase under his seat, as he leaves his booth.

Swiftly, you jump down and reach a hand through the window.

Opening it wide enough, you slip your torso through first.

Standing upright in the booth, you grab the briefcase and make your escape out the window again.

But it wasn’t that easy.

As you hopped out of the train, a pro hero spotted you.

...

“Shit,” you pant as you run as fast as you can into the city.

Weaving your way through crowds of people and alleys, you were certain that the news were on your ass too.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, shoot me dead right now,” you gritted.

The news still didn’t a hold of your quirk but you didn’t have much of a choice anymore as you were met with a brick wall.

“Dead end,” said the pro hero, Ingenium.

“It was inevitable,” you said. 

“I could never outrun you on foot, I had no chance,” you sighed.

“Hand over the vials,” said Ingenium.

You snorted, “over my dead body,” you replied.

Dropping down, you touched the floor.

A huge chunk of crystals shot up and rose out of the ground, completely trapping Ingenium.

The blast almost rose above the buildings. It was hard to miss.

But you had no time to waste.

You had some vials to deliver.

...

Back at the LOV base, you slam down the briefcase onto the counter.

Saying nothing, you return to your room.

...

Shigaraki was unimpressed.

It was just luck that the No. 16 hero couldn’t withstand your quirk. Shigaraki sent you out on his patrol day on purpose, thinking that he’d take you down easily.

He’d have to figure something else out.

------------------------------------------------------------

Authours note: next ch is gonna be spicyyyy

[yelenasdiary]

Restless Nights

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Reader

Summary: When Yelena goes on a mission you struggle to fill in the days she’s gone.  

Fluff | 1.4K |

Translation: detka (baby), lyubov' (love), printsessa (princess) 

AC: I wish to write more Yelena so here’s a little idea I had, enjoy!! 

“Be safe, okay?” you say to Yelena while she hugs you tightly. “I always am” she replies with confidence, her accent thick. “I mean it Elena” you spoke in a more serious tone. “Shush detka, you know I will” Yelena whispers to you, assuring she’ll be safe. 

“Break it up you two, we have to go” Natasha interrupts the moment. You rolled your eyes at Natasha once Yelena let you out of her protective hold. “A week and I’ll be home, it’ll go so fast you won’t even know I’m gone” Yelena smiles, placing a kiss on your forehead. You give her a soft smile. If only she knew how you filled the days she was gone. 

You watched as Yelena followed Nat onto the quinjet with the rest of the team, you waved them off before making your way to through the compound to your car. Driving back to the apartment you shared with Yelena in silence. 

When you got home you did a quick tidy up of the mess Yelena felt behind while making sure she had everything for the mission. The smell of her perfume still lingered strongly throughout the apartment, making tonight easier on you than most. You ordered take out, something you rarely did when Yelena was home. You always cooked for her, showing her new recipes and then weeks later she’d have a go at cooking something you taught her. With your take out and a thick blanket you got comfortable on the sofa and started to catch up on the shows you’d been waiting to watch. 

Whenever Yelena was home, most of the time was spent together. Yelena was still learning how to be herself, finding what she liked to do and what she didn’t, what brought her comfort and what didn’t. She always made it clear that you always brought her happiness and safety. She refused to take dating advice from Natasha as she wanted to ‘wow’ you herself, without help and that she did. 

At first, when you first met Yelena, you thought she was cocky and overconfident, you bickered with her multiple times whenever she would join movie nights at Kate’s. Kate is your best friend, and she has taken great pride in match making you and Yelena. 

Your first night with Yelena was spent on the sofa, passing out midway through an episode of Grey’s Anatomy, awoken by the sound of the early morning city traffic making it’s way through the window you left open mistakenly. You sighed to yourself once you notice, hearing Yelena already giving you a lecture about how unsafe it was to leave windows open overnight.

Yelena is extremely protective of you, rightful so. If anybody laid a hand on you it was off with their head, no questions asked.  You loved and but also struggled with that side of Yelena, sometimes whenever Kate would drag the two of you out for some fun and you got some unwanted attention, Yelena was there, standing beside you with looks that could kill. You had to tell everything was okay and that there was no need to be so headstrong. 

Throwing out the empty take out boxes, you made yourself a coffee and showered only to get into a fresh set of PJs. Bored soon kicked in after you finished the episodes you hadn’t seen. With a sigh and a scan around the living room you randomly decided to rearrange the furniture, this was something you did often, and it would always leave Yelena stubbing her toe as she tried to make her way to the bedroom. 

Before you knew it, dinner time creeped around. By now, you’ve rearranged the entire apartment almost then decided you hated the new look and moved everything back. Take out for dinner once again, ordering a little extra than you normally would just so you could have leftovers tomorrow. Your phone rang as you waited for the delivery of your food to arrive, with a smile you answered happily. “Elena!” you spoke.

“Hey lyubov'” Yelena’s voice made you smile wider. 

“How’s the mission?” you asked, trying to cover the slight clinginess you had for Yelena. 

“I want it to be over sooner but it’s looking like I’ll be here for the whole week” Yelena explained. You sighed to yourself knowing you still had 6 days without her. “You haven’t rearranged the apartment again have you detka?” she added. 

“No? of course not, I’d never do such a thing” you said in a playful tone. 

“Detka we spoke about this” Yelena chuckled. 

“Okay but I moved everything back to it’s original place because I hated the new look” you argued. 

“So you wasted the whole day moving our apartment around just to put it all back to how it was?” 

“Don’t act surprised, I was and still am extremely bored. I’ve already caught up on all my shows and I’m struggling to find a decent movie to watch and I’m pretty sure that it’s suppose to rain all through the week so I’m basically house bound and you’re not here sooooo” you blabbered.

“Why don’t you get Kate over? Have a sleepover party or whatever it is she’s tried to get me to do”

“You’d love our little parties, give them a chance one day”

“Yeah detka, I love you but I don’t want any vegetables covering my eyes while you pluck hair from my eyebrows” Yelena laughed to at the idea. 

“One day my love, it’ll happen one day!” you replied.

“I’m sorry to keep this short little lyubov' but I have to go, I just wanted to call and make sure you were okay” 

“It’s okay baby, my dinner is about to arrive anyways” you played off your disappointment. 

“Promise to close the damn window before you go to bed?” 

“Ho-“ you foze, looking at the still opened winow “how did you know?”

“It’s you” 

“Fair!”

“I love you, I’ll call again whenever I can”

“I love you too” you smiled before hearing the sound of her ending the call. You sighed and placed your phone on the coffee table in front of you, clicking through the Netflix suggestions before hearing a knock on the door. Your food had finally arrived. 

The rest of the week was about the same. You did some online shopping, read a book or two, watched a few too many movies, did a little spring cleaning of your wardrobe, Kate dragged you out of the apartment a couple of times for lunch or a morning jog but you hadn’t heard from Yelena. She was due home tomorrow afternoon, you made sure the apartment was fresh and clean, all the takeout boxes thrown away and the fridge stocked with new ingredients for when Yelena returned.

Sleeping was the worst part of Yelena being away. You barely slept and whenever you did, it was full of consistent moving around, huffing and puffing, throwing the covers off before pulling them back over your body, drinking half a bottle of water then the need to use the toilet was strong enough to wake you.

Tonight was the worst it’s been. Yelena’s perfume no longer lingered; her side of the bed left untouched while loud cracks of thunder stopped you from falling asleep. You hated when the thunder got louder, you tried to remember when Yelena would hold you extra tight whenever she was home and there was a thunderstorm. She’d whisper sweet nothings to you while you feel into slumber. But tonight? You were on your own. Laying on your side looking at the photo of you and Yelena that sat happily on your bedside table you whispered, wished she’d come home. 

Yelena quietly unlocked the door to the apartment, placing her travel bag on the sofa before throwing her vest over the armrest. She shook her head as she saw you’d forgotten to close the window once again. She closed it without a sound before making her way to the bathroom and having a shower. The sound of the thunderstorm drained out any sounds as you tossed and turned in your sleep, ignoring the thunder so you could sleep. 

Yelena smiled softly to herself as she stood in the door way of the bedroom wrapped in a towel watching you trying to make yourself comfortable. She grabbed some fresh PJs, the time on the antilog clock on her beside table reading “3:48am” when slid into bed. You felt her wrap an arm around you and pull her close into her. 

“El…Elena?” you questioned tiredly. 

“Shhh detka, go back to sleep” she whispered, kissing the back of your neck softly. 

“You’re home” you mumbled, sinking into her hold. She hushed you once more as you placed your hand on the arm she had wrapped around you. “I’m here printsessa” she whispered before the two of you fell asleep. 

Taglist: @red1culous | @bentleywolf29 | @natasha-belova | @jeyramarie | @lissaaaa145 | @high--power | @parkerdaramitzzzz

[cahrlotah]

𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠

ANON! I’m so sorry this took me so long, I’ve been dealing with some shit in my personal life but I hope you enjoy it!<3

trigger warnings: slight smut, use of female anatomy, swear words, some kind of ptsd

English is not my first language so there might be some grammar/spelling mistakes

“Good night Dustin” I say, giving my little brother a kiss on his forehead. I close his door and head to my room, my bed is comfortable so I fall asleep in a matter of seconds. 

***********

Dustin and I are running through the Upside Down, trying to escape some Demogorgons. He is in front of me, but he suddenly falls to the ground. I stop, when I turn around I see his chest wide open while that fucking moster devours him. His unconscious body lays down while his head is turned away from me.

***********

I can’t even finish that horrendous dream because I wake up all of the sudden, tears down my face and heavily breathing. My chest going up and down, all my body covered in a thin layer of cold sweat and shaking to the point I can’t even pick up the phone to call my boyfriend, Steve. 

I get dressed quickly, just some jeans, a white t-shirt and Steve’s old basketball jacket and head out without making noise. I unlock my bike, not really in the mood to drive, I just want to feel the slightly cold September air on my face. The ride is fast, when I arrive at his house I can see his window light up, his silhouette behind the curtains, it seems he is taking his shirt off, just getting ready to go to bed. After feeling like a creep, I make my way to his driveway, I throw the bike on the grass and knock on his door. I can hear his footsteps coming down the stairs “Coming!” I hear him say from the other side, after a couple of seconds I have a shirtless beautiful boy in front of me. 

“Hell-” he doesn’t even finish when he realizes who is knocking on his door. “ Hi there pretty girl” he pulls me in for a kiss. “You look so pretty when you wear that jacket” he whispers to me after he pulls out from the kiss. “ What are you doing here?” he asks, cupping my face with his hands. 

“I had a really bad nightmare about those fucking demogorgons eating Dustin, and I just needed to see you for a bit. Is that okay?” I look up to meet his eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah no problem babe” he lets me in, and we go up to his room. The house is quiet as his parents are out of town for some business trip. The stairs creek below us as we go up, he is in front of me leading the way, his hand holding mine tightly. We walk in silence, the hall leading to his room feels infinite. 

When he opens the door his familiar scent fills my nostrils. His room is like my safe space, all I need to give me comfort is there, his comfy bed with fluffy pillows, the smell of his expensive cologne all over the place, his teddy bear somehow perfectly placed in the middle of his bed, everything organized and obviously him, Steve Harrington. The only one who knows how to play with my hair without annoying me, the only one who can make me come to my senses when I’m stressed, he is just the best. 

Without saying anything he lights some candles, puts on some chill music and lays on his bed, inviting me to lay next to him. I waste no time, I quickly run into his arms. He plays with my hair for a while, the candles slowly burning down, he lays some kisses on my forehead while his hands now lay on my waist. I don’t even know how this happened but the kisses get more heated, he is on top of me. He places soft kisses all over my face but then when he moves to my neck things change, his lips are more harsh on my skin, between the biting and the sucking a moan escapes my mouth.

“If you keep making these sounds of yours, I will have to fuck the shit out of you”. his stare burning mine. Now he is more aggressive, actually leaving marks on me. His hands are all over my body, especially concentrating on my ass and tits. My hands are wrapped around his neck, pulling our bodies together, making the kiss more intense. 

Steve slowly moves his hands to my hips, making them move at the pace he wants. The air becomes heavier and I can start to feel how inside of his pants something is getting harder by the seconds. With the help of one of his hands he pulls up the top I was wearing. Everything is perfect, it feels like nothing can ruin this moment.

“STEVEEEEEEEEEEE” the sound of my brother screaming and his loud steps coming up catches us off guard, making me fall from the bed. Luckily Steve is quick enough and before Dustin can open the door, he goes outside. I ran towards my top and put it  on as fast as I can, afterwards I glue my ear to the door trying to hear what those two are talking about.

“Steve I swear to God she is missing” Dustin says agitated.  

“And why do you think that buddy?” he asks calmly, most likely just to calm Dustin down, he can get pretty anxious with stuff like this.

“I woke up and I went to her room and she was not there. So I assumed that she was with Robin or Nancy, so I called them and guess what?!?” he doesn’t let Steve answer that the is auto replying to his question “SHE IS NOT WITH THEM! WHAT THE FUCK DUDE, I SWEAR TO GOD IF SOMETHING HAS HAPPENED TO HER I’M GOING TO KILL SOME-” he can’t finish because I open the door. He is shocked to see me here, his expression exposes him. 

“I had a nightmare which led to a panic attack so I came here to disconnect a little bit, I’m sorry if I gave you a mini heart attack” I look at my brother as innocently as I can. He runs towards me hugging me so hard I really think he is going to break a rib or something.

“I thought you went missing just like Will” he says burying his face on my neck, some tears wetting my skin.

“Oh my god Dustin..” I hug him even harder, I look at Steve as a wave of guilt fills my body. While I was having fun with Steve my poor little brother was having a panic attack because he thought I went missing like his friend. I break the hug “ How about Steve orders some pizza and we can watch any movie you want?” He looks at Steve, his face instantly lighting up and running towards him.

“Buddy, which type of pizza do you want?” he asks, messing Dustin’s hair up. He turns his head and I mouth “Thank you” and he says “No problem” back to me.

[alfredosauce50]

The anatomy of the obsessed artist [2p! Italy x reader]

Synopsis: You have the golden opportunity to display your art at a newly opened gallery. Nobody stops to look at your work until an eccentric connoisseur praises it, even asking you if he can buy it. Touched and fascinated by his personality, you agree to meet him over coffee. Now that he’s no stranger, he keeps inviting you over to his lavish estate until he realizes it’s not the art he’s so obsessed with. It’s the artist. Wordcount: 3, 686 The reader is referred to as she/her. “Nihilism represented a crude form of positivism and materialism, a revolt against the established social order; it negated all authority exercised by the state, by the church, or by the family.” - Encyclopedia of Britannica

“It's hideous.” He murmured, his eyes narrowed with contempt. They were a hot magenta hue, quick-moving and critical of everything they fixed on. How much he wished to say he was standing back to admire a masterpiece. Tossing his paintbrush into the kitchen sink with a sigh, he sauntered to the couch and plummeted down on it.

A loud clang was heard, but it never fazed his companion, who barely dodged the trajectory of the brush. “Oh, really?” They snorted. “It looks the same as every other painting you've done.”

He whipped his head to him and glared.

“Like you'd have an eye for these things, Lutz.”

Said man gave a shrug. This was probably the hundredth time they had this conversation, so he could practically predict what Luciano was about to say—and how he would wind up listening unwillingly to his passionate spiels.

“Just listen to me speak for once.”

Lutz scoffed and poured himself a hot cup of coffee. “Here we go again...” He grumbled with a distinct droop to his features.

Rolling his head back to the pristine, white ceiling, Luciano threw his hands up in emphasis. “It's the only damn thing that gives this room some color. I need to do better, Lutz. Otherwise, I'll tear this whole place down!” Even then, his animated movements were minuscule compared to the tall walls that surrounded him.

The other sipped on his mug. “If you're so stuck—” He smacked his lips. “—how about going to the new art gallery downtown? Anything to get you to shut up.” Lutz grinned at that, half-expecting him to launch a few throwing knives his way. But he never did. Instead, he jumped up and extended an index to point at him accusingly.

“You think you're so smart, huh, cazzo? Well, I might just go. Just to prove you wrong.” Grabbing his coat hanging over the couch, he threw it on and marched downstairs. As the echoes of his footsteps faded, he gave one final reckoning. “You can't rush art, dumbass! I'll turn the place upside down, and I still won't find anything worth my time.”

The volume of his thoughts had never been so loud. It was the only thing he heard in this quiet institution during its downtime. Nobody was around, save for him, but that allowed him to ramble to himself--whatever he was staring at, it was everything he had been looking for.

“This was definitely worth my time.” He muttered with a pistol grip on his chin. As he scanned over the canvas to take in the brushstrokes, he shook his head. “I hate to think he said something smart for once.” They were so violent, yet so gentle. A unique balance of nihilism and faith. Reaching up to his dark maroon hair, he dug through it and laughed in awe. “This is magnificent. Bellisima!”

“I hope you mean what you say, sir. That means a lot to me.” He turned to the voice ended up gawking at a woman. As he processed the words, he was at a loss for his own.

“Oddio--you don't mean you painted this, do you, signorina?”

She nodded coyly, much to his delight.

“Mhm. The name on the label is mine.”

At the sound of that, he gleamed and took both her hands into his own. “How much?”

She blinked, unsure of whether she heard him correctly. Was he offering to buy her work? “Sorry?”

“How much do you want for your painting? I'll pay you handsomely. One grand. Ten grand. However much you desire! I just need this in my living room. Whatever you ask for, it's a done deal!”

In your short career, you never imagined capturing someone's attention so passionately with your work. Your initial impression of the man was a rich art collector of some kind--an eccentric enthusiast--and not a connoisseur by any means. He even dressed the part, having adorned himself in a loose, silky blouse with a coat tied around his waist. His fashion was flashy and exuded confidence, though nothing else could have suited his personality.

As you talked to him over a coffee, however, it became clear to you he was much more than that.

“I've never seen somebody use color like that! You must've done lots of practice to get that good, eh?” He mused, watching you light up at his praise. There was no denying the sincerity in his voice, so you couldn't help being drawn to him and his zeal. “I'll be honest with you, bella. I'm not letting you run off before we settle on something.”

He could tell from the way you leaned in so subtly, never once breaking your eye contact as you listened to him. And knowing this did wonders--he slowly found himself drawn to you.

“Thank you, Luciano. I'm really flattered, but I can't just sell it to you. It's part of the gallery now.” You smiled gently, curling your fingers around the cup handle. Even as you sipped on your beverage, your gaze on him never faltered. And before you could catch any disappointment on his part, you waved your hands at him.

“I don't mean anything by it, honestly. I'm glad that you understand what I'm trying to say--like, you could've interpreted it completely differently. I wouldn't be able to stop you, either. But the fact that you didn't...” He followed you attentively with those sharp and mysterious orbs, but you were strangely comfortable under his scrutiny.

“Maybe we have similar minds.”

The man had been studying you as you spoke. While he did, this one, singular thought occurred to him. There was nothing in the world he loved more in the world than being heard.

“Hearing you talk is the same as being listened to,” Luciano admitted with a small laugh. Deep inside, he knew Lutz always listened. Unwillingly, that was. But being heard and understood was another story. “You take the words right out of my mouth, bella. I don't know how you do it, but you have to stop reading my mind. It's invasive.” He darted his eyes over your expression that morphed into dumbfoundedness--which served as a prelude for embarrassment.

So he couldn't help but smile flirtatiously. “Take me out to dinner first. Only then will I let you finish my sentences.”

You furrowed your brows together, but his smile was far too contagious to be staved off. The end result was an endearingly stupid face that was a cross between a frown and a grin. “Does lunch count then, you impossible little man? I mean, it's around noon.”

He shook his head, amused. Luciano expected you to pull away, but it seemed like he bit off more than he could chew. You were a handful. He was never a fan of handfuls or really anything that required his energy, but he'd be damned if this was the last time he saw you.

