#now i suffer to finish my last two projects

[unwcvering]

since it is sunday.

[readychilledwine]

A Helping Hand

Rhysand Week Day 