“But seriously, (F/N). I need your paintings. And it doesn't have to be something you've already painted.” Standing up at that, he neared your side lowered himself to your level. He settled a hand on your shoulder, much to your surprise. But you never tried to pull away. “I want you to paint for me at my place. I'll do whatever it takes. I'll drink my weight in this mediocre coffee if I have to.”

With his intoxicating personality, all he needed was a few more espressos to do the convincing.

“I can tell from your taste that you're pretty nihilistic.” You commented with a hint of disbelief. “But this is just crazy! What do you even do for a living?” All the expensive decor and extravagance of his stupidly large mansion must have costed a fortune! Lifting your head to take in the sheer size and height of his living room, you then shot him an incredulous look. “Well? I'm curious.”

Luciano leaned against the couch and folded his arms. “Oh, you don't want to know, trust me.” He grinned devilishly.

“What, are you in the mafia or something?” You joked.

He craned his head from right to left.

“Eh. Something like that.”

You blinked, not expecting him to be so frank. Then, you laughed sheepishly, suddenly feeling as if you've walked right into a trap. “... Are you serious?” The man sensed your uneasiness and walked over promptly. Before you could react, he held your arm, but it was much too gentle to stir any panic.

“Don't worry. Nobody would go after an artist I hired.” He leaned in to keep you hostage to his piercing eyes. The close proximity only heightened the tension you didn't know existed. What he said next, however, would have you blushing like a bride. “To have a target on your head means you're a liability. So unless we were an item--”

He smiled contently at the sight of your reddening cheeks. “--nothing will happen.”

Fortunately, your mortification was short-lived as you remembered your circumstances. Giving him a light shove, you walked off to his hallway. While your back was turned to him, he bit back a sharp grin, but to no avail. Man, were you feisty.

“Stop being such a womanizer and show me your studio, Luciano.” You mused, pausing in the doorway to glance at him over your shoulder. Was that playfulness he saw in your eyes?

“It isn't very professional.”

He hung his head and threw his hands up. Being scolded and ordered around was his worst pet peeve. But when you did it, he was only more compelled to misbehave.

“Mi dispiace. But I was only kidding. If I was part of the mob, my windows wouldn't be this big. Nor this abundant.” Making his way to your side, he walked with you to the said studio.

“And Luciano is a bit of a mouthful, no? You call me Luci.”

Unbeknownst to the two of you, someone else had entered the kitchen to pour themselves a drink. And boy, were they in for a show.

“You got it, boss. You call the shots.” A voice spoke in a gravely-exaggerated mobster accent.

“You're milking it...”

“I'm just joking, Luci. Let me have this moment.”

“Fine. Maybe I should've kept pretending. That'll get you to be a little more obedient.”

“And where's the fun in that?”

“Hmph.”

Lutz narrowed his eyes once the voices faded into silence. And he thought he hated being called Luci.

A mischievous smirk plastered across his face.

“Looks like somebody's found their inspiration.”

A few hours later, he appeared in the studio with a canned beer in hand. Even in such a lavish estate, no form of entertainment could beat pestering an old friend. Waltzing inside like he owned the place, he grinned toothily at what he saw. You and Luciano were busy working on a painting. But rather than using brushes, you both used your fingers.

“Hey.”

Luciano glanced at him and immediately felt the beginnings of anger simmer inside. “What do you want?”

Lutz laughed breathily. “Heh. No knives today?”

“If you don't get out, there will be!” The other whisper-shouted.

You stopped painting and turned to the newcomer with nothing short of curiosity. “... Hi. Are you Luci's henchman?” The joke was probably long dead, but you couldn't resist. Not when the stranger was built on six feet of pure muscle. “Nice to meet you.”

So this was the mysterious artist who managed to tame the bastard, huh? Lutz flattened his lips thoughtfully. “... In a way.”

“No, he's not. Now, get out. Your presence is ruining the mood... And killing my brain cells.” At the sound of that, you exploded into a burst of hearty laughter. Seeing Luciano push him out and leave colorful handprints on his tank only intensified those laughs. Once he managed to get his henchman out of the room, he whipped his head to you with a flustered glare.

“What's so funny?” He frowned. For one, he was rather taken aback at how he wasn't annoyed at you. At all. If someone like Lutz pushed their luck by teasing him, there would be more than one scar marring that punchable face of his.

“Nothing, nothing. I just thought... Maybe we could ask for his top and sell it. That was definitely a masterpiece.” You sighed, catching him off guard yet again. “It's the best work you've done today...”

The blush on his face deepened. A comment like that should've ticked him off, but he only found himself thoroughly infatuated. But that was preposterous! He was only letting this slide because you weren't that German bastard of a bum. That had to be it. But no matter what you did, he didn't have a single mean bone in his body for you. And he was about to test that theory.

“If you thought that was a masterpiece, I'll make you some more.” Marching over and undoing your apron, he wiped his fingers all over your once crisp white shirt. Looking down with a gasp, you weren't prepared for him to clap your cheeks and leave two brown handprints.

“You bitch!”

In his whole life surrounded by the worst potty-mouths, himself included, he'd never heard somebody cuss with so much sincerity. So the most logical reaction was to return the favor, if not be a little annoyed. But even as you ruined his blouse, which happened to be more expensive than everything in the room, he was cackling hysterically.

By the time you both calmed down, he had settled his chin atop your head and wrapped two arms around your neck. The paint on his face was drying up, but he was in no hurry to wash it off. Giving you a squeeze, he leaned down and pressed his cheek to yours. “You're coming tomorrow, aren't you?”

“Mhm.”

“And the day after that?”

“I don't see why not.”

“Then what about the day after that?”

You faced him and pinched his cheek affectionately, but he never complained. “If I was, what's the point of leaving, hm? I have something on that day, but I'll update you.”

Standing up at that, you felt his arms slide off of your shoulders. Luciano pulled away reluctantly, and as you left his studio, he found himself trailing after you against his own will. As quiet as he was, inside, he was tearing himself apart, torn between asking you to stay in the guest room and driving you home. But in the end, he got in the car.

Once he arrived outside your house, his body acted out unexpectedly when he shot his hand out to grab yours. The sudden contact startled you, though you could only gleam at his paint-smeared face that stifled back a thousand words. “What, do you miss me that much already?” You chuckled, much to his pleasure.

“You're just missing me too less.” He closed his eyes for a satisfied look. When he opened them again, he added this. “I'll pick you up here. Same spot. 9 am. If you don't show up in five minutes, I'll break inside and pull you out of bed.” Only then did he let you go.

“You got it, boss.”

With that said, you waved at him and made your way inside. Once the door clicked shut, he returned his gaze to the dashboard and shook his head with a defeated smile. “Oh my god.”

When he climbed the flight of stairs to appear next to the kitchen, the hiss of an espresso machine was heard. Rolling his head to it absently, he dropped his keys on the island and dug his hands through his sticky hair. Without addressing the blonde, who took an obvious interest in his disheveled appearance, he sauntered to the couch and flopped down on it.

“... Luciano.”

“What do you want?” He muffled his voice into the cushion.

Lutz walked over with a mug in hand and sipped it. Pointing to his own face, he swirled his index in circles. “You have a little something there.” When the other rolled his head to him, so did their colorful face.

The next two days saw steady progress in the project he paid you to do. While the painting moved closer to completion, he cared less and less about the finished product. At the same time, his eagerness for you to come grew exponentially. He could never admit it, but that didn't mean Lutz couldn't see right through him.

A single glance at him working in the studio was more than enough to deduce the conclusion that he was hopelessly head over heels for you. For one, it wasn't right to say he was even working anymore. Instead, he was staring at you, and sometimes, for twenty minutes or more if you were particularly immersed in your art.

This was only confirmed in due time.

Trotting downstairs to the cellar, he discovered that over ten bottles of wine had disappeared. And the culprit promptly made an appearance when he returned to the living room. Luciano was holding an empty bottle when they bumped into each other, the contact on his shoulder causing him to drop it. When it shattered on the marble floor, so did his patience.

“What the fu--watch where you're going, you fucking idiot!” He hissed, giving the other a strong shove back.

Beer fizzed out of the can and splashed onto his white tank. Lutz couldn't care less about ruining his clothes, but wasting beer? He pulled back with a growl. “I could say the same for you. I'm not the stumbling drunk here cuz' I can actually hold my weight.”

Luciano rolled his eyes and inhaled a deep breath.

“You know what, just leave me alone.” He huffed, kicking the shards on the ground. Once he scattered the glass all over the hall, he stormed off to his studio. Letting out a frustrated string of colorful words, he tore through more canvases than he cared to count. Punching a hole in one, then using another as target practice, half of the artwork was completely destroyed by the time Lutz showed up.

“I don't get it! Why am I so angry? Why can't I paint something like this?” Luciano exasperated, gesturing forcefully to the painting you were working on. Then, he marched up to the man and gripped the front of his tank. “Am I just that shit? But that can't be!”

At this point, Lutz was done with arguing.

“... You know what I'm about to say.”

Luciano threw his hands up as they chorused the same line simultaneously. “It looks the same as every other painting you've done--yeah, I know! I didn't really expect you to give me any useful advice. I just wanted you to listen to me.”

“Don't I always listen to you?”

“No--”

“Wasn't it me who suggested for you to go to that art gallery?”

“Yeah, but it's not like--it's not like you knew she was gonna show up! (F/N) being there only happened once in a blue moon. You were just lucky, so don't think you're a genius or anything, ha!”

Lutz scoffed, but his unimpressed expression quickly morphed into a shrewd one. “Accept it, liebling. You're down bad. Down astronomically. Just invite her over, and when she comes, you'll know what I mean. It's not the paintings you're making a fuss over.” He watched Luciano's hair spike up like a cat, then him light up like a Christmas tree. That little man was many things, but an honest person was not one of them.

“You think you're so smart, huh, cazzo?” Luciano pointed at him accusingly. “Well, I might just do it. Just to prove you wrong.”

When he left, Lutz clicked his tongue with raised brows.

“That's what you said last time...”

And invite you over he did. When he spotted a silhouette on the other side of the blurry glass, he sprung up from the couch and swung open the door with great gusto. There you were, as effortlessly charming as he remembered, and a little startled. You never had the chance to knock, nor process his scruffy appearance.

“Luci--hey! You look... A little more tired than I remember.”

Without a shred of hesitation, he grabbed your hand and pulled you to his bedroom. Yet again, his body was acting against his will, but perhaps, this was what he wanted in the first place. He just never admitted it. As he slowly came to terms with it, his eyes widened to dinner plates, and his heart pounded obnoxiously in his chest.

“Hey, what're you--”

He pointed wordlessly to the bed.

You shook your head, unable to figure out what he meant. “What do you want me to do?”

Luciano glowered at you, but it served as a stark contrast to the softness in his voice. “I'll pay you. As much as you want. Just stay there.” Seeing that you had yet to go along with his requests, he marched over to you and laid you down. Before you could object, he threw the blanket over you and tucked you in.

Sliding himself in from the other side, he scooted in and coiled his arms around your stomach. “Now, sleep.”

Breathing out a soft sigh, you rolled to him and brushed his mussy bangs back. “For someone so straightforward, you're not very honest, are you?” Sitting up to unzip your jacket, you proceeded to take your shirt off. When you stripped down, blood rushed to flush his cheeks as he came to realize he was completely love-struck.

“... Holy shit.”

Climbing onto his lap, you laughed over his lips and squeezed his neck. “You're really bad at hiding things. But like you said, I can read your mind.”

Luciano knitted his brows together. Then, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your mouth. “And it's very invasive. Please stop it.”

“Only if you promise to pay me in the morning.”

“... You're not a prostitute.”

“Oh, but you are one too. We're all whores, if you think about it. We just sell different parts of ourselves.”

“Go to sleep, idiota.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

[1kook]

espn & bdsm

this is part 6 of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills.  warnings; smut (18+) in the forms of brief femdom, handcuffs, nipple clamps, blindfolding, flogging/use of a riding crop, soft dom kook, cunnilingus, spitting, unprotected but passionate, degradation, as always it starts horny n then turns into I love u kink miscellaneous; kook has a swollen ankle so idk how he did all this, jk abuses the fuck outta pet names part 7, revenge gone wrong tbh, this was honestly a beginner’s intro to vanilla bdsm word count; 12.7k

notes; this is like… a healing fic… for the part before lol. also i did not know what was going to happen next as I was writing. anyway entire smut scene was based off THIS bad boy ur welcome fellas and the Jungkook described here is from in the soop episode 2... cutie... yes every single 1 of those words is a link

lmk what you think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

You're at the nail salon with Doyeon when she first mentions it.

“Have you ever, like,” she pauses, making a vague, swivel gesture with her head. You furrow your brows and she sighs. “Topped him. Have you ever been the one to take control?”

Your nail artist blushes, furiously filing away at your nails until the most perfect stiletto shape stares you back in the face. “Oh. Not really,” you admit, wiggling your wet toe nails around in the styrofoam flip flops issued by the salon. “I mean, sometimes I talk him through it.”

Doyeon snorts. “Babe, talking him through it and being the boss are two completely different things,” she says rather dryly, seemingly unbothered by the fact your two nail techs are being subjected to this more than intimate conversation. But you’ve had weirder talks with Doyeon in public; this doesn’t phase you. “Listen,” she says suddenly, dropping her voice down to a whisper that has you leaning closer to hear her. “You know how I’m a member of that site, right?”

You nod. “Oh yeah— Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide!, right?” She kicks your shin, but the jab is muted by the bottom of her own styrofoam flip flop.

“Yeah, just tell everyone here my credit card number while you’re at it,” she hisses. Her anger fades soon enough. “Well, they’re always sending me all sorts of freebies for my devoted patronage,” she explains. She quirks her lips to the side, throwing one brief glance at the blushing nail artists in front of you. Eventually she seems to come to a conclusion. “Long story short they sent me some cuffs and I’m gonna give you them.”

Your jaw drops. “Woah, really? I don’t know… Don’t those usually run kinda pricey?” you ask tentatively. You’re trying to play it off, act like this isn’t something you want, but the reality is so much worse.

The minute the word cuffs had slipped through her lips it’s like a door opened before your eyes. A big, wooden door with chains strapped across it and a padlock you swore you’d never open.

Somewhere in your mind, you had always convinced yourself handcuffs in bed was something you’d like to have done to you. But, because she was your best friend and by extension a personified version of all your freakiest, often filtered, thoughts, it was like Doyeon had reached straight into your cranium and extracted your most secret fantasy— and that was Jungkook in handcuffs.

Your nail artist pats your hand, motioning you to head over to the drying station. Before you can be separated from Doyeon, you whip around to throw her one desperate look. “I have never wanted anything so bad in my life.”

She cackles loudly, easily garnering the attention of every employee and nail enthusiast in the salon with the evil witch vibes she exudes.

Truth be told, your argument with Jungkook had brought upon a newfound appreciation for him. Weird to say, considering you had wanted to kill the dude when it had originally happened. But the great thing about you and Jungkook was that you were flexible people— both in bed and out. A few long conversations later and you had reached the root of the problem.

And that root was your apparent lack of communicating when something was wrong. It was weird to think that anything could ever be wrong when Jungkook was involved. He was your honeybun, sugar plum, pumpy-umpy-umpkin. Your sweetie pie, for lack of better wording, and he could do no wrong—

—is what you’d like to say. But if there’s anything you’ve learned in the past year of dating Jungkook, it’s that perfection was a made up belief that revolved around the idea that someone’s flaws couldn’t possibly be a good thing. And as you’ve come to realize, Jungkook wasn’t the perfect gentleman you’d initially chalked him up to be. He was human, just like you, with his own list of worries and thoughts, and sometimes those thoughts manifested into flaws. They could be ugly or they could be beautiful, but at the end of the day, they all made Jungkook into the person he was— and you loved that person. Disgustingly so.

You had your moments, and he had his. Everything would not always be sunshine and rainbows for the two of you, but it was fine so long as you learned to play in the rain and stomp in the puddles.

Still.

You were you.

A slightly mean, slightly conniving, petty ass human who had been plotting his revenge since the day the two of you made up. I mean, you weren’t actually just going to let him get off the hook like that, were you? He had saved himself last time with a gooey, heartfelt apology and confession, followed by some extraordinary dicking down that had left you Naked and Afraid for three days after.

But you weren’t that easy! No, ma’am. You had to let him know that some gorgeous demon dick was not enough to satisfy you after a fight like that.

Jungkook was in for a desperately needed reality check, one that jingles in your purse when you step out of the Uber that drops you off at his place. You know he’s home because his front light is on, and also because he’d texted you that he was watching some soccer match on tv tonight. He’s a pretty big fan, especially of the club playing tonight, so you decide it’s a perfect night to strike.

Your copy of his key slips right into the keyhole. Your slippers are in the same place they always are, neatly set off to the side right by the stairs. He’s not in his living room, undoubtedly the most perfect place to watch any type of sporting event with that huge Jumbotron of his. The damn thing made it feel like you were in the stadium itself.

There’s a quiet hum coming from upstairs. You creep up the steps, carefully rounding the corner at the landing until you’re staring right into his dimly lit bedroom.

The way Jungkook’s got his bedroom set up is so that you can look directly at his door from the bed, terribly inconvenient for when that sleep paralysis demon hits in the middle of the night and you’re left staring into the dark hallway. He’s snuggled comfortably over his sheets, about three pillows supporting his back. The light of the tinier, more acceptable television he keeps in his room is dancing across his features in bright shades of green. You almost throw yourself onto his mattress like a starfish until you spot the carefully placed foot on the bed.

“What the hell did you do?” you blurt. A wrong move, considering he hadn’t seen you yet and your sudden appearance makes him jump nearly ten feet into the air, almost knocking down the bag of ice that sits on his ankle. “Oh my god, it was that damned Pilates class, wasn’t it?” you fret, rounding the bed until you’re on his side.

“Oh hey,” he says as if you’re not currently pulling the first eight seasons of Grey’s Anatomy to the forefront of your head to treat him. “When’d you get here?”

“Cut the crap, who did this to you?” you ask, sitting beside him with the utmost care. You drop your bag off to the side, the loud clatter of the inside contents vaguely registering in your head. The ice pack comes off easily, revealing a relatively okay looking ankle save for the slight swell towards the more medial aspect of it.

Jungkook takes the moment to sit up, joining you in your inspection of his injury. “No one,” he answers, using his new position to drop a kiss against the side of your head. “I fell off the ladder helping Mrs. Jung across the street.”

You choke. “You fell off a ladder?” you squawk, eyes wide as your gaze shifts from his ankle to his entire body.

He places a hand on your shoulder, “babe, I was on like the third step. It was one of those old wooden ones,” he explains with a nonchalant shrug. “The step just happened to snap on my way down.”

You scoff. “That old lady is out to get you,” you warn him. “Remember the time she almost had you plug in those burnt out Christmas lights for her? The ones that would have electrocuted you to death.”

Jungkook laughs, settling back into his stack of pillows. “In her defense, she’s old,” he offers. He’s wrapped up in a black hoodie, fluffy bangs parted down the middle. He’s got on some blue shorts, a huge difference from his usual dark-toned clothing. He looks so good and warm, and you’re suddenly hit with the fact you can’t possibly handcuff this poor, injured angel to his bedpost and ride his cock into the sunset. “You didn’t tell me you were coming over.”

You deflate, wild fantasies thrown out the window. “Yeah, well,” you sigh, ditching your pants and climbing over him until you’re snuggled into his side. “Wanted to show you my nails.”

It’s a lame excuse. But he buys it, so.

“They’re cute,” he says, taking your hand in his. He turns your hand over, inspects your pretty new acrylics like he actually has any idea how much they cost or how sexy they look. He raises your hand to his face, pressing a smooch against your knuckles that has you heart thumping embarrassingly loud in your chest. God, you hated this fool.

You turn your nose up at him, like you’re some snooty rich girl who couldn’t give him the time of day. Except it’s not like that, and Jungkook knows.

“What’re you watching?” you ask instead.

He’s got that stupid dopey smile on you, the one that takes one nudge against his side to snap him out of. “Ah, just the game.”

You squint at the screen. “Is this Fox Sports?” you ask in disgust.

He pinches your side. “This is ESPN,” he corrects. “And you don’t know shit about sports channels,” he points out. “So sit this one out.” You give in with a huff, cuddling closer into his side while trying to jostle him as little as possible. Jungkook seems to have no deeply rooted concerns about his injured ankle if the way he hauls you into his arms is any indicator. “How did nails with Doyeon go?”

“You know, the usual,” you respond, idly toying with one of the strings on his hoodie as your eyes focus on the little figures running across the screen. He hums, gesturing for you to elaborate. “Talked about sex, how much better than you at life she is, some more sex.”

He scoffs at that. “Doyeon is not better than me, and I have a whole trophy case to prove it.”

“Okay, but have you singlehandedly Twitter beefed with an entire sorority in your freshman year of university and won?”

He frowns. “No.”

You give him a look, one that says stand down now unless you want to lose to my best friend and get your feelings hurt. Jungkook understands. “Anyway,” he announces, turning his attention back to the screen with you. You think his team might be winning—you vaguely remember seeing him wear a similar jersey once—so he’s pretty relaxed for now. “They’re doing pretty good considering they just lost their main striker.”

You have no idea what that means. “Who? Messi?”

Jungkook knows you don’t know. “He doesn’t even play in this league,” he explains anyway.

“Oh, I saw him trending on Twitter last week. Thought he died or something. Whole time it was just a bunch of soccer nerds crying about him leaving his team.”

He laughs. “You should be a sportscaster,” Jungkook decides after your ever-so-eloquent recap, tucking his head cutely against your shoulder. There was a study once that claimed the incessant need to squeeze a baby’s cheeks or hug puppies tightly was actually the innate human response to kill something they felt threatened by. Oddly enough, you find yourself thinking of that as Jungkook’s citrusy shampoo floods your nostrils.

“Oh, speaking of Doyeon,” he says suddenly. “Did you give her my address? I got a weird package from that store she likes that I genuinely don’t remember ever ordering.” You frown, sitting up slightly until you can look at the side of his face, the cute mole on his cheek calling your name.

“What?” you ask. “Was it in her name?” Jungkook nods. You’re about to tear the roof off his house and go hunt that evil wench down when realization dawns on you. “Oh, no, yeah I gave her your address. My mom stayed over last weekend and Doyeon needed to order something nasty. Guess it got delayed until now.”

Jungkook nods and then doesn’t say much else, which is weird considering the circumstances. You expected him to gently scold you for carelessly giving the psycho that was Kim Doyeon his address, but she’s been here a few times to pick you up, even came over for beer night once. She probably knew it anyway, but you still expected some type of reaction of disapproval from him.

Something’s off, and you know better than to leave it at that. You poke his cheek, right where that mole you’d been eyeing was. “Did you open her package?” you ask, grin slowly consuming your features at the fact Jungkook was apparently a mail snooper.

He looks away. You laugh. “Oh my god, you did,” you cackle, sitting up beside him to get a good look at the blush growing on his cheeks. “What did you see?”

“Nothing,” he huffs, pretending to be overly invested in his soccer match again, but that ship died the moment you stepped into his room. “Babe, I can't see the match.”

You roll your eyes, purposefully shifting in front of him so he’s forced to look at the maniac look in your eyes. “What did you see, Jeon Jungkook, and are we going to steal it from her again?”

His cheeks bloom impossibly darker at that. “No!” he coughs, pointedly avoiding your gaze.

But your curiosity is at its peak now, his reactions only exacerbating it. You grab him by the shoulders, hands balling the material of his hoodie as you give him one firm shake. “What did you see,” you demand.

“Oh my god,” he gives in. You release him and he flops back onto his pillow mountain. “They were things,” he explains slowly, cheeks rosy. “For your, y’know,” a vague gesture over his chest.

You frown. “A bra?” you guess. “I’m not gonna lie, Kook, think I just lost a little respect for you.”

“No!” he huffs. “They were… little clamps. For your nipples.”

If this was a cartoon, you’re almost certain you’d be that character with the object in question in their eyes, heart fluttering in your chest at the words that leave his mouth.

Immediately, two things become obvious to you.

One, Kim Doyeon was a bigger freak than you’d expected who obviously dabbled in an assortment of trades. Clamps, your brain screams, overwhelmed with the image that appears in your head, the one that has a shiver running straight to your core. You would have to thank her for this gracious, unintentional gift she’s bestowed upon you.

Two, you’re gonna have to write her the best, most plausible apology letter tomorrow when you inform her those clamps have been lost in the mail, never to be seen again. Or you could just straight up tell her you snatched them up the moment you found out what they were, but you doubt that’ll go over well.

Jungkook groans. “You have that look in your eye,” he points out. You snap your attention back to him. “And I just wanna say in advance that I don’t think i can give you the fun night you deserve, baby,” he apologizes, motioning towards his still swollen ankle.

Something distinctly mean switches on inside of you.

You flash him a sweet smile that has him letting down his guard. You lean forward, pressing a soft peck to his cheek as you climb down the bed towards your forgotten purse that’d been resting on the floor until that point. “Who said I needed you to have fun?” you throw over your shoulder, carefully slipping Doyeon’s first gift close to your body so he won’t see.

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed look. “Really,” he says dryly, “you think you can have fun without me?” He almost sounds cocky, as if the idea of you even enjoying yourself the teensiest bit without his help seems unfathomable.

You grin, padding over to his bedside, where you carefully pick up his hand. You mirror his actions from before, pressing a sweet kiss against his knuckles that makes that conceited look slip off his features for a second, eyes soft.

Click.

Jungkook frowns. “What the—“ before the sentence can leave his mouth you’re lunging forward, wrestling his hands above his head, until they’re both secured at his headboard by the soft cuffs Doyeon had given you that afternoon at the salon. Jungkook’s wide eyes stare back at you, briefly leaving to glance up at the silver chain that wraps behind one of the rungs of his headboard. “Babe,” he says slowly. “What the fuck.”

You beam at him, leaning down to snatch a pillow from beneath him so he’s better positioned, leaning back more. “So cute,” you gush, taking in the way his raised arms have the hem of his hoodie lifting at the waist. There’s a faint trail of hairs around his belly button that disappear beneath the elastic of his shorts. “Do you like them?”

Jungkook blinks. “Baby,” he says a second time, much slower and a little too calm for your liking. It almost gets swallowed by the roar of the fans on TV. “What is this?”

You ignore him, scampering around his room until you find the hot pink Sexuality Unleashed packaging peeking out from beneath his bed. Sure enough, it’s in Doyeon’s name but his address. A whole complicated mess just for some nipple clamps she’ll never see again. It’s what’s inside anyway, not that you thought Jungkook was lying, but there’s something about the actual, carefully wrapped packaging that makes your heart and pussy flutter.

“Oh! Aren’t these the prettiest things?” you exclaim, whirling around to where Jungkook is shaking up a storm with his cuffs, pout growing on his features the longer you leave him there. The ice pack slips off his ankle, falling onto the comforter beside him from all his movement.

Jungkook doesn’t seem the least bit interested in the silver nipple clamps in your hands, too busy trying to free himself from the sudden trap you sprung on him. “Sweetheart, we can play with those tomorrow, alright?” he tries, relaxing his arms and finally looking your way. There’s a frustrated furrow to his brows, one you rarely see but adore very much. “Just undo these cuffs for me, yeah?”

You tilt your head to the side, placing a hand on the inside of his calf that you trail all the way up as you move to stand beside his hip. His thighs flinch at your touch, tensing when you stop just before the crotch of his pants. “Mmm, don’t think so,” you smile, dropping the thin chain beside him.

Your shirt goes first, peeled over your body until you’re left standing in your bra. It’s nothing too special this time, just your average run of the mill comfort bra hugging your chest. But that doesn’t really matter, especially not with the way you’re hoping things play out tonight. You’d discarded your jeans a few moments prior, so the shirt joins them on a pile on his floor.

As much as he tries to act irritated by your refusal to release him, there’s a slow stirring beneath his shorts. It’s emphasized by that bright blue material, cock swelling as he watches you take off your clothes. “Baby,” he warns, possibly for the last time. But you won’t know unless you push some more, you tell yourself, placing one knee on the edge of the bed, the other thrown across his lap.

“Wow,” you marvel, picking the chain up once more. Jungkook shifts beneath you, half hard cock brushing against the cleft of your cheeks. “Don’t you wanna see what it’s like, Jungkookie?”

He says nothing, watching you with solemn eyes that leave no room for reading him. Behind you, the game commentator is chattering up a storm.

Doesn’t matter, especially not when this flimsy metal had you so completely hypnotized. You reach behind yourself, unsnapping your bra with one fluid motion that has the cups falling onto your lap, soft chest on display for the man before you. Your breasts spill out slowly from their cage, pretty hardened buds slowly coming into his view. They make him pause his fussing, half-lidded gaze falling to the swell of your chest hungrily. His hands jerk, the cuffs doing their job of keeping them there.

You grin, placing a hand on his chest, over his hammering heart. “Do you wanna see me wear them?” you croon, tugging the material of his hoodie up his stomach, until your thighs are sitting directly on his tiny waist, thin thong just over his belly button. You trail your hand up, letting it brush up the side of his neck and bury into his scalp. You give an experimental tug that has his eyes squeezing shut. “Yes or no, Jungkookie?”

He’s being a huge brat for you, eyes scrunched up together like the sight of you enjoying yourself sans his touch is unimaginable. Another tug of his hair and he’s exhaling shakily, a quiet, “yes,” slipping past his lips.

The chain drops onto his chest with a quiet thud, shocking him enough to blink his eyes back open. Releasing your hold on his hair, you sit back on his lap, towering over his fidgety body like a goddess at a temple, him the lowly worshipper beneath you.

Your hands crawl over your body, starting somewhere around your waist. The glide up over your tummy, caress the underside of your breasts teasingly. Sure Jungkook knew your body well, but you knew your body best. One hand rubs teasingly over your breast, palm pressing down slightly against where your nipple lies, while the other drops down between your thighs, slowly grinding against your mound.

“Look, Jungkookie,” you gasp, body twitching at your own hands. You take a hardened nub between your fingers, rolling it back and forth until it’s standing at its peak. “I can do it without you,” you tease, rolling your hips against him slowly. The thin material of your thong does nothing to save you from the delicious swell of his cock against you. “F-Fuck,” you whimper, circling a finger over your clit. “It’s, it’s even better.”

His restraints jiggle against the bed frame, an obvious look of distress crossing his features. “No,” he huffs out a whine, tugging at the cuffs as you slowly unravel on his lap. They don’t give, no matter how much he pulls. You know he’s holding back, afraid of damaging his headboard, and you take advantage of the fact as you move to roll both nipples between your fingers. He groans harshly, jaw tight. “Hate you,” he hisses, hips wiggling beneath you. “Hate you, hate you.”

You breathe out an airy chuckle. “R-Really?” you ask, trembling hands finally reaching back for that second gift of the day. Your breath is shallow, so thoroughly wound up from your own playful hands, and you tremble at the mere brush of the cool metal. “Oh fuck,” you whimper, bringing them up to your chest, “I’ve never done this before,” you confess.

There’s a sense of amazement that consumes you at the thin chain you hold in your hands, the pretty gold painted clamps on each end. It makes you shiver, body unconsciously grinding down against Jungkook’s lap where his engorged cock was fighting against the material of his shorts.

“Then let me help you,” he tries, the childish tone from before melting into his usual silky smooth baritone. Jungkook even softens his gaze at you, let’s his tongue peek out to wet his lips as you almost seriously consider his request.

Had it not been for the sudden loud shout from the sports commentator behind you, a long obnoxious gooooooaaal, you probably would have fallen victim to that honey-eyed gaze. You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills.

Without a second thought, you bring one of the little camps close to your chest, giving it a few experimental squeezes until the nerves are replaced with an overwhelming wave of horniness that even Jungkook can sense. “Fuck,” he groans, shaking his restraints back and forth like a wild animal as you slowly get to clamping your left nipple.

You’re not sure what you expected; part of you had thought it was going to be an excruciating pain, one that would make you want to scream and shout in sheer agony. The other part had reduced it to a barely there pinch that would never live up to your fantasies. As it stands, the sensation of the clamp around your swollen nipple sits right in between, drawing in a choked gasp that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Baby, sweetheart,” Jungkook gasps alongside you, eyes zeroed in on the pinched off bundle of nerves. There’s a sudden grinding sound that fills the air, like the sawing off of wood that definitely doesn’t sound good, and it’s a direct result of the fight he puts up against his headboard. “Please, please,” he begs, muscled arms tugging back and forth. “I have to touch—“

The second clamp goes on, making your entire back arch as if you were possessed. You're not, just extremely overwhelmed by the prickle of pain on your tits that makes you grind down against his cock, hands fisting the front of his hoodie like it’s the only thing grounding you right now. “Oh,” you shudder, thighs quivering at the heightened stimulation you receive from the clamps sitting on your nipples. “Kook, I-I can’t.”

He growls, hips bucking beneath you in a crazed effort to better situate you on his lap. “You gotta take these off me,” he rasps out. The next buck of his hips makes the chain dangling between your breast brush dangerously close to his face. He’s unintentionally goaded on by the TV in the room, the annoying drone of the commentator shouting something about never giving up. “Can make you feel so much better, sweet girl,” he cooes, jutting his head out like he needs a kiss.

Your head feels woozy, pussy throbbing at the sensations being channeled down into your core. Your eyes flutter shut, and before you can think it through, you're blindly reaching for the chain, giving it one light tug that has you mewling like a kitten. “O-oh, fuck,” you sob, looping your finger around the thin chain carefully. Another tug that pulls against your nipples sends a gush of wetness down between your thighs. “Cock,” you slur dazedly, “need your cock.”

Jungkook shudders out a long breath. “Le-Let me go then, sweetheart,” he chokes out, “let me fuck that pretty little pussy for you.”

“Uh uh,” you disagree, bringing another angry buck out of him, metal cuffs rattling loudly. “Want you to watch,” you pant, reaching behind you for his shorts. “Watch me, Jungkookie.” It takes three tries for you to get a grip, the elastic material slipping from your fingers before you finally gain some semblance of control and paw them down . The shorts and the boxers came off together, his engorged cock springing up to tap against your ass. “W-Watch,” you repeat dazedly, leaning forward with one hand on his shoulder to line him up with your dripping hole. Behind you, the commentator is droning on about core balance or something of the sort. It takes two tries as you blindly have to tug your panties to the side as well, and just as you have his fiery red tip against your entrance, something else happens.

He catches you, pearly teeth biting down on the chain that connects your clamps in a motion you can only liken to a bloodthirsty shark jumping out of the water, jaws snapping to catch its prey. It dangles in his face, the same way his own necklaces have done to you so many times before. But the difference between you and Jungkook was that while you let his assortment of necklaces hypnotize you, drag across your face painfully, he doesn’t. He snaps forward, catches it between his teeth.

You mewl loudly, foggy vision turning onto him. Jungkook’s got this unreadable look on his face, likes he’s pissed off and turned on all at once. “You’re not in charge,” he murmurs around the chain, the s and c sounds all slurred together. “You will never be in charge, silly girl, you got that?” he spits, yanking his head back like an animal, pulling your upper body with him by the two golden clamps on your nipples.

There’s tears in your eyes, lining your waterline and threatening to fall with each tug his mouth gives against the chain of your nipple clamps. He’s got his neck craned back as far as he possibly can with a pillow beneath him, chain links digging into his bottom lip. “Y-Yes,” you sob, your entire body quivering at the way he so easily manages to overthrow you, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, solemn eyes flickering across your twisted features once more. He gives another purposeful tug, head snapping back just the tiniest bit, but it’s enough to tug you forward again, a loud whimper torn from your throat. “Undo these cuffs for me, sweet girl,” he commands softly, jiggling the same restraints he’d spent the better part of fifteen minutes fighting against.

“Y-Yes,” you whimper, hands wildly slapping down on his bedside table. You had had half the mind to leave the key there when you had retrieved the cuffs, telling yourself it would be easy access afterwards. It’s not, apparently, the silver pick falling just out of reach. For some reason— it’s probably the sensitivity and horninesss, the pinpricks of pain that originate from your nipples —this fact frustrates you to the point of tears.

“Easy, doll,” Jungkook talks you through, voice low and soft beneath you, “relax and grab it for me, okay?” You nod, angrily blinking away a tear that drips down your face. It splatters on Jungkook’s cheek, bringing a soft huff of amusement from him.

Finally the key brushes your hand, and you sigh in relief, shakily leaning forward to undo the lock above his head. He releases his killer chomp/grip on your chain just as you release his cuffs. “I-I’m sorry,” you sniffle, a sudden need to apologize as you watch him rub at the raw skin around his wrists. “I didn’t—“

“Shhh,” he says, cuddling you into his chest. “It’s alright,” he says simply and you believe him.

Which ends up being a terrible mistake exactly ten seconds later when he’s shoving your face into the sheets, your cries and whimpers muffled by the sounds of the game on TV as he winds your arms behind your back. You struggle for all of five seconds before a soft click resounds from behind you.

“Did you think I’d just let that slide, sweet girl?” he growls against your ear, hot breath fanning across your skin. “I'm not your dog, __,” he spits, suddenly yanking you up by your cuffed wrists. Your chest is heaving, arms aching from the way he’s got you on your knees, blind to whatever he’s doing behind you. “Don’t lock me up, because I’ll always come back to bite.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you stammer, flinching when a hand snakes around your waist, an experimental tug to the chain of your clamps. It sends a shudder down your spine, amplified by the hot press of his body behind you. “I won’t do it again!”

“I know you fucking won’t,” he laughs meanly, trailing his hand down over your mound. One finger circles your clit through your underwear, a shaky sigh exiting your lips at the jarringly light touch. “Because I’m gonna fuck you until you’ve learned your lesson, silly girl.”

“I said sorry,” you whimper, thighs quivering. His cock brushes up against you, the same cock you were about to ride until the sunset. Oh how the tables have turned.

A hand slips beneath your underwear, pad of a finger rubbing against your swollen clit. “Oh,” you exhale, surprised with the suddenly gentle touch following his words. “Th-That’s nice,” you murmur, head lolling forward at the slow rhythm he sets, playing with you like you were a toy that needed warming up.

“Yeah?” he husks out. There’s a yank to your clamps that makes you gasp, chest following the motion as if it’ll reduce the shock. “You think this is about making you feel nice?” he murmurs. Another tug, followed by another, until he’s raining down a series of rhythmic shocks onto your tits that make you shiver and twitch, tongue heavy in your mouth to the point you feel like you’re drooling.

“Wait,” you whimper, arms twisting behind you. “Hurts, hurts” you cry, arching your back like it’ll save you from the steady stimulation against your rock-hard nipples.

“Does it?” Jungkook hums, one hand working away at your clit. He swirls it around his finger, pressing down on the nub in an attempt to distract you. But it only heightens the sting coming from your breasts, the blossom of pain that grows over each mound the longer he plays with you. “Good. Want your pretty little body to hurt for me, baby.”

Right after saying that he releases the grip on your chain, letting it swing back and forth until it eventually rests on your stomach, throbbing nipples spared for now. A breath of relief washes over you now that you only have to worry about the hand playing along your folds. The TV is still flickering to your right, but the commentator's voice sounds fuzzy and so far away, like he’s in a whole different dimension while you and Jungkook are here.

Your reprieve lasts shorter than you expected, as his free hand slowly begins creeping up your waist, fluttering over the little gold clamps pinching your nipples. “Pretty girl,” he compliments, nudging one tender nub with a playful finger. “Pretty, pretty baby,” Jungkook murmurs as he begins massaging the scorching hot skin around your nipples gently. There’s a warm kiss pressed to your shoulder, followed by a trail up the side of your neck. You shudder, trying to focus on the hand that creeps down your folds, teases itself against your entrance.

“Jungkook,” you whine softly, rolling your head to the side so he can suck bruise after bruise onto your skin. You’re definitely drooling, the saliva thick and heavy in your mouth. “T-Too much.”

“Thought you wanted that,” he mumbles, kissing up and up until he’s at your jaw and then he’s at your mouth, languidly kissing you. He’s doing that thing again where he’s hellbent on drowning you in his spit, and if you didn’t know better you’d think he was preparing you for something. “Wanted me to watch you bounce that tight little cunt on me while your tits were like this,” he says, punctuating his statement with a light slap against the side of one breast. It makes you jump, a moan catching in your throat.

The finger that had been playing meanly along your wet folds eases itself past your lips, plunges head first into the aching heat inside of you. He works it against your walls, thumb over your clit as he curls his finger inside of you. You moan loudly, shaking in your restraints. The hand over your chest squeezes, pushes the clamp deeper against your breast until your entire body is short-circuiting.

Your first orgasm comes over you with all the grace of a lightning bolt; it’s sudden and jerky, has every nerve ending wildly spasming as you whimper his name. “No more, no more,” you beg, head lolling back against his shoulder. He shows you no mercy, simply rubs furiously over your clit, until you’re jerking into his maniac hand.

When it’s over, he places a kiss against your jaw, curling his finger inside once more “Play with yourself,” he whispers.

“H-Huh?” you stutter, the rattle of your cuffs loud in both your ears, but not as loud as the breath you were trying to catch post-orgasm. You wonder if maybe he got ahead of himself again—he occasionally did that, thinking ahead to a point you hadn’t reached in your normal progression of sex —but suddenly he’s shoving you back down again, the finger that was slowly driving you insane rudely exiting your cunt.

You flop down against the mattress with a squeal, wiggling around like you actually had a chance of doing anything with him watching you like he is. You struggle for a few beats, every shift against the mattress rubbing harshly against your breasts until you nearly want to cry.

Just as you reach that point, he’s rolling you into your back, hands uncomfortably bent beneath you. It leaves you unwillingly arching to accommodate them, tits practically presented for him to see. “Pretty girl,” Jungkook groans, reaching down for the first time that day to touch himself.

His self restraint was truly unmatched, you realize, watching him squeeze the base of his cock. He runs a palm over his abdomen, up his chest. He drags the material of his hoodie along with it, eventually shucking it off somewhere to the side. His hair, so fluffy and soft, flops over his forehead, a few defined strands tickling his eyebrow.

The mere sight of him alone made you shiver, pussy clenching at the wet dream before you. He’s not an idiot either, obviously aware of what the sight of his body does to you, the tattoos littering his entire right arm that hypnotize you. The faint glow of the TV screen against his side makes him look like the cover star of every middle-aged wife’s erotic romance novel. He reaches said arm down, runs a hand along your thigh until you’re spreading them wide for him.

He doesn’t touch you like you want, only slides over your body until he’s toying with the chain of the nipple clamps that were slowly becoming the bane of your existence. “Open,” he says suddenly, and you do. Your mouth drops open, tongue stuck out slightly even if you don’t know why. He’s ingrained the response into you by now, made you into a desperate slut always ready for anything in your mouth.

This time it’s the stupid, stupid chain connecting your nipple clamps. He tugs it until it’s pulled up, the pull against your nipples making you whimper and writhe. The metal is cool when it touches your lips, but his fingertips are warm. “Good girl,” he praises once you bite down; even this sends a shock of nerves down your spine and to your pussy. “Just like that.”  

A muffled whimper escapes your lips, tears clouding your vision at the stimulation that was quickly overwhelming you again. Part of you thinks no more, please, I can’t. But the other has you spreading your legs for him, quivering pussy desperate to be filled.

The distress must be obvious in your face if the way Jungkook kisses your neck is any indication. He’s got one hand massaging against the underside of one breast, like he’s soothing the striking pain of your pinched nipples for you. If anything, it only strings you along more. “Stupid baby,” he chuckles meanly, a soft puff of laughter against your jaw, “thinking she could push me down.”

He leans back onto his knees, that same careful brush against the inside of your thigh bringing about an embarrassing whimper as he peels your thong away. “But you didn’t really want that, did you?” he eggs on, slowly shifting down against the bed, until his mouth is hovering over your exposed lower lips. His breath is warm, makes you yearn for him to be closer. “You like when I shove my cock into your little pussy, right? Like how it feels when I turn you into my little slut like this,” he sighs, pressing one chaste kiss against your thigh that makes you pull at the cuffs behind your back.

Soon, his mouth is on your clit, the same clit he had previously pampered with his hands but chooses to play with again. He licks an obscenely wet stripe from your throbbing hole to your clit, tongue curling devilishly towards the end. You whimper, though the sound is distorted around the chain in your mouth. Jungkook groans, dives mouth first into your cunt until he’s suffocating himself. His cute nose is pressed against your clit, and he takes advantage of the fact by taking one, dramatic sniff with his eyes rolled back. A soft moan escapes him.

“Fuck,” he shudders, “smell like heaven for me.” You moan at his sweet words, eyes squeezed shut as if that’ll stop the buckets of overwhelmed tears that you’ve been fighting off since the moment the clamps came on. “Wanna give you the world, angel,” he breathes, licking languidly against your folds, tongue occasionally peeking inside.

You mewl and writhe, every movement sending a tug of pain over your nipples. You want that gorgeous cock deep in your cunt, want to feel him in your womb, but you can’t voice any of this with the chain of the clamps between your lips.

Jungkook sits up suddenly, and you’re thinking yes, finally, before the look on his face has you screeching to a halt. There’s something distinctly different about him, a look you don’t think you’ve ever seen in bed before. Your thoughts are only confirmed when his foot slides onto the floor, as if he’s about to leave.

The panic must be evident on your face, because Jungkook is quick to swoop in and reassure you he’s not done with you yet. “Wanna fuck your little pussy,” he admits, carding a hand through your hair. “But the truth is I don’t think you deserve that just yet.”

With that he slinks off the bed, leaving you writhing in confusion as he heads off for the closet behind you. You can’t see what he’s doing, can only hear the shuffling of something back and forth. The TV is still on, the loud cheering of the fans muffling his clattering. You’re suddenly reminded of his swollen ankle, craning your neck to tell him to not overdo it, when something dark covers your eyes.

He’s standing just beside the edge of the bed, his signature teddy bear heat emanating off in waves so thick you could touch them. “Do you trust me?” he murmurs, voice close but not close to your ear.

Something swells in your chest, an emotion so intense your entire pelvis tightens up at the realization that Jungkook was asking for permission to blindfold you. You’re almost certain it’s one of his ties, a silky black thing that covers your vision for the most part, save for a little crack by where your nose juts out. A shuffle to your side, and then he’s gently prying the chain he had pushed past your lips earlier out. “Need an answer, ___,” he says quietly, almost nervously.

“Yes,” you gasp, your entire body set aflame at the sudden turn of events.

If you were being honest you would have never predicted your night would end like this. Maybe you came in a little too cocky, a little too optimistic for the night. It was supposed to be Jungkook handcuffed and powerless, you remind yourself— how on earth did you get here?

“Good girl,” he praises, giving you a little encouraging nudge to raise your head for him to actually tie the knot behind your head. It’s definitely one of his suit ties, you realize, because there’s a distinct cross-stitch pattern that you can feel only when it’s tightened against your skin, pressing against your fluttering eyelids. When he releases you, you’re suddenly all too aware of the sense he’s deprived you of.

“K-Kook?” you call out with a tremble in your voice. The rhythmic pattern of his footsteps rounds the bed again, and then there’s a soft touch against your leg.

“Right here, sweet girl,” he reassures you. The bed dips by your legs as he closes in on you, still tied up and on the verge of a second orgasm that he snatched away before your very eyes; not that you can see it anymore. His hand slides over your stomach, tugs playfully at the clamps. You moan, the sensation magnified tenfold by the fact you can’t see nor anticipate his actions now.

His hands glide like two sailing boats over the broad expanse of sea that is your body, molding against your curves like waves as they go. He hums appreciatively, and you find yourself glad you can’t see him. You can’t possibly imagine with what eyes he’s looking at you now.

You bask in the glory of his attention for another beat before he retracts his touch.

And then, suddenly, something distinctly not hand-like, and weirdly soft traces over the inside of your thighs. “Kook?” you ask tentatively.

No response.

It runs over your skin in the same way his hands just did, a unique shape your brain scrambles to put a name too. It’s soft, so soft. But cold to the touch. Inanimate for sure. It’s a toy, your brain supplies belatedly, but that much you already know.

It’s heart-shaped, you realize, just as it thwacks down against your pussy.

You shriek at the suddenness of it all, thighs clamping shut. Your heart is thundering at a pace of a rabbit’s, chest rising and falling as you blindly piece together what just happened.  “Kook?” you whimper a second time, head craning back and forth in a desperate attempt to track his next move.

He’s not touching you anymore, but the bed is still dipping by your feet, so you deduce he must be there. You test your theory by sliding your foot against the sheets, lower lip trembling at the idea of him not being there.

Jungkook catches your ankle with one warm palm, slightly calloused from years of weightlifting. He raises it up, the cold air of his room hitting your exposed pussy. “You liked it,” he says, not a question but an observation. Your pussy throbs, the phantom strike against it lingering. A kiss to your ankle.

“Wh-What is it?” you cry, unconsciously pressing your leg closer to him now that you have his location. (You don’t see the soft smile on his face at your action.) Ever so slowly you let your thighs open again, now anticipating the next touch of that thing— that riding crop, you realize.

Jungkook confirms. “It’s a riding crop,” he explains, excitement curling around his words. Suddenly, it returns, this time against your stomach. He doesn’t strike you like he did before, simply lets it run across your tummy. “Heart-shaped. It’s so pretty,” he sighs dreamily. “Reminds me of you.”

You nod anxiously, stomach muscles tensed the longer it stays there. Jungkook obviously sees this, lifting it to give you the lightest of taps that still manages to make you gasp. “Cute,” he laughs, trailing it back to where it first touched down.

“Oh,” you tremble, thighs twitching as it pats tenderly over your clit. “Wai-Wait,” you warn, body arching as he runs it down, down your swollen folds. “No,” you weep, going to close your legs. But Jungkook predicts your moves, pressing your thigh down harshly against the bed.

“Shh,” he soothes, tracing the heart down your folds, pressing it flat against you. There’s a distinct lining over it that makes your hips jump, a faux-velvet covering the tip that tickles your skin. “Sit still for me.”

“No!” you gasp. Your back arches, body betraying you as it pushes your pussy against the toy. “I can’t, I can’t, Kook,” you sob, lips contracting around the gaping nothingness in your hole.

He condemns your attitude with a harsh swat of the riding crop against your cunt, tearing another high-pitched squeal from your lips. It’s followed by another against your clit that makes your body spasm. “Bad,” he chides. “Supposed to be my perfect girl.”

“I c-can’t,” you whine, the darkness over your eyes making the sensations ten times more intense. You don’t know where he or the riding crop are if they’re not directly touching you. Even then, the image is fuzzy in your head. “Need you,” you pant.

You try to reach for him, try to pull him into your arms. But you’re reminded of the cuffs holding you back, the metal digging into your skin behind you. You sob at the realization, angrily shaking your hands back and forth like maybe acting like a tantrum-throwing child will save you. It doesn’t.

Instead there’s a tug at the chain resting on your stomach, one that makes you cry out in pain when it pulls at your terribly sensitive nipples again. Jungkook uses it to pull you close, just a small inch off the bed that has you gasping for breath nonetheless.

“N-No,” you wail, nipples throbbing from all the sensations you’ve put them through tonight.

A chaste peck against your trembling lips. “Tell me how it feels,” he purrs, nose brushing against yours. Even with the tie obstructing your vision, the latest version of your boyfriend burns itself into your eyelids, force feeding you his sweaty skin and damp hair until even his breath against your face is enough to bring you to the edge.

“I-It’s scary, Kook,” you sniffle, listening for any signs of a reaction. But even if he did show one, your breathing is too loud and the ESPN channel is still blaring on screen. “Scary,” you whimper, lunging forward in a desperate move to feel the familiar brush of his tongue against yours. You miss.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks carefully, like he’s afraid he’s pushed too far.

He has. But fuck, do you love it.

“No,” you wail, lips smushed somewhere along his cheek, near his jaw and not his mouth like you wanted to. “Feels good, feels so fucking amazing,” you babble, cut off halfway through by a hiccup from your sad cries. “Wanna cum, wanna cum for you like this.”

Jungkook chuckles in relief, tilting his head until you can catch his lips with yours. It’s probably an awkward angle you assume, him adjusting for your vision-less whims, but it feels so good. It sends a shock to your pussy, his plush lips against yours. Without him telling you, you’re opening your mouth for him. “Spit on me,” you beg pitifully.

Jungkook groans, and you can almost visualize the look on his face perfectly— the tensing of his jaw, the push of his Adam’s apple, the pucker of his lips. “God, you’re disgusting,” he sighs, a fat glob of spit hitting the back of your tongue. Without your vision, you don’t see it coming, recoiling with a whiny mewl. The thin trail of saliva that follows trails across your chin when he finally reels back. You swallow greedily, wondering how soon is too soon to ask him to do it again.

With your full permission to move forward, Jungkook wastes no time trailing the riding crop over your wet folds, collecting your oozing pre-cum on the tiny heart as he roves it over your cunt. “Fuck, you can probably cum like this too, can’t you?”

You can’t answer, too caught up in the featherlight brushes. Even if you wanted to say something, one sudden strike against your pussy renders you speechless. “Mmh!” you hiss, biting down on your lip.

“Come on,” Jungkook encourages, resting a hand on your thigh. He presses the crop against you again, pushes down until the flat apex of the heart where it meets the flexible stem of the toy is pressing against your cunt hotly. He grinds it down against you, takes a sick pleasure in the pathetic way you arch up into it, rut against the little heart like it can provide even half the pleasure his hands usually would. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

Your body is on fire, every nerve, every sensation shooting straight to your most erogenous areas— your cunt and your nipples. Talking seems like the farthest thing from your mind right now, too caught up in the way he roughly pushes the crop against your clit. A whimper rips itself from your throat, shuddering at the sensation. Unconsciously you jerk away from him, only to be scolded with another thwack against your quivering pussy lips. “A-Ahh,” you wail, squirming beneath him like a worm that can’t sit still. “Good— it feels good, Jungkookie,” you weep.

The soft mushy pet name has him raining down two snacks against you in quick succession. “No baby names,” he warns, frown evident in his voice.

Even with you completely under him like this, shackled and blinded with your love, something unmistakably childish and obnoxious curls around your throat, has you biting down on a grin as the coil in your stomach tightens. “D-Don’t like that, Jungkookie,” you choke out hoarsely, wildly bold for someone in your position. “D-Don't like being m-my baby?”

The crop loses its position over your folds, and for a minute you’re left anxiously anticipating its next touch. 

It’s on the side of your breast, harder than the rest, combining with the already powerful pinch of the clamps. It makes you cry out painfully, stomach tightening at what is probably the most unexpected orgasm you’ve ever had. It isn’t like your usual ones that overpower you and make cum trickle out between your folds.

No, it comes in waves— literally. Your pussy spasms, pushes one splurt of cum out between your thighs, almost likes your lower lips are spitting it out. And then again, more the second time, against his mattress. He pushes your legs up to your chest to marvel at the cum coating your lips and thighs. “You’re my baby, stupid,” he hisses. He grabs at your clamps then, twisting the little chain in his hand harshly. You sob at the yank, at the way your nipples feel two seconds away from being ripped off. But you can’t even complain, because the sudden touch has your pussy clenching, before a final trickle of cum oozes out of you.

Even still, your mind babbles on. “N-No,” you choke, shaking back and forth. Despite the tie covering your eyes, they flicker like a mad man beneath it, like you’ll somehow get lucky and develop Seeing Through Fabric Ability if you try hard enough. “My, my baby,” you fight weakly, pelvis trembling from aftershocks of that orgasm. “My idiot b-boy,” you smile dazedly, eyes rolling into the back of your head at the sting you’ve become familiar with by now. “T-Tell me, Jungkookie,” you croon, biting down on your lip to keep a moan from spilling out mid-syllable. “Still the same, r-right?” you stutter, “still think you’re better than me, don’t you?”

He scoffs. “No,” he vehemently denies, brashly landing an unexpected smack against your hip, no warning in sight. “That’s not true,” he defends. You can hear his pout, the little push of his lips when he grows defensive. 

You laugh, every bit the insane lunatic, fueled by your two orgasms and slipping sense of reality. “Ffffuck,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into nothing. “S-Say it again, baby,” you plead, tongue licking across your lips. “Tell me, tell me you don’t care about my problems, Kook-ah,” you whimper.

There’s a hesitant pause on his end, an unexpected lull in your play as he’s torn apart between doing what you want or playing it safe.

You know you’re confusing him, because you’re certainly confusing yourself. You don’t even bother trying to dissect your emotions— you’ve long since accepted your mind was a dangerous place when horny and presented with Jungkook’s sole attention. Well, you knew you were into the whole degradation bit, but this whole having-your-boyfriend-throw-the-words-that-made-you-question-your-entire-worth bit was certainly new and unexpected.

But there’s something in your heart (and in your libido) that needs this, needs him to fix this memory for you that maybe, kinda sorta, has haunted you for days, weeks now, as much as you hate to admit it. Needed him to fix the booboo he gave you with a bandaid, only leave a scar you could look back at and laugh off, not a gaping wound that opened at the slightest mention of it. Because while you forgave, you certainly never forgot*.

(*Unless forgetting meant having your boyfriend overwrite said memory that couldn’t be forgotten with the sheer power of his monster demon cock and wicked tongue. Only then could you forget.)

“Don’t be a fucking pussy, Jungkook,” you spit, feeling the hesitancy in the riding crop that brushes against your skin. It fades away quickly. “S-Say I’ve a dead-end office job; just holding you back,” you beg, trying to pretend the entirety of his little outburst hasn’t been ingrained into your mind for the last couple of weeks. Something flashes in your chest, throat closing off when the toy finally leaves your skin. “Tell me, tell me—“

He looms over you, teddy bear warmth covering the entirety of your body. “Is this what you want?” he asks seriously, lowly, breath fanning across your lips. Your makeshift blindfold feels distinctly damp over your eyes, chest heaving with an exertion that can only be emotional when he speaks so softly to you after routinely raining down brutal thwacks on you for the past half hour. “__,” he says sternly, “is this what you want?”

You gasp on a sob, unsure when these emotions had time to manifest outside your heart like this. You nod your head like a bobble head doll sitting on someone’s dashboard, lower lip trembling on a shameful cry that is not sex-induced like all the other ones until now. “I-I need this, Jungkook,” you admit, voice so tiny and soft, it almost gets drowned out by your shaky exhales and the crowd roaring on screen. “Need to overwrite it.”

He presses a soft kiss to your quivering lips, slow and so devastatingly loving. It’s nothing like the one from before where he’d spit down your throat per your request, and the unbridled adoration he packs into one simple kiss makes you crumble in his arms, sniffles piling on by the dozens.

He leans back after a moment, pulls your thigh over his forearm and finally lets you feel the hard ridges of his cock against your folds. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, trying to sound angry and annoyed, but there’s a lilting tone to his words, a love and trust you wouldn’t have been able to see with or without your blindfold, but can feel nonetheless. He pulls it off you anyway, the warm glow of the TV illuminating his face for you for the first time in about half an hour. Eyes soft, sweat trailing down his body. His body lines up against yours, but so does his heart. You feel it in the way he holds you in his arms, the way he’s careful about sinking into your folds. He slips an arm beneath your waist, uses it to hold you up so you’re not uncomfortably squishing your arms anymore. But if you ask, he’ll pretend he’s doing this for convenience sake only.

“T-Terrible fucking job,” he starts out, the stammer eluding the obvious discomfort he has saying those words, but he does it for you anyway. “Big fucking baby,” he tries again, slowly pushing past your tight walls with a shudder. “C-Can’t look away from you for two seconds because you’re such a fucking kid.”

“Worse,” you choke out. “Meaner. Please, Kook.”

He nods, holds your waist carefully when he finally bottoms out inside of you. “Dead-end office job,” he says, repeating the words that had made you want to crawl into a whole and never come out from. “Got some stupid fucking problems,” he tacks on, slowly withdrawing his hips from your heat. “Always complaining about the stupidest shit,” he hisses, fingers digging into your waist when it’s only the tip of his cock inside of you. “I don’t fucking care about it,” he seethes, forcefully snapping his hips into you.

They’re scrambled fragments of what he’d really said to you that night. Line after line that don’t carry a quarter of hurt or even make coherent sense for that matter. And still. 

You whimper, mind fuzzy from the thrusting pace he picks up, body fluttering at the glide of his cock against your walls. But your heart is thundering in your throat, his willingness to help fix this memory for you tightening around your every being until you can’t breathe. “I-I love you,” you cry, clenching down around him.

Jungkook groans, pulls you flush against his cock until the thin hairs around the base of his cock are tickling your skin. “Stupid, fucking child,” he groans, “immature ass nobody,” he grunts, bucking into you like your words don’t mean a thing.

“I am, I am,” you wail, suddenly hit with the cold hard truth that your body was desperately on edge. From the stimulation your nipples had gotten all night, to the ghost of the riding crop that lingered across your skin; your body was tired, so ready for a final orgasm that you’re certain Jungkook will provide. “T-Tell me y-you—“

“Shut up,” he barks, sweaty skin gliding against yours. “D-Don't tell me what to do,” he huffs, nailing you into the bed. He’s pushing you hard into the mattress, like he wants to brand you into it. “Need to fix this— alone.”

You nod numbly, the crowd behind him cheering loudly. It’s like they’re rooting for him— for the two of you —as silly as it sounds, and as bothersome as it would be any other day, today the obnoxious sounds of the ESPN soccer match only serve to fix a bad memory from before. It’s loud and cringey as all hell, but you’ll look back to this moment and laugh.

And that’s what you want most of all. You want that memory from before, that nasty fight, to go away, to disappear forever and be replaced with this one. Of him, pounding you into the sheets as his TV blares beside you, just another day, another round of sex filled with your usual kinks. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Ffffuck,” you whine when the tip of his hard cock prods against your cervix. He’s going deep, he’s going all out, because he wants to fix this too. Wants to do anything to make it right, and he’ll never know how much you appreciate him for it. “S-So deep,” you whimper, hips jumping when he rams back inside.

“Stupid slut,” Jungkook snarls, tucking his head against your neck the same way he always does. “Making me do stupid shit like this,” he bites, but you know he doesn’t mean it, know he never will again. He rocks his hips into you, no longer concerned with holding you up from uncomfortably laying on your cuffed arms anymore as he pistons into your squelching heat. He’s pressed so close over you, lips brushing against your collarbone with each snap of his hips.

All the pushing and jostling about has the chain of your clamps wildly jumping about, sprawling across the planes of your chest, above your breasts, where he snatches it up between his lips again. “Stupid, fucking—“ he slurs, jutting his head to the side like a wild stallion. You sob at the tenderness of your nipples, at the way he pays them no mercy as he continues rutting into you like a mad dog in heat. “Slut,” he spits. “S-So fuckin’ pretty.”

Your mind is in another universe, and when that last word, that devastatingly familiar term, slips from his lips mindlessly, something inside you snaps. “N-No,” you sob, legs fidgeting around his waist at the orgasm that wracks through your body against your will. “No,” you cry in frustration, “didn’t, didn’t want—“

“Stupid, stupid angel,” he babbles, seemingly unaware of your orgasm as he continues fucking into your leaking cunt, ignorant of the cum that dribbles out, creams his cock as he carries on. “Fuck,” he pants, gnaws against the chain of the stupid clamps like he can’t bare this any longer. “Love you,” he says, though he’s still stuck in that mindset from before and his sweet confession sounds more like a threat. “L-Love that childish side of you,” he confesses, finally dropping the chain— much to your relief —and surging forward to kiss you on the mouth. He tastes weirdly metallic, a thought you can’t ponder too long as he continues ramming himself past your clenched lips and into your pussy. “Your fffucking dr-drive to succeed,” he grunts, mouth smushed uncomfortably against your cheek.

“Kook, sweetheart,” you shudder, sensitive pussy spent as he drills on. His cock is still so achingly hard, and he doesn’t seem anywhere near completion. “Take it easy,” you gently remind him, can’t brush your fingers through his hair like you usually would, so you settle for pressing your lips to his cheek.

“Fuck, fuck,” he heaves, pushing so deep you practically feel him in your womb, swollen mushroom head begging for entry. “Give me it all,” he stammers, “want you—want this forever.”

“I know you do, baby,” you coo, nuzzling your nose against his when he sloppily surges forward, panting and gasping over you like a crazed caveman. “I’m yours,” you gently remind him.

“No,” he chokes out hoarsely, eyes screwed shut. “Need more, all of it,” he mumbles. “Give me yourself, ___, need you for the rest of my life—“ he cuts himself off with a shuddered whine, so airy and wispy it makes you shiver. “Ffffuck, shit,” he howls, each thrust into your walls only unraveling him more and more. “Give me, give me—“

“Anything,” you whimper, body trembling from his excessivity. “What do you want, Kook-ah?”

He says nothing, losing himself in the warmth of your pussy as his orgasm rounds the corner. He’s in the final stretch, the final straight until achieving nirvana alongside you at the finish line. And, as you’ve long since come to understand, a true Jungkook Danger Zone. He loses all sense of self, random syllables and phrases slipping through his lips.

“Fuck, fuck, marry me— marry me,” he moans, snapping his hips into you with a ferocious speed that has you bouncing against the sheets, and that’s despite the tight grip his has on you. “Let me— fuck— let me fuck a baby into you, sweetheart,” he purrs, eyes shining like an absolute psycho, but you’re apparently into that because the idea squeezes around your chest and burrows it’s way in. “A baby,” he marvels like an idiot, eyes big and sparkly, “f-fuck.”

“Wh-What?” you choke, flinching when he bites down against your lower lip. He’s got you trapped beneath him, stuffing your brain with these ideas that make your heart enter cardiac arrest, body tingling like in Mario Kart when you’ve got the star power up. “Kook—“

“Sh,” he groans, digging his fingers into your sides as he rolls his hips against you. “Almost,” he informs you, but the blood rushes to your ears. “Oh, fuck,” he pants, jaw clenching, “oh, baby.”

Jungkook cums with a shivered cry, body hunching over you like some entity has just exited out of his spine. Maybe something did, because afterwards he manages to hold himself above you for exactly three seconds before dropping the entirety of his hefty muscles onto you. “Ouch,” you whine, wrists twisted uncomfortably beneath you.

“Sorry,” he huffs, completely out of breath and dazed as he rolls away from you. He ends up spread out like a starfish beside you, completely fucked out and definitely zooming through the fifth, sixth, and seventh dimensions.

He doesn’t say anything for a hot minute, chest rising and falling like he’s just run a marathon, until you butt in. “Kook. Undo me,” you remind him.

He looks over at you, dark hair falling over his eyes and sprawling around his head like a halo. Oh, he was going to be the death of you. “Oh,” he says, like his brain has just processed the information. “Right.” He sits up, tucking himself back into the shorts he never fully took off. That was his character flaw; never bothers to get completely naked during sex. Anyway, his straight male-equivalent of booty shorts come up around his thighs again, stretching sinfully across the thick muscles.

The five sonnet poem that was gearing up in your head comes to a halt when he touches your breast. “No, no more,” you cry, instinctively withering away.

Jungkook snorts. “I’m just taking them off, baby,” he says, reaching forward again with the same practiced ease you’d use on an animal. The clamps come off, all the nerves suddenly coming back to life. It’s a weird sensation, not having your tits subject to that prickling pain anymore, and it makes you moan softly. Jungkook soothes you with his wannabe masseuse hands, but you think it’s just an excuse for him to fondle your breasts.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks gently, hovering over you like a damned surgeon or something. His voice is so silky and smooth, hands soft against your chest. He’s so careful in the way he turns you over, somehow magically producing the tiny key pick you swore was lost between the sheets after its first use.

Being on your chest makes you tremble like a leaf, the faintest brush of the cotton against your tits enough to make your pussy clench weakly. “ I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, carefully detailing his actions like you’re not watching him with your very own eyes. But it’s oddly comforting, having him walk you through the process of rolling your sore wrists. The inside of the cuffs had a plush lining, but it was a pretty cheap thing. After he’s done massaging the skin, he pads over to his dresser and returns with a shirt and undies for you. “Shirt,” he says, helping you into the clothing.

When you’re all snuggled under the sheets again, the television still loud as hell, he mumbles, “wanna talk about it?”

You exhale against his chest, feeling so light and fluttery from your orgasms and the way he runs his fingers through your scalp and the way his heart thunders by your ear. “Hm,” you hum pensively. “Nah. Think I’m fine now,” you admit.

Jungkook chuckles. “A full miracle recovery?” he teases. You nod, taking in the comforting scent of his fabric softener and just him in his entirety.

“Yep.” A beat of silence, the commentator is back to filling the space between you two. He talks about a mile minute, spewing stats and plays you could never understand in a thousand years. But you know Jungkook will get sucked in soon enough, so you strike while the pot is hot. “Do you wanna talk?”

He cranes his neck a little to look at you. “What do you mean?”

You roll your eyes, pushing yourself up to look at him straight on. “Oh, my mistake,” you drawl. “I seem to have missed the part where we were going to act like you didn’t just ask for my hand in marriage and then offered to get me pregnant—,” you pause, the realization suddenly hitting you like a trash can whipping down a hill on a rainy day at a thousand miles per hour. “Pregnant!” you exclaim, cheeks warm at the fact he really just said that to you.

Jungkook’s cheeks fare no better, a Flaming Hot Cheeto shade dusting his skin. “I, it was just…” he tries, poor tiny monkey brain working overtime to offer an excuse. “It-it doesn’t have to be a thing,” he blushes, big Bambi eyes flickering from you to the television to the heart-tipped riding crop by the foot of the bed. “I was just…”

You raise your brows. “Consumed by the spirit of King Henry IV to have fourteen kids?”

He blinks. “Wait, you actually paid attention to that film?”

“That’s not the point!” you exclaim, shifting onto your knees in front of him. “What,” you inhale sharply, heart beating wildly in your chest, “what was that?”

Jungkook can only play the shocked angel card for so long before he’s sinking back into his pillow stack with the sigh of a man who’s worked in construction for the last sixty-four years. “I just,” he mumbles, “I think about it sometimes.” His admission makes your heart lodge itself into your throat, wide eyes watching him spill out his heart to you.

He misreads the expression on your face. “I-Not now!” he hurries to explain. “Like,” he stammers, rosy hue slowly crawling down his neck, over his ears. “Maybe, y’know? In the future…”

You blink, brain reduced to a series of beeps and clicks like that of an old computer trying to compute information that is simply not processing. “Yeah…” you murmur, unsure of what to do with the film reel that suddenly flashes before your eyes, a look into a doorway you had never considered before. “I— me too.”

Jungkook chokes on his own saliva. “Really?” he yelps, has those sparkly anime girl eyes you always tease him about.

The gulp you do sounds loud in your ears. “Yeah,” you breathe, throat drier than the desert, but more confident than the first peabrain response. “I-I’d like that.”

There’s a bright beam of light that shines right in your face, so vibrant and dazzling it makes you flinch and by the time you’ve recovered you realize it’s his smile. “Yeah?” Jungkook mumbles back, pearly teeth framed by his pretty smile, brows raised at your stuttery confirmation. You nod. His lips twist into a smaller grin, a condensed version of the superstar one he gave you just moments before. Before you can brush it off with a joke, he’s snatching your hand up in his, a soft smooch pressed to your knuckles. “Okay,” he says quietly, dark eyes meeting yours. “One day?”

Your heart constricts in your chest, and all you can do is nod. “One da—“

“Goooooaaaaallllll!” the announcer on screen shrieks, the loud sounds of the TV killing your mood instantly.

Any dumbstruck, love struck, idiotic, ditzy expression on your face is wiped clean, replaced with an unimpressed glare you narrow on him. His nose is scrunched up like he wants to laugh, lips pressed into a thin line at your annoyance. He swipes the TV remote off the side table, arms spread open for you to crawl back into. You do so with a huff, pout smushed against the front of his hoodie.

“That’s enough ESPN for today,” he chuckles, switching the channel about a thousand times until Rick and Morty is playing on screen. “I’ll just watch the highlights later.”

“ESPN,” you scoff like an evil villain in a movie who’s just been presented with their mortal enemy, fisting the front of his hoodie.

Jungkook nods. “ESPN,” he repeats. A beat passes. “Kinda like BDS—“

“Go get your ice pack.”

epilogue

Because Jungkook couldn’t sit still for that one eventful night following his ladder injury, he ends up in a medical boot for one week, loudly clunking around the place like a reverse pirate. You snap a picture of him that you post on Twitter for your twelve followers to see, just him pouting at the doctor’s office with his new boot and club jersey on to celebrate last night’s victory.

It’s just a cute pic for you and your friends to laugh at.

Until it’s not, and his handsome face is circulating around the entire internet.

He’s being called the Face of FC Seoul, with desperate women messaging you left and right for his information. Other fans are bragging about the beauty that is an FC Seoul fanboy. It gets to the point where his face appears on the next night’s ESPN Nightly Recap, a special on social media stars posting about the game. Except Jungkook is neither a social media star nor did he even post about the game— you did.

But there he is, all five feet and ten inches of him smiling brightly at you from the ESPN Sports channel, wearing the boot he got from hand cuffing and whipping you to completion. 

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[floraltypes]

Distraction

leroy jethro gibbs x reader

fluff, drinking, mentions of sex, death,

based on earlier seasons

AN: ahh my first NCIS little drabble! requests are open so request something!

The moon was shining into the windows of the dimly lit bar. It defiantly wasn’t the nicest one you’d ever been in, but when a old friend insisted on bringing you, you gave in.

She had been babbling to you, for days, about the man who owns it and how they are sleeping around with each other. She continued to then beg for you to come and check it out, then maybe bring some of your coworkers so the guy she liked so much could have more customers.

“Come on Y/n!” Your friend, Elise, whined. She sat up from her position on the couch in your apartment, and locked her fingers around your wrist to get you to stand. “Let’s go! It’s a good place! Popular! Fun! Drinks are cheap,” She was very cheery and trying her hardest to convince you as well.

“Not now,” You groaned, trying to use your weight to stay on the couch. “Brandon is coming over and I had plans to have a nice dinner with him,” You told her, the girl giving up.

Brandon was your current boyfriend, for about two months. Both of you were always incredibly busy with your jobs, him a FBI agent, you a NCIS special agent. So, it made it very difficult to truly see each other and have fun.

✶ ✧ ✶ ✧ ✶ ✧ ✶ ✧ ✶ ✧ ✶ ✧ ✶ ✧ ✶ ✧

He was helping with the investigation due to the victim of the crime (at the time) being a old navy friend of his. They were going to meet up and try to regain a old friendship before the man was murdered. But Brandon decided to stay a bit and try to help with the case, to find his friends murderer, and to talk to you a bit more.

“A shame to see him go. Wish I’d have see him sooner,” Brandon admitted, rubbing his eyes a little while staring at the body bag.

“I’m sorry for your loss Agent Jordon,” You put a arm on his shoulder and he looked down at you with a small smile. “Trust us, we’ll find him,” You tried to reassure him.

“Thank you Agent L/n,” He nodded, turning fully around to face you now, while they lifted up the body bag to carry it into the van. “I would hope it will be okay if I join you with finding him,” He looked towards you for a answer.

“Oh! Well, uh, I-”

“Talk to your supervisor,” Gibbs interrupted, throwing a camera into your hand. “We still need to hear about your alibi. L/n, get to work on those photos. Todd!” He called out to the other female agent who was walking over with DiNozzo.

“Yeah, Gibbs,” She walked over, fixing the hat that was covering a bit too much of her face than she wanted.

The park was empty, they had found the body slumped up next to a tree with a cup of coffee in hand, which was going to be tested by the lovely Abby, along with everything else he had on him.

“You and DiNozzo go ahead and check out the areas around here, take another camera,” He commanded Todd and DiNozzo, who soon left. “L/n, pictures,” He snapped, now standing right next to you. You quickly nodded and left to go do the job by taking some more pictures of where the body formally was.

“Sir, I hope you’ll let me join you on this investigation. I was at my office, up until I got news of his murder, you can check with coworkers of mine and even my boss,” Brandon told Gibbs, hands now in his pockets and pulling out the FBI badge.

“I know what you are,” Gibbs sneered, motioning for him to put it away. “We don’t need FBI for this, it’s our job,”

“Just for a extra eye, nothing more, I just want to know I did all I could do to get justice for my friend,”

“Come on Gibbs,” You piped up, walking over with the camera in hand and zippering up your jacket with the other. “A extra hand, another person to boss around, and that person being a FBI agent. It kinda sounds like something you might want,” You joked, slowly lowering your voice as his intimidating gaze was put on you. “Or not?”

“I obviously don’t boss you around enough that you feel the need to bother me instead of doing your job,”

“I took the photos!” You lifted up the camera and pulled up a photo of something you found near the body. “Looks like boot marks on the grass, they were bigger and I measured, bigger than our victim. That can help narrow down the search, they were also heavier boots, something someone who’s in the navy might wear,” You handed him the camera and walked to stand across from him, next to Brandon.

“You’re good,” Brandon complimented, smiling down at you.

“Than-”

“It’s the bare minimum, let’s go,” Gibbs, once again, interrupted, and the three of you started walking to his car. “Y/n, up front with me,” He commanded and you quickly jumped in the seat.

“So, can I help?” Brandon asked after there were a few minutes of silence.

“As long as you don’t get in our way,”

Once you made it back to the iconic building, you were excited to show Brandon around a bit, DiNozzo and Todd already doing some research based on some things they found.

“Oh! The autopsy is where Ducky is working at the moment. You have to go and see down there, but Ducky is a talker, so be warned. Sometimes I go down there, on paperwork days, to learn more about anatomy,” You informed the Agent who was happily listening besides you.

“L/n, you are at work, during your work hours, where you get payed to do work. Also known as working on the case, not giving tours, he can figure it out himself,” Gibbs commented, dropping off a couple of files at your desk. You let out a little groan, and apologetic smile to Brandon and walked back to your desk. “Figure out his closest friends, got it, people he was closely working next to,”

“Yes sir,” You plopped yourself down and started to open a file when another chair was soon pulled up.

“Boss is in a extra bad mood today, huh?” DiNozzo laughed, grabbing one of the files near you.

“Big surprise,” You rolled your eyes, flipping to the next page.

“I’ve got a feeling he doesn’t like little FBI agent,”

“Well of course not, he is a FBI agent after all,”

“I’m thinking for another reason,” DiNozzo sent you one last smirk before rolling his chair back to the desk next to you.

“What’s tha-”

“Need help?” Brandon wondered, pulling up a extra chair and grabbing a file. The two of you chatted while going through it. Gibbs down checking in with Abby and then Ducky to see what more they could find out.

Soon, you were all able to find out who exactly killed the victim, leaving to go to the home the man was with another navy agent. You and Brandon took the front of the house, Gibbs and Dinozzo taking the back entrance of the farm house and land, going to check where some animals were located. Todd and Mcgee then headed to a shed that was also present on the land.

You looked back at Brandon, who nodded at you, signaling it was okay to open the door, and you turned the knob. Walking into the entrance and started to sweep the area with your gun in front of you. Brandon motioned you over to a door where he was hearing noises and soon swung it open.

“Liam Han! Put the gun down!” You yelled at him, then pressing your ear piece and letting the rest of the team know you had found the man. You watched the life drain out of the mans face, the first beam of sweat truly drip down, the way his eyes widened every so slightly, and his gun quickly moving to be aimed at Brandon.

You soon shot the mans arm while he shot Brandons leg, other agents soon rushing in and putting Liam into handcuffs and helping the petty officer, who was kidnapped, out of his seat.

“Agent Jordon,” You got on your knees besides him, looking at the wound which seemed to hit a bit below his knee. “Don’t worry medics are on their way, um, are you okay?”

“I might be FBI, but I tend to due more paperwork than field work,” He laughed a little, clutching the wounded leg.

“Why wouldn’t you inform us of that?” Gibbs asked him, same tone in his voice like always.

“It’s not like I’m never on the field, I know what to do,” He didn’t look at Gibbs at all just looking at you. “But hey, maybe this little wound will make it more convincing for you to let me take you out on a date,” He smiled widely, despite his bloody leg.

“Uh.” You looked at him in disbelief and Gibbs rolled his eyes.

“Might as well call of the medics,” Gibbs commented, moving towards the door.

“Wait! No! I still need them!” Brandon called out after.

“That’s something I’m gonna have to try,” DiNozzo mentioned.

“Yeah, ‘cause it would be real charming if you did it,” Todd added.

“Sure,” You told him, laughing a bit while the medics came in to truly address his leg.

✶ ✧ ✶ ✧ ✶ ✧ ✶ ✧ ✶ ✧ ✶ ✧ ✶ ✧ ✶ ✧

Two more dates, after the first one, he soon asked you to be his girlfriend and the two of you have been going strong for two months!

“I’m in town, please, do this one thing for me!” Elise continued to beg.

“And I never see Brandon,” You fired back. “I’ll think about it, but your flight is tomorrow, so you better go spend the last of that time with your boy toy and I’ll email you,” She quickly nodded and grabbed her stuff, saying a quick goodbye.

A few hours later Brandon arrived to your apartment, yet, not so thrilled to see you. He had a stressed look on his features and no bags in his hand, just a frown and a envelope.

“Brandon?” You got up from the couch you’d been waiting on for the past two hours and slowly walked over to him. “What’s wrong?”

“I think we should break up,” His eyes connected with yours, tears littering the edge of his eyes.

“Wha-why?”

“I need to focus on my work, I’ve always wanted to be a unit chief and in order to gain that goal, I need to do better at my job, and that means cutting off any distractions,” He explained, placing the envelope on your kitchen counter.

“Distractions?”

“I don’t mean for it to come off in a rude way, but this is just the best for me, and now you can even focus on your work more and how to deal with a insane boss,” He lightly laughed, slowly walking to you a patting your shoulder. “I hope to see you soon,” He turned back to the door and left like he was never there.

✶ ✧ ✶ ✧ ✶ ✧ ✶ ✧ ✶ ✧ ✶ ✧ ✶ ✧ ✶ ✧

That’s how you found yourself in the crappy bar. Elise sure talked it up enough to make it sound decent, but in all reality is was one of the worse you’ve ever been too. But the drinks were kind of good and cheap, so staying a little longer didn’t seem so bad.

Later, when you indulged in a few more weeks, you realized it would be best to head back, yet Elise was off having fun with her boy and you came here with her, in her car.

“DiNozzo,” You spoke into the phone, coughing a bit afterwards. “Pick me up,”

“You’re drunk?” He asked into the phone. “Weird, I’ve only seen that a few times. Not pretty,” He laughed. “Would love to, we’ll not really, but I’m with this smoking hot blonde and she wants to do it in the shower, later,” He hung up, leaving you to dial another friend.

“Y/n?” Caitlins voiced echoed through the phone. “What’s up?”

“I’m drunk, and want to sleep, pick me up Cait, please?”

“I’m out with my family, maybe ask Abby?”

“At some weird rock concert,” You groaned. “I’m not even a crazy drunk, or that drunk, but I don’t feel comfortable driving and I just want to sleep,” You complained.

“I’ve got to go, good luck,” Caitlin then hung up, leaving you to let your forehead fall onto the bar counter.

“Ugh, I guess I have no choice,” You groaned, again, and dialed a number you were dreading to call.

“L/n? It’s late, what is it?”

“Gibbs, I need to call in a favor,” You quietly voiced into the phone.

“What’s this, favor?”

“Can you pick me up,”

“You sound twelve,”

“I can’t drive and everyone’s busy, come on, for me?”

“Tch, I was finally making some real progress on my boat, but now I have to go and save a dumb drunk coworker of mine,” He grumbled underneath his breath, which was still able to be heard through the phone. “Tell me the address,”

You soon told him and hung up. Paying the money you owed the bartender and getting your purse all ready for when the grey-haired man would show up.

“This place is a dump,” A familiar voice muttered, stepping through the door. “What the hell?”

“Gibbs!” You shot up and tumbled your way towards him. “I absolutely hate this place, and fuck-”

“Woah,” He caught your body which just about fell onto him. “You sure can talk normally but not walk normally,” He noted, swinging one of your arms to fall onto his shoulders and his to snake around your waist.

Since the place was about deserted it was easy to get a parking spot in the front and guide you to the car. Once Gibbs opened the passenger door you flopped down, and Gibbs leaned over to buckle your seatbelt, your eyes closed.

“Fell asleep, already, damn, I don’t know where you live,” He mumbled, getting into the drivers seat and pulling out of the nasty bar.

“Gibbs,” You whispered, stirring around in the chair and moving one of your hands to reach for his thigh, though his full attention was already on you, the red beaming onto your features.

“Y/n,” He spoke again, ignoring the hand that was rested on his more lower thigh. “I’m taking you to my place, I have a extra bedroom so it shouldn’t be a problem. And if it is, I don’t care because you’re the one who decided to get drunk,”

“Mmk,” You hummed. “Gibbs,”

“Yes?” He moved his attention back to the road, the color changing.

“You’re my favorite agent,” You laughed a little after, now the true side affects of when you were sleepy and drank too much, kicking in.

“Thanks, I guess,”

“Am I yours?”

“Sure,”

“Good,” You closed your eyes again, letting a grin take over your features. “Gibbs,”

“Yes,” He said with a bit more irritation this time.

“I miss Brandon,”

“Weren’t you supposed to see him tonight?”

“He broke up with me, said I was a distraction. So he needs to cut me off and focus now. Am I a distraction to you?”

“Yeah,” He chuckled a little at the droppy tone of your words and the funny memories of you flashing through his mind at the question. “But sometimes distractions are a good thing. Like distracting you from the troubles that just can’t be fixed at the moment, that’s what you do for me, so it isn’t a horrible thing,”

“Ah,”

“Brandon was a idiot anyway,”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause he was FBI,”

“Yeah, that’s true, but,” Gibbs stopped for a moment, thinking about the words he was about to mutter, contemplating if he was willing to take the risk or not. “He’s also a idiot for getting rid of a distraction like you,”

“You mean that? Gibbs I-” You stopped your sentence after feeling a pair of lips being pushed up against your own. You opened you eyes wide to look at the man who had connected his with yours. “Gibbs what about rule-”

“Who cares, I made the rules, therefore I can break them,” He smirked, grabbing the hand in his lap. “Let’s head to my house and get you to bed and some medicine in your stomach for the hangover you’re going to have tomorrow,”

“Oh, okay,”

“After I finish up on my boat,”

[jobean12-blog]

The Professor Is In

Pairing: Loki x reader

Word Count: 1,073

Summary: You’re a Med student in NYC and you meet someone unexpected. 

Author’s Note: This is for the HBC’s @the-th-horniest-book-club Long Distance Love Weekend and the prompt Professor AU. I got a lovely request for some Professor Loki and this was such a perfect time for it! Hope you like it! Thank you all so very much for reading! Much love always! ❤❤❤ Divider by the lovely @imerdwarf

Warnings: some light flirting and fun, lots of fluff :) 

The library is surprisingly quiet as you make your way through the rows of chairs and to your favorite table by the window. Your arms are laden with three large textbooks and your laptop and you can’t see your feet below you so when your toe catches on one of the chairs you don’t even have a chance to save yourself from falling.

Thankfully, an arm wraps around your waist and you’re pulled against something warm and hard. You grab onto his jacket and look up into the most beautiful green eyes, swirling with something akin to mischief.

“Thank you!” you breathe out. “I didn’t see that chair! Or you!” you laugh, quickly letting go of the bunched-up fabric between your fists.

You quickly look down, inwardly cringing when you realized you’ve wrinkled his jacket.

“I’m sorry about your…” you start.

“Don’t be silly darling. It’s not a concern at all,” he assures you before you can finish. “Are you alright?”

Long fingers tuck under your chin and lift your gaze. He raises a brow as he waits for your answer. Your mouth opens and closes until you finally blurt out, “I’m fine! Thanks to you of course!”

He smiles and for a moment you feel breathless, your hand reaching out to grab the edge of the table.

“Thank you again,” you mutter, gathering your things before turning on your heel and disappearing behind the tall bookshelves.

When you’re sure he’s out of sight you lean against the rows of bindings, the smell of old leather and dust lingering in the air. You let out an audible breath, leaning your head back and trying to shake the imagine of those eyes out of your mind.

It doesn’t work and when you finally make it safely to your favorite table and start to study you can’t concentrate. With a frustrated sigh you close your book and heave everything into your arms, meandering through the tables and chairs carefully and out the doors of the library.

Your feet carry you to your second favorite spot, the small coffee shop on the corner where you order something that will hopefully pull you out of your daze.

“Ah, so we meet again. Luckily, this time you’ve managed to stay upright!”

At the sound of his deep and smooth voice you spin around and come face to face with the same green eyes that are still lingering in your thoughts.

“Oh!” you say surprised, “right! Yes, that is good. Not as many chairs,” you joke, motioning to the tables in the shop.

He winks and turns to order his drink. You take that as your cue to leave but before you get very far strong but gentle fingers close around your arm.

“Would you like to have coffee with me?” he asks, his eyes bright.

Without thinking you reply with a quiet “yes,” and wait until he pays so you can find a seat. He escorts you to a small table by the window and pulls your chair out. You sit with a thump still feeling a bit enamored under his green-eyed gaze.

“I suppose now would be a good time to introduce myself,” he says, reaching out to take your hand. “Loki,” he murmurs then softly kisses your knuckles.

You can feel the heat rush over your skin and you bite your lip, smiling shyly while introducing yourself. The next hour goes by in easy conversation and some very serious flirting on Loki’s part. By the time he’s holding the shop door open and you walk out into the afternoon sun, your skin is already hot.

“I have somewhere to be darling but it was a pleasure sitting with you. I hope we can do it again soon.”

You watch him walk off, the white napkin you wrote your number on still visible between his fingers as he turns the corner.

Realizing you only have a half an hour before your Anatomy class you rush back to your apartment and get what you need before racing through campus and making it to the double doors of the lecture hall with only a minute to spare.

You push them open and inwardly groan when you see the only available seats are in the front row. Your books hit the desk with a loud bang and you sit, slumping down and wishing you were still at the coffee shop with Loki.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end and you lift your eyes to the doorway as the man crowding your thoughts walks in. His gaze immediately finds you and he smiles, giving you a small nod before addressing the class.

You’re look of shock does nothing to deter him as he starts the lecture. He holds your attention for the entire hour and a half and you feel even more energized than when you walked in. He dismisses everyone but takes a few long strides in your direction as you’re packing your things.

“Hello darling. I was hoping you would be in my Anatomy section,” he confesses.

You give him a slightly confused look but smile in understanding when he continues.

“When we met in the library earlier I saw your textbook,” he explains. “There are three other sections but it seems like this is my lucky day.”

“I didn’t know you were a professor,” you murmur, deflating at the thought that you probably shouldn’t be seeing him anymore.

“Well, I’m really just helping out the University for the time being. Nothing is quite official,” he simpers, that familiar light of mischief dancing in his eyes.

You find yourself once again giving in to him.

“In that case…” you trail off, wondering if asking him to dinner would be too forward.

“In that case, I would love to take you to dinner tonight,” he says with a wink.

You giggle and throw your bag over your shoulder.

“I would love that Loki.”

He holds out his arm and you nestle your hand in the crook of his elbow, walking out of the hall and into the fading sun.

“What a beautiful evening,” he whispers. “I know this lovely spot that has outdoor seating in the back garden. How about I pick you up at 7?”

“That sounds perfect!” you exclaim, squeezing his arm.

“Wonderful my sweet,” he sings. “Now, let me walk you back to your apartment before I leave you to get ready.”

@book-dragon-13 @eurynome827​ @hiddles-rose​ @jewels2876​ @loricameback @lookiamtrying​ @marvelgirl7​ @nano--raptor​ @randomfandompenguin​ @starlightcrystalline​ @white-wolf1940​

[monster-bait]

Hi, I see lots of people asking about stories of yours that you've taken down for publishing and it made me wonder. Do you have a place where people can read synopsis (plural??) of upcoming books/books that have been taken down? I saw the teaser for Sweet Berries at the end of your Farm book, but I don't know the one coming in 2022 I don't think and I wanna get hyped! (Have read Sweet Berries stories, but the book is gonna be bomb)

I don't have a synopsis landing page, but my website is about to get an overhaul, so that might be changing!

In the meantime, here's the tentative order of things:

Parties, GW book 2- Several months after a weekend girls' trip, suburban elves Lurielle, Ris, and Silva are still affected by their experiences at the resort and the orcs they met there.

Lurielle discovers that being in a multi-species relationship has its challenges: meeting Khash's family, introducing him to hers, and facing the harsh realities that lie ahead if they stay together. A lifetime together or a lifetime apart - she must decide if she can bear the heartache the future holds.

When Ris returns to the resort on a whim, an unexpected encounter with a slightly familiar face upends this elf's desire to be a free as the wind. Ainsley is simultaneously everything and nothing that she's looking for - smart and sexy and completely unattached . . . but how long can they "keep things casual?"

Silva struggles to juggle the expectations of her family and seeing Tate in secret until she becomes tangled in her web of lies, necessitating a choice - following the carefully mapped life of privilege her family has planned for her in their Elvish community . . . or throwing it all away to follow her heart, for a man with his own heart full of secrets.

Parties is a multi-POV story, following all three girls through a succession of soirees, each one winding their separate story lines - and the work friends - tighter together.

Sweet Berries - Grace has a job she loves, a community she adores, and plenty of friends . . . but her lack of bedroom action has left this event planner too horny to think. When one ill-advised night at the bar leads to her giving an exhibitionistic show to an unknown presence outside her bedroom window, she thinks she’d hit a new low. When her voyeur turns out to be a nebbishly charming mothman, Grace needs to decide if she can trust her body — and her heart — with this garnet-eyed stranger before he flys out of her life for good.

Sweet Berries is a monster/human romance novella featuring high heat and a lot of heart, with a guaranteed HEA. It is the second book in the Cambric Creek Romance series, and can be read as a standalone. CWs: human/nonhuman romance, nonhuman anatomy, size difference, exhibitionism

Pride - Don’t ever go into the forest alone, gorza, there are strangers there who will take you away.

She had grown up in the shadow of the forest, with the story of the boy who’d disappeared into its black confines having been passed down in her clan for generations. She never imagined the story’s subject might be real.

Nineteen, rebellious, and queer; trapped in a marriage she never wanted, Elshona wishes that she too could disappear from her life, never to be seen again. When she meets a sharp-toothed stranger in a pub, whose past bears more than just a passing resemblance to the tale she’s known all her life, she does the one thing she was taught not to do: follows him into the night, out the door and away from her family and all she knows, all the way across the sea.

Pride is a Girls Weekend side-story about Tate and Elshona: how they meet, their shared connection, and the pain of not being accepted and leaving home behind. It's a story of queer acceptance, chosen family, and the ties that bind us, for better or worse. CW: ALL the emotions

Moon Blooded Breeding Clinic - Returning to Cambric Creek is the last thing Lowell Hemming wants to do, but when his career as a photographer is put on hold, he’s not left with much of a choice. Suffocating under the weight of the Hemming family name and the confines of his small hometown, the monthly full moon is the only time he doesn’t feel trapped. When an intriguing flyer requesting healthy male werewolves catches his eye, he finds himself calling Moon Blooded Breeding Clinic, signing up as a donor for their catalog.

From the outside, recently divorced Moriah has everything - except the one thing she wants: a child of her own. Desperation pushes her to contact a very unconventional clinic with an unparalleled success rate . . . all she needs to do is align her reproductive cycle to the full moon and pick a werewolf from a catalog with whom to mate.

Moon Blooded Breeding Clinic will feature a high heat slow burn that examines real-world issues through the unique lens of Cambric Creek. CW: knotting, breeding, werewolf/human relationship.

Changes, GW book 3 - hahahaha, nope. Not yet!

Wheel of the Year - Ousted from her coven, hurting for clients, and struggling to keep her aging family home, socially awkward witch Ladybug is at the end of her rope. When she rents the attic bedroom to a silent, unsmiling drider, she thinks her life might be on the right track to improve; when she lets him into her bed, it will never be the same.

Wheel of the Year is a series of short vignettes, centered around the witch's sabbaths. CW: arachnophobia, spider anatomy, biological aphrodisiac, HUGE size difference, non-human/human romance.

Beneath the Linden Trees 1 - In a time of war and kings, the orcs of clan Duh’lar have secured the mountains for their own, and if adopting the customs of men is the only way to keep it, they will do what they must. Peace and prosperity follow, but when war comes to the Easterlands, the Lord of Linden Hall must decide if the orcs will honor their treaties.

Beneath the Linden Trees follows tree orcs and the women they love, and how the decisions of one affects the lives of the others:

Aurelie is a well-bred human Lady from the Easterlands, promised in marriage to the youngest son of the orc lord, sent away from her father's keep to her new home at Linden Hall. To her shock, her betrothed is warm and kind, well-spoken and indulgent . . . but after several weeks in residence in her new home, she has still not laid eyes on Tilianus, the orc she is to marry.

Lisette and Gelgrah, a witch destined for the stake and the orc who rescues her, have built their home at the base of the mountain, far from Linden Hall. When war comes to the mountains, Lisette realizes their little family is at risk of being torn apart.

Eh'lazar is an acolyte at the temple of the moon, learning the ancients arts from the high priestess, Eonar, before he is cast out for dabbling in darker magics. Hardening his heart, he cultivates a reputation as a powerful necromancer, capable of raising an army of the dead . . . but when war comes to the mountains, he must choose between cementing his power and the elf he once loved.

Beneath the Linden Trees will be a three-part series (for now) that should be read as a series. CW: typical period-era violence, human/non-human romance, size differences

Rosemary & Time - She had always known the way through the wood, until the day the wood changed.

When Thorn follows a light into the forest, the world she thought she knew falls away. Memories and lives already lived shift and dance in her head, obliterating reality and leaving her at the mercy of the fae to whom she is forever bound. Jack of the lanterns is the last person she ought to trust, but as she is thrust into the world of the high courts, he is all she has.

Surviving the treacherous Court of Autumn's capricious Queen and her deadly consort are only the start of Thorn's journey through the wood, and she must decide if she is willing to play their game forever . . . or free herself from her captor, the man she has loved for several lifetimes.

Rosemary & Time is a topsy-turvy journey through the world of the fae, where magic and memory weave a confusing tapestry, and where nothing is ever what it seems. It is a standalone story, but is connected to Girls Weekend, and recommended for the richest reading if both worlds. CW: it's the fae, baby. All the content warnings.

Reunions, GW book 4 - I promised happy endings for all my babies, and after a lot of suffering, this is the book in which they finally get it.

That's what I have planned for now!

[iamwhoami]

Sister Oh Sister (Grey’s Anatomy)

Grey’s Anatomy

   When Amelia has brain surgery to remove her tumor, her sister Y/N is with her the entire time, worried that she might lose her.

Warnings: None

Requested = Yes

Haha...finally got one done...

It’s been a while since I’ve seen the episode where Amelia gets her tumor removed so the facts might be a lil iffy.

You were the first person she told.

   When she paged you to the scan room, you definitely were not expecting this bombshell.

“Oh...Amelia...” You whispered and immediately pulled her into your arms.

“It’s okay...” Amelia said, almost as if she was trying to convince herself to, “It’s benign.”

   You choked back a sob at those words. It was a relief of course, but it was a tumor nonetheless and would definitely have to be removed.

That meant brain surgery.

   Over the next while, you were constantly at Amelia’s side. Yes, it was partially because you knew you had to be there for her, but in a way, you were also there because you were scared.

Scared that history might repeat itself.

   The few months before Derek died, you hadn’t really been around him much. Now looking back, you regretted not visiting him, Meredith and the kids more. You regretted now inviting them over for dinner more. 

You didn’t want to have those regrets with Amelia.

   Despite all your fear and worries though, you did you best to hide it from Amelia, putting a brave face on instead.

   The day of Amelia’s surgery, you had worked yourself up so much that you spent the first half hour of the day throwing up in the bathroom at home.

   You knew you were worried about her, but there really weren’t any words that would truly describe just how great that worry was.

   Pulling yourself together though, you forced yourself to eat some breakfast before heading to the hospital. It was a surprise that Meredith had even managed to get you to go home since you spent all your time at the hospital since Amelia was checked in.

   Parking your car, you killed the engine and was going to walk in when you realized that you couldn’t. You were so overwhelmed by everything that you just needed one moment by yourself so that you could break down without Amelia knowing.

   You didn’t realize how much you had been holding back until you finally let it all out. You were sobbing so hard, you didn’t even hear the first few knocks on the window to your car.

   Sniffling, you wiped your nose with the side of your hand before taking a deep breath and getting out of the car.

“You good?”

   You looked over at Meredith, debating what you should tell her. Should you lie even though you knew she would see right through it?

“I will be,” You whispered, “But that doesn’t really matter right now.”

“Of course it matters,” Meredith responded, “Y/N, you’ve been driving yourself insane with worry about Amelia and I know you have your reasons but how would Amelia react if she knew what you’ve been doing?”

“What am I doing?” You asked numbly as you and Meredith headed into the building.

   Meredith grabbed your arm, making you stop, “You’re not taking care of yourself Y/N. Your running yourself to the ground, you’re not eating, you’re not sleeping.”

“It’s going to be okay,” You whispered back, biting your lip as you felt the tears threaten to spill from your eyes again, “Right? She’s going to be okay.”

“Oh...Y/N,” Meredith reached out her other arm and pulled you into a hug.

   You choked back a sob, “She has to be okay Mer because I swear I can’t do it again. Not after Derek...”

“I know,” Meredith mumbled and put her hand on the back of your head, rubbing it up and down.

   With that, you nodded and Meredith looped her arm through yours before making your way up to Amelia’s room.

“I’ll go through the a sub frontal craniotomy, real clean, small incision,” Tom was saying as you and Meredith arrived.

   Amelia saw you and gave you a weak smile which you just barely were able to return.

“So I imagine you have questions,” Tom looked at everyone expectantly.

“Yeah uh...how many of these have you done?” Dr. Bailey pointed her finger at Tom.

   Tom shook his head slightly, “So...so many.”

“What’s the recovery time?” Richard added.

   You tried to listen. You tried to pay attention, stay engaged, but your mind just kept wandering, going through each of the possible scenarios. 

“See you at the afterparty,” Tom was saying when you zoned back in and without another word he walked out of the room.

“He’s arrogant and a showboat so DeLuca, make sure you ask him questions during surgery,” Amelia ordered, “Make him show off.”

   DeLuca nodded in response and you knew that he would do that.

“And if I make it through,” Amelia started to say but Owen cut her off.

“When you make it through,” He corrected.

“Early ambulation protocol,” DeLuca finished and Amelia thanked him.

   Amelia then turned to Meredith, “Meredith...if I die.”

“You are not going to die,” Meredith said.

“But if I do,” Amelia went on, “You call my mom...I’m sorry but she likes you.”

“True that,” You snorted, knowing fully that Amelia was very correct on that.

   Amelia then looked over at Maggie, “And you...take my room! I totally scammed you on that.”

“Don’t be ridiculous-” Maggie started to say but Alex cut in.

“She’s right on that, it’s way better,” Alex mumbled to Maggie.

“If I’m gorked after this,” Amelia took a deep breath, “Unplug me. Don’t think about it. Go on with your lives. If I need unplugging, April has been named my power of attorney.”

   At those words, everyone, including you, slowly looked over at April who had a very awkward expression on her face.

“What...was I supposed to say no?”

“I uh...I don’t know what’s me and what’s tumor talking,” Amelia looked you straight in the eyes before continuing, “But uh...in this moment, I love you people tremendously.”

~~~

   You were sitting in between Meredith and Maggie, watching through the gallery at the scene below. Amelia standing...leading the superhero pose.

   You watched as Amelia got onto the table and as she was preparing to lay down, she gave you a wave.

   Forcing a smile, you waved back.

~~~

   The entire time Amelia was in surgery, it felt like you were underwater. Not drowning, but just underwater. The sounds around you were fuzzy and even though you could see perfectly well, your eyes stung as if salt was irritating them. You were subconsciously holding your breath too, breathing only when Maggie or Meredith reminded you to.

   When the surgery ended, you were slightly relieved but now you were tasked with one of the hardest things.

Waiting.

   You refused to leave Amelia’s side, even though she was still unconscious. Meredith and Maggie tried to get you to leave for food, but you brushed them off, only leaving to use the bathroom.

   You talked a lot to Amelia while you waited for her to wake up, knowing that she couldn’t hear you. It brought you some sort of comfort though, speaking to her as if she were awake.

“I know you’d tell me that I’m being stupid,” You laughed, holding Amelia’s hand in yours, watching her face carefully for any signs that she might be waking up.

   You smiled painfully, “But I can’t leave you Amy...not after what happened with Derek. You can’t leave me...because I really need you Amy. Even though I’ve been annoying and you’ve been a pain in my ass at times, I love you so much more than I’ve ever told you.”

   You reached your hand out and gently stroked your sister’s face.

“Please Amy...” You swallowed hard, “Please don’t leave me.”

~~~

   Needless to say, when Amy woke up speaking French, you thought you were going to have a heart attack. When Meredith explained what was going on though...you quickly understood and calmed down.

A little bit.

   It was hard watching Amelia be in pain while she recovered from brain surgery but you always put on a brave face and made sure to be there beside her every step of the way.

   It took a while, and since you were with Amelia every day it was hard to see the tiny steps of progress, but you did. It felt like forever, but you knew it wasn’t, before Amelia was finally allowed to be discharged and head home.

“I’ll put the bags in the car first,” Owen said and looked over at you

   You smiled and Owen gave you a knowing look before walking out of the room, a few bags in his hand.

“You look like crap,” Amelia joked as you rubbed your bloodshot eyes.

“Right back at you,” You mumbled back but Amelia could tell it didn’t have your usual spunk.

“What’s wrong?” Amelia asked, clearly concerned.

   You shook your head, “It’s stupid...”

“Oh come on Y/N,” Amelia said, “It’s me, you know you can tell me anything.”

   You sighed and shook your head again but you didn’t stay quiet this time and told Amelia what was bothering you.

“It’s just...especially after Derek,” You felt yourself start to choke up and quickly swallowed hard, “I couldn’t lose you. I was so scared I would lose you too Amelia.”

   Amelia’s gaze softened as she realized what you meant.

“Come here...” Amelia whispered and opened her arms so that you could lean into her embrace, “It’s okay...I’m okay now. You’re not going to lose me.”

   You nodded and closed your eyes, “I know...but it was just hard...”

“I don’t even know how hard that must have been for you,” Amelia said and you felt her sigh, “But you know...you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

   You couldn’t help but shake your head at your sister’s attempts of trying to make a joke.

“I know, you’re like a barnacle,” You went along with Amelia’s attempts.

“Seriously though,” Amelia whispered, “I’m always going to be with you no matter what.”

   You nodded, “I know...I love you Amelia.”

“Love you too.”

[someonestolemyshoes]

Yo, saw your post about levihan prompts:

How about Hange discovering Levi’s secret hobby (of your choice)

Feel free to do whatever you feel like

And I love your work! 💕 have a good day

Hello! So sorry for the delay in this one, but thank you so much for your patience 🙏 I got stuck for such a long time in the middle of this ksksks but it is finally done! I also played around a little bit with the whole...discovering a secret aspect, but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway! And I hope you're ready for some sweet sweet childhood friends levihan~

**

Levi likes photography.

This, in itself, is no great secret. Hange can barely remember a time he wasn't following after her with a camera strapped around his neck, or packed into his bag—always within reach, should something striking catch his eye. A little neon plastic toy, at first; each click of the shutter cycled through preloaded images, expert shots of famous landscapes, places they could only dream of seeing. And then, a polaroid—still a toy, in essence, still plastic, still gaudy, but this one took real pictures in real time, and spit them out into their eager, shaking fingers within seconds.

Hange remembers them ruthlessly wafting the little laminate squares and watching with bated breath as black mottled into foggy grey, as the blurred silhouette of the park bench faded slowly into being. It was a fascinating thing, at the time. Magic at their fingertips. The picture turned out fuzzy and overexposed in places, where the sun had glared in over the corner of the park bench, but Levi had settled the little square on his little palms and looked at it like he held the whole world in his hands.

There were innumerable disposable cameras, too. Light little things with reels of film, never enough for Levi's insatiable desire to snap pictures of every single thing he saw. They spent half their childhood in the chemist, sitting in the hard plastic chairs, wriggling anxiously as they waited for the film to develop. Kuchel always handed them the envelope, fat with prints, with a small smile curling the corner of her mouth and a fond twinkle in her eye, and Levi always took it politely, while Hange gave a boisterous thanks, and the pair of them delved greedily into their spoils.

He was older, in his early teens, when he was gifted his first real camera. It was heavy, compared to all the others, a case made of metal with buttons and gadgets and a fancy screen on the back, to preview each picture he took. Levi was wholly enamoured with it. He spent hours adjusting it, figuring out what each button and knob did, how they affected each picture; took countless shots of the same rock in the park until he'd tested every combination of settings he could think of.

He had cycled through more cameras since then. Grown a small collection, each one a little different, a little more suited to particular shots. Hange understood the concept in theory, but the particulars were lost on her, and Levi never took the time to explain. Not that she minded—Levi's pictures were beautiful, breathtaking in the way he could capture even the most mundane details and make them something wondrous. Perhaps for the first and only time in her life, Hange had no desire for the magician to reveal his tricks.

He has an eye for things that Hange simply cannot see. She is observant—to a fault, at times, intensely analytical and endlessly curious. Everything is a question, an opportunity to research, to learn, but she doesn't see the way Levi does.

Wild daffodil. Narcissus pseudonarcissus. Hange sees a perennial flowering plant, native to Western Europe, classified by its pale yellow petals and elongated central trumpet. She sees phylogeny with a rich taxonomic history; subspecies originating all over the globe, some larger, some smaller, some more vibrant and some more muted. She sees anatomy, science.

Levi sees the way the evening sun rusts the buttery petals until they blush; sees the way dew drops hang like pearls from the tips of the leaves in the early morning, when the light is still smoky and thin. He sees a moment to be captured.

It should be impossible for a picture to hold so much detail. Hange can look at Levi's daffodil and feel the way the spring wind blows gently on her skin, the sun warm but the breeze a little biting, a remnant of the fading winter. She can smell the pollen heavy in the air, feel the tickle of short grass on her ankles, hear the trill of songbirds in the branches of distant trees.

His proclivity for photography grows with them. Hange's interests spear out in a thousand different directions, from physics and chemistry to botany, to engineering, to literature and mathematics, to history, languages and landscapes—life is a limitless source of information and Hange chases it every which way, insatiable.

And wherever she goes, Levi dutifully follows, with his camera in hand.

Until now.

Now, they are eighteen. The summer is lazily drawing to a close, and tomorrow, at 8:45am, Hange will be boarding a plane that will take her to the other side of the world to attend the university of her dreams.

And Levi will be staying here.

Despite Levi's perpetual scowling and indiscriminate grunting, their last evening together had overall been a pleasant one. Levi and Kuchel had worked hard on their meal, and it had been nice in a warm, filling kind of way, to spend her last night at home with the two of them.

Now, she and Levi are holed up in his bedroom, while Kuchel had insisted on doing the clean up herself. Hange's mind has been churning non-stop for weeks now, ramping up with each passing day, and tonight, her thoughts are unstoppable, and they spill from her with giddy, jittery excitement.

"The university is huge, but my course is pretty small—only like, 30 places. It'll be easy to get to know everybody."

"Nn."

"And did I tell you? There's a museum right on campus? They've got a huge collection, and I heard students can access it after the first semester."

"Hm."

"And there's a flower garden, too—they've got species from all over the world, Levi. They'll have plants I've never even heard of."

"You said."

"Oh! And—my accommodation isn't all that far from the coast. The water looks beautiful in all the pictures I've seen—look, see?"

"I know. You showed me already."

Hange looks up from her phone, where the screen is lit with a bright, sunny beach, tan sand and a stark blue ocean. Levi flicks his gaze over it and offers a noncommittal shrug of his shoulder. Hange frowns at him.

"You could at least pretend to be excited, you know."

Levi gives her a deadpan stare.

"It looks...warm."

Hange sits back with a thump, and kicks weakly at Levi's shin. She pouts over at him. "Better than nothing, I guess."

They sit at opposite ends of the window bench in Levi's bedroom, legs tangled haphazardly together in the space between them. The window was thrown open in some vain hope of tempting in a breeze, but the air is thick, and the soft wind that does blow is still stiflingly warm. It sways Levi's fringe against his brow, but does little to stave off the oppressive heat.

The sky outside is dark, but it is alive with stars. They cast bright sparks on an inky black canvas, and there is no moon in sight. Already, Levi has snapped pictures of it, twisted dials and pushed buttons and switched lenses until he was satisfied.

It is a beautiful sight. Infinite.

Hange lets one leg dangle out the open window. Levi gives her a sour look and wordlessly closes one hand around her other ankle. She has a long history of behaving carelessly—Levi has borne witness to one too many slips and stumbles to trust her entirely. It would be just like Hange, to miss her flight in favour of a trip to the emergency room.

His thumb strokes back and forth absently. There is a callus there, rough and catching, that scratches against her sensitive skin.

Her predominant feeling is one of excitement. Studying abroad had been a dream of hers for almost as long as Levi had owned a camera—to travel beyond the bounds of their small rural town, to see more, learn more, fuel the relentless hunger in her. But there is an undercurrent of something else, some squirming discomfort that refuses to settle. It intensifies with every sweep of Levi's thumb against her skin until it sits heavy in her gut.

She looks over at him. His gaze is trained out the window, a small frown furrowing the skin between his brows, but his eyes are glassy, with none of their usual sharp, unwavering focus. Whatever he is looking at, he is not really seeing it.

It would be a lie to say that his silence had not troubled her. He had been quiet throughout dinner, opting instead to listen to Hange and Kuchel's companionable chatter as he pushed his food around his plate, and he had barely said a word since they had cleared the table and retreated to his room. He had hardly even looked her way.

Irritation bubbles within her. Levi is always more subdued than she is, content to sit quietly while Hange babbles endlessly, about anything and everything. But he usually has something to say. His silence, today of all days, makes her angry. They have one night left like this—one more night to talk, face to face, before they will be separated for who knows how long, and Levi is offering her nothing.

"Levi," she says, before she can think. Something in her tone must startle him, for he blinks rapidly, as though pulled out of a daydream, and rolls his eyes to look in her direction. His gaze settles somewhere near her shoulder. She bristles. "Can you at least—"

"Levi?" Kuchel's voice is distant, floating up from the bottom of the stairs. Levi looks at the door instead. "Can you come give me a hand for a minute?"

Hange clamps her jaw shut. Levi casts her another sidelong glance, and ticks his tongue against the back of his teeth. He squeezes her ankle once, then pushes himself to his feet. "Don't fall, idiot. I won't be long."

Hange feels distinctly like a child on the verge of throwing a tantrum. It's immature, and perhaps it's unfair of her, but she had assumed that Levi's invitation for dinner might, at the very least, come with a little conversation.

She takes a deep, steadying breath. They never fight, not really—they bicker endlessly, poke each other's cheeks and pull each other's hair, childish rough housing that they never grew out of. But they don't fight and as grumpy as Hange feels about Levi's near silence, she doesn't want to start now. She runs a hand back through her hair and sweeps her eyes about the room, counting long, even breaths as she does.

Levi's room is immaculately neat and tidy. Everything has its place, on clean, dusted shelves, or stacked in straight, neat piles atop his desk. It is a level of organisation Hange has little energy for; she herself is a hurricane, picking up and dropping off detritus everywhere she goes.

But Levi's borderline obsessive cleanliness makes it easy to spot something that is out of place.

Hange's gaze falls on a drawer in the desk.  The drawer itself is as immaculate as everything else, gleaming wood and a reflectively polished brass handle. What catches her eye is the corner of a glossy piece of paper, caught when the drawer had been closed.

Hange is a curious creature. Rarely can she hold herself back from exploring an unknown, and now is no different. She unfolds herself from the bench and stretches to stand, then crosses the room on light, tip-toed feet.

Levi is, by and large, a rather private person. He does not share much of himself openly, hides behind an impassive mask, guards what is dear to him close to his chest. Hange is an exception to this rule, whether Levi wanted her to be or not.

As such, she has no real issue prying the drawer open, and is unsurprised by the predictable contents within.

Photographs.

Of course it was photographs.

Her lips tug up in a fond smile and her eyes roll, but it is as she is reaching in to flatten out the rumpled picture that had been poking out of the drawer, that she notices what they are photographs of.

Her.

Hange picks out a stack and sits cross-legged in the desk chair. She flips through them, eyes growing wider with each new picture she uncovers. Every single one is of her. Some recent, some not so recent—some must be from the very first real camera, for she is still in her braces, all thin, gangly limbs and scruffy hair and taped up glasses.

There are pictures of her in the winter, mitten-clad hands wrapped around a paper cup of hot chocolate, blowing steam into the chill air. She can see in stark clarity, the red tip of her nose and the chill bitten over her cheeks; she can almost feel the cold, taste the cocoa on her tongue.

She finds a picture of her from an autumn years gone by. She remembers it as though it were yesterday—they had spent the whole afternoon raking fallen leaves in the courtyard behind Kuchel's cafe, scooping them into a terribly tempting mound beneath the shedding tree. Hange had been unable to resist. Levi had captured her moments after her dive into the pile, sitting up with her weight propped back on her hands, dry leaves clinging to her messy hair and sticking to the fibres of her cardigan. The sun was low, and it cast her in a golden glow, highlighting the vibrant red and orange of the fall foliage around her, drawing out the auburn undertone in her hair and the amber of her eyes. Her smile is almost blinding.

Another shows her in the spring, laying on her belly in the long grass beside a row of blooming daffodils. There is a book spread open before her and she is, as expected, engrossed in it; Levi has snapped the shutter as she was turning the page, the thin edge of the paper caught between the delicate tips of her fingers.

Hange has never considered herself to be particularly pretty. She is just...Hange, a little bit of wild, a little bit of manic, a lot of clumsy and dirty. Being attractive has never been of much concern.

But there is something in the way Levi has photographed her, time and time again, in the way the light catches her, the candid ease of each new picture, that looks....beautiful, in its own way. Somehow, he has made her mess into a masterpiece.

Levi likes taking pictures of things. Plants, rocks, rivers, landscapes and skylines—he likes capturing the mundanity of everyday life and turning it into something spectacular, but he has never done the same thing with people. As far as Hange was aware, Levi had taken very few pictures of anybody at all.

And yet, she holds this pile in her hands, and there are plenty more pictures littering the drawer before her.

There is a strange feeling brewing on her as she stares at them. She had been so excited about moving away to study, so eager to explore the world beyond their quiet countryside home, that the reality of leaving had never truly sunk in. She feels it now though, acutely; a hollow ache in her chest that grows with each picture she flicks through.

Levi has been her shadow for as long as she can remember. There are few memories that he is not a part of, few moments that she can recall in which Levi was not by her side—he has been a constant for her. Something certain and dependable.

And from tomorrow, he will no longer be there.

Hange had known this. She had known it from the moment she had accepted her offer, and she had known it as they looked through her options for accommodation together, as they explored the local area through pictures and videos and maps online. She had known it as they had prepared her visa, organised her finances. Booked her flights. Every step of the way she had understood, logically, rationally, that studying abroad meant leaving Levi behind.

But the weight of it is only hitting her now. The reality of it is like a slap in the face, a punch in the gut—it leaves her shaken and breathless in the worst way.

From tomorrow, Levi won't be with her at all.

Her grip tightens on the photographs hard enough to wrinkle the glossy paper.

She had done a pretty good job of not getting too emotional about the whole thing. For the most part, Hange had been overwhelmed by her own excitement—there had been no time for sadness between all the loose ends she’d had to tie up in order to make the move a possibility. Now though, all that is left is to head to the airport and board her plane. No more distractions.

Hange doesn’t realise she is crying until the bedroom door opens again, and Levi steps into the room, coming to a sudden halt halfway over the threshold.

Hange can't tell if Levi's look of shock is because of the open drawer and the pictures still clutched in her hands, or the tear tracks on her cheeks. He stops dead in the open doorway, fingers still curled around the handle, and for a moment he stares at her with eyes wider than Hange has ever seen them, but then his brow dips low and his lip curls, and his grip tightens around the door handle. Hange holds the pile of photographs close to her chest.

She is expecting anger. She doesn't suppose she could blame him if he lost his temper with her, then. She has a terrible habit of bulldozing into everything, after all, and perhaps this was the one thing Levi had longed to keep secret from her. Her snooping, on top of his already sullen mood—perhaps this is the final straw.

But instead, he turns his face away, staring resolutely into the corner of the room. Starlight spills through the open window. Even in the thin, muted light, Hange can see a vibrant flush colouring the skin high on Levi's cheeks.

Hange sniffles, and wipes clumsily at her cheeks.

"I didn't have you pegged as a closet pervert, Levi," she says, waving the handful of pictures at him. Her voice comes cracked, and weaker than she'd hoped. Levi's knuckles turn white.

It's a funny thing, seeing Levi embarrassed. His emotional expression is usually limited to small twitches, here and there—a slight furrow of his brow, a wrinkle of his nose, a soft twitch of his lip. Hange can count on one hand the number of times she has seen his feelings show so completely. It's almost painful to witness.

"I don't mind," she says. Levi doesn't look at her. Hange looks down at the pile again. "They're nice."

Levi finally releases his death grip on the handle and pushes the door closed. His eyes are still downcast and his cheek is still cherry red, but he hasn't run away and he hasn't snapped at her (yet). Hange takes these things as good signs.

"I didn't know you took pictures of people," Hange says.

"I don't."

"Are you saying I'm not people, Levi?"

Levi lets out a disgruntled sigh. He crosses the room, and plucks the pile of pictures from Hange's hands. His cheeks are still pink, and his brows are still furrowed, but he has composed himself some.

“No, you’re not,” he says. “You’re a creature. You’ve got snot all over your face.”

Hange laughs wetly, wiping her nose with the back of her hand and rubbing the mess on her pants. Levi gives her a look of pure disgust, parking his hip against the edge of the desk beside her and skimming through a few of the pictures. There’s a curious expression on his face, a softness in his eyes that Hange isn’t used to seeing.

“Stalker,” she says. Levi kicks at the desk chair without looking up. “If you wanted a photoshoot, you could have asked.”

Levi scowls. He straightens the edges of the pictures with care, and sets them carefully on the desk. “If I wanted to take pictures of you posing, I would have asked.”

“Wanted to capture me in all my natural glory, huh?” Hange braces her elbows on the desk and rests her chin in both hands, grinning cheekily up at Levi. It must look ridiculous, with her watery eyes and the red point of her nose, but Levi isn't even looking at her to notice.

Levi says nothing. His gaze lingers on the pictures for a little longer, and the colour in his cheeks deepens. Hange nudges him with her elbow, smiling. The pictures are...sweet, in a way. There's something flattering about it. She slumps back in the chair, her smile wavering where a fresh wave of melancholy tugs at the edges of her lips.

“I’ll miss you, you know.” Hange’s voice cracks humiliatingly as she speaks. Levi looks over at her. Hange curses the wobble of her bottom lip and wipes at her eyes beneath her glasses. She isn’t expecting much; Levi is terrible at expressing feelings at the best of times, and so it’s more than surprising when, after a moment of consideration, he nods at her.

“Same.”

Fresh tears spill down her cheeks. Hange presses her fingers into her eyes, trying to stem the flow, ease the sting there. She doesn’t want to spend their last evening together crying, but now that the tears have begun, Hange can’t seem to stop them. A lump builds in her throat, aching beneath her tongue and she can feel her chin wobbling, lips pulling down at the corners. She sniffles pitifully, draws a shuddering breath.

“Oi…” Levi says, though he doesn’t sound angry, or even uncomfortable like she had expected. His tone is gentle. It rips a sob from her.

Hange feels him move closer. He jostles the front of the chair, and when she opens her eyes to look at him she finds him standing right in front of her, between chair and desk, looking at her with a furrowed brow. It’s different to his usual scowl—his brows are a little upturned in the middle, exposing some kinder emotion; something like worry, or concern.

Hange tilts forward until her forehead presses into his chest. Levi’s hand comes up quickly to the back of her head. His touch is familiar, comforting, and Hange cries a little harder when his fingers tunnel into her messy hair, cradling her against him.

She cries until she feels spent, sniffling and gulping empty air. Her fingers twist into the hem of Levi’s shirt as she composes herself, mumbling, “you’ll keep in touch, right? You won’t forget about me?”

Levi clicks his tongue at her. “Stupid,” he says. “As if you’d let me.”

“I’m serious.” She sits back and looks up at her. Her eyes are burning, raw and wet, and the skin of her cheeks stings from crying, but she looks at him with as much determination as ever and says, “call me. Every day.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s not! Just once, every day. Even if it’s only five minutes.”

Levi flicks her between her brows. “You won’t have the time, dumbass.”

“I’ll make time.”

Levi scrutinizes her for a moment, then says, “I’ll text.”

“Well, yeah, obviously.”

Levi curls his lip and pulls at a lock of her fringe, muttering, “brat. Why don’t you call me?”

“I will,” Hange says plainly. Levi’s eyes widen a fraction. “I’ll call as much as I can. But you need to call me too, okay? I wanna hear from you a lot.”

There is a long pause, and then Levi turns his eyes away. The light in the room is pale and muted, but it is just enough to highlight the pale flush gathering anew on his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose. It’s almost cute.

“Fine. I’ll call. Happy?”

Hange grins at him. “Very. And I’ll send you photos of everything, all the time.”

Levi leans down towards her, pinching her nose between his thumb and forefinger and giving her head a little shake. “On your shitty phone camera?”

Hange nods. She bats his hand away and cranes herself up into his space, smiling something wicked. “You’ll hate it. They’ll be all blurry and I’ll have my thumb in the corner of every picture.”

“Pest.”

“Lots of selfies, too. So you won’t forget what I look like.” Hange blindly swipes up a picture from the desk, holding it up between them in front of her mouth and nose. Between Levi dipping down into her space and Hange stretching up into his, they are so close that Levi has to cross his eyes to get a look at it. “Not that I think it’ll be a problem.”

He rolls his gaze up to look at her over the top of the photograph. Up close, Hange can see just how bright the blue of his eyes is, how dark his lashes are; she can see the shadows they cast on his cheeks, the deepening flush bruising the skin red. Levi has always been a pale thing, but now, Hange can see the smattering of light freckles across his nose, barely visible in the low light. He looks pretty. Her heart stutters in her chest at the sight.

Hange has never fully understood Levi’s drive to photograph everything. To preserve any given moment, bottle up every minute detail. She sort of understands it, then—it’d be nice, she thinks absently, to save this particular view for forever. The thought makes her face grow warm.

“I won’t forget.” Levi’s voice is quiet, caught somewhere between embarrassment and uncertainty. He sways closer, rocks back, hesitates. And then he leans down and lets his forehead drop against hers. Hange can feel the press of his nose against her own, separated only by the picture between them.

Hange is used to being close to him. She’s a clingy person by nature, always grabbing him and hugging him, smooshing her cheek against his or shoving her face into his hair, but she is always the one to initiate such contact. Levi is tactile, in his own way—small, non-invasive touches, his fingers on her wrist or his palm at her back, always delicate, understated.

To have Levi enter so wholly into her space like this is new. It’s nice. Hange finds herself feeling very, very thankful for the paper between them, for the urge to lean forward and kiss him comes unbidden, so suddenly she isn’t sure she’d be able to resist the impulse if there hadn’t been a barrier in her way.

“Is it my dazzling good looks?” she says, acutely embarrassed by how breathless she sounds. Levi makes a small, noncommittal noise. His fingers find hers where she’s holding the picture, gripping it and pulling it until it slips out from between them. For the smallest moment, Hange feels the skin of Levi’s nose against hers, and the warm puff of breath on her lips, and then Levi straightens up, flipping the picture for her to see it.

“I’ve looked at your ugly mug every day for long enough. Don’t think I’d forget it so easily.”

It’s a truly unflattering photograph. Hange has her head tipped back, laughing boisterously at some thing or another, with her eyes pinched closed and chocolate sauce smeared over her lips, a drop of cream stuck to the end of her nose. Hange is sure she has looked better, but the thing is—despite her state, the picture still isn’t bad. Hange can hear the lilt of her own laughter and feel the tacky syrup, savour the sweetness of the cream on her tongue. There’s something so...animated about it, about the way the light dances over her skin and in her hair, and the way the background blurs around her, drawing her into sharp focus.

It’s nice, in a strange, unreserved kind of way.

But she’s still a mess. Hange snatches it and slams it down on the desk, glowering up at Levi.

“Why would you take that,” she whines, petulant. “You’re supposed to take pictures of nice things!”

“Because it’s very...you,” He says, neatly slotting the pictures back into the drawer, and moving back to sit on the window. Hange follows, drops herself onto the ledge opposite him with a pout.

“What, disgusting?”

Levi shrugs. “Messy. But...not bad.”

“I’m supposed to take that as a compliment, I guess? That’s almost sweet coming from you, Levi.”

Levi scowls over at her. She dangles one leg back out the open window, dropping the other heavily into Levi’s lap. He adjusts it until he is more comfortable, his hand wrapping again around her ankle, but does not let go once he has settled. He keeps a hold of her, his fingers tracing thoughtless patterns on her skin. The space between them is warm, comfortable. Hange leans her head back and breathes it in—the peace, the quiet, the simple pleasure of spending a tender evening with her favourite person in the whole world.

It’s nice. A small, frightened part of her doesn’t want it to ever end.

**

Hange has been set up in her student apartment for three weeks when the package arrives.

Moving had been harder than she had anticipated. She’d accounted for common issues—problems with her visa, her plane tickets, and had checked multiple transport options from the airport to her accommodation in case problems arose—but she hadn’t put all that much thought into what would happen once she settled at her apartment.

Unpacking had been boring. Her roommates were nice enough, the studious, bookworm-y type, but unlike Hange they weren’t overly sociable. They kept mostly to themselves in their rooms, perfectly content with brief conversations in the kitchen before retiring again, and with classes still two weeks away, Hange was finding the lack of social interaction difficult. She had explored some, but the city was vast in a cluttered, claustrophobic way. Hange had always enjoyed travelling, and had talked relentlessly of every adventure she could take herself on in a whole new country and all the new places she could explore, so much so that it was almost embarrassing, the way she had found herself so unwilling to stray too far from her accommodation without a companion by her side.

She’d felt a little homesick in the first couple of days, lonely and isolated. She missed the small comforts of the country, things she hadn’t even realised she had taken for granted. Quiet nights. Star studded skies. Long grass and trees and the fresh, earthy smell on the breeze. The city was unbearably loud at times, and even when the wail of sirens or the beep of car horns quieted, there was an unidentifiable hum beneath it all that never ceased even for a moment.

She felt Levi’s absence most acutely. Hange had known she would, but she hadn’t been prepared for how much it would hurt to be apart. She felt silly for it—it was ridiculous, to miss her friend more than she missed her own family, even. But Levi’s presence had been more constant than anything else, back home, and without him, she felt like a small part of herself was missing.

He called, as promised. Once a day, though oftentimes it was very late in the night for him, and he sounded tired. If Hange were less selfish, she might tell him to get some sleep instead—but she missed him. Hearing from him was the best part of her day.

It was about an hour before their designated call time when the post came. Hange answers the bell with a frown, which only deepens when the delivery driver hands her the package.

She takes it into her room, settling cross legged on the bed and inspecting the mystery item. It's a decent size, like a large shoe box, wrapped neatly in brown paper with her address lettered in tidy, familiar handwriting in one corner. Hange’s stomach lurches—she’d have recognised the writing anywhere, but her suspicions are confirmed by the return address. Levi’s.

She rips into the paper quickly, snatching up her keys to tear through the tape on the top of the box. It is stuffed full with packing paper, an envelope with her name on it sitting on the top. Hange picks it up and with trembling fingers, she opens it and unfolds the short note inside.

Hange,

Sorry things have been kind of shitty. This stuff might help or it might make things worse, but I figure you can just throw it out if it’s no good. Or give it away. Whatever. I don’t even know if all of this shit will make it through customs, so if you get an empty box it’s not my fault.

I don’t get how you eat half this junk, but I hope it makes you feel better, anyway.

Look after yourself. Eat real food.

Levi

Hange presses the note to her chest, grinning. Her heart aches, but having Levi go to this much trouble for her...it feels nice. Knowing he is still thinking of her. She’d never have admitted it out loud, but Hange had been concerned that perhaps Levi would forget about her after all, without her there to pester him all the time.

She pulls out some of the packing paper, and smiles widely at the rest of the contents.

Levi had put together what Hange can only call a care package. There are packs of her favourite snacks and sweets, things she’d complained she hadn’t been able to find in stores here; crisps, chocolate, hard candy, little mini boxes of sickeningly sugary cereal. There are tea bags with blends Levi knows she likes, each neatly labelled with instructions on what temperature to brew at and how long for. Levi had also packed some of the soaps Hange likes, the ones he uses but she refuses to buy for herself. The lavender scent drifts up out of the box and Hange’s heart squeezes tight in her chest. There’s a shirt in there, too—Hange recognises it at once, as one of Levi’s old, worn tees, thin grey cotton that feels impossibly soft in her hands. It’s far too big for either of them, and had always been the go-to item Levi would chuck at her when she decided she was staying over for the night and had nothing to wear to bed. Hange pulls it on quickly, savouring the soft feel and the smell of it.

In the bottom of the box, there is another envelope. This one is thicker than the first, and Hange knows what it contains before she even opens it.

Photographs. A small pile of them, depicting places she and Levi had frequented from when they were children right up until this last year—her favourite part of the forest, where the trees thin out and the river pools at the foot of a small waterfall. The great, open fields, sometimes full of long grass, sometimes clipped short and striped with windrows. Kuchel’s cafe, with umbrellas raised to block the sun on the tables outside, or else warm and low-lit and cosy in the cold winter. Hange settles back on her pillows as she flicks through each picture, a soft smile on her face. Looking at the images of home hurts, but it isn’t a terrible pain—she longs for these old times and these familiar places, but each recovered memory makes her happy.

In Levi’s pictures she can vividly recall moments in each and every location. He works some kind of magic with a camera, to trigger so many sensory memories—the scent of freshly cut grass, the feel of hay, dry and sharp, poking into her back through her clothing, and the gentle trickle of the river water, the splash of it as it runs over the falls, the feel of it cool on her skin. The tangy zest of fresh-pressed orange juice in the cafe, peach fuzz on her lips and the soft flesh of ripe fruit bursting between her teeth, sticky nectar coating her fingers.

Hange looks at each picture in turn, until she reaches the bottom of the pile, and there she stops abruptly, eyes widening at the last photograph Levi has packed for her.

It is one of Hange, taken in the window of Levi’s bedroom. She was looking out at the night sky, her elbow braced on her bent  knee, chin in her palm, a small smile lifting the corner of her mouth. The starlight haloed her, shining from her hair and illuminating the jut of her chin, the curve of her nose and the slope of her brow. Behind her, Levi had captured the bright glow of the stars like jewels on a deep velvet canvas. She looked peaceful. Happy. For lack of a better word, beautiful.

Hange grins widely. Her eyes sting and her throat aches, but the picture—the whole box, really—makes her happier than she's felt in weeks. She brews her favourite cup of tea from the blends Levi had sent her and settles into the corner of her bed, lifting her phone to snap a quick selfie. She sends it to Levi, complete with a caption: thank you for my presents 😊 all ready for your call!

Levi responds almost immediately, first with a simple you're welcome. And then, after a minute, you look good. Speak to you soon.

Hange sinks deeper into the cushions, cradling her tea close to her face, masking the pleased flush on her cheeks with the heat from the steam.

**

Hange keeps him longer than usual, today.

There is a simmering warmth in her stomach as she listens to Levi's voice over the line. It comes tinny through the speakers, low and rough in the late hour, and his dark, grainy image looks tired, lamp light casting him half in shadow. They talk of everything and nothing, same as always—Levi tells her about his day, about the cafe and Kuchel, and Hange pouts as she tells him how little progress she is making in befriending her new housemates. Levi never voices any concern for her aloud, but Hange can sense it in the dip of his brows as she talks. She gives him a genuine smile when she reassures him that classes will start soon, and she's confident she will settle better after that.

Levi seems reluctant to leave, but after a little over an hour of aimless, comfortable chatter, he is yawning and blinking heavily, the lower half of his face nuzzled into his pillow. In the end, Hange makes up some watery excuse about visiting the coast while the sun is still high, if only to let him get some sleep.

"Sure. Have fun."

"I will! Sleep well, Levi."

Levi hums. The view shifts, blurry and indistinct, the mic muffled by the rustle of sheets, and when everything settles he is laying on his side, fringe mussed and falling over his eyes. He covers another long yawn with his fist. "I will."

"You'll call tomorrow?"

Levi rolls his tired eyes, but the corner of his mouth pulls up in a fraction of a smile. "Sure."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Hange grins. Levi watches her for a long moment, eyes scanning over her face. Then he holds up a hand in a tired wave. "Night, Hange."

"Night."

Hange stares at the screen for too long when the call ends. That terribly selfish part of her would have loved to keep his company for the rest of the day. Maybe, with a little travel sized Levi in the palm of her hand, she'd have been brave enough to explore some more, enthused about all the new things to see with somebody to share them with.

Sighing, Hange drops her phone to the desk and stands from the bed, stretching. There are still things she can do—she has plenty of recommended reading to get through, a small mountain of books at her disposal, and she has mapped the route to her campus often enough that she isn't feeling too overwhelmed by the prospect of the journey.

As she heads for the door, Hange notices something on the floor beside the bed. A neat, rectangular piece of paper; one of the photographs Levi had sent her, laying face down on the ground.

She picks it up again and brings the paper close to her face. Levi had written something on the back of it in small, quick letters, less tidy than his usual practiced script, as though he’d scribbled it as an afterthought, or else that he wasn’t sure he really wanted her to read it.

There is a date, the same night she had found Levi’s secret photo stash, followed by Hange’s name, and the location of the shot. And beneath that Levi had scrawled a few words. Hange squints to read them, and then her eyes grow wide, blinking owlishly down at the note. Her heart swells almost painfully and something solid balloons within her chest, squeezing the air from her lungs. Her lips tremble into a smile as she props the picture carefully on the bedside table.

The day is still young. Hange brews herself another cup of Levi’s tea and settles on the bed with one of her books, content to spend the next few hours reading—though she finds it strangely difficult to focus, with the words Levi had written on the back of the photograph swirling round and round in her head. Hange doubts they will leave her any time soon. They left her feeling more homesick than ever, but there is a soft, giddy kind of comfort in them all the same. It's a feeling that Hange will savour for as long as she possibly can.

It's weird here without you. Come home again soon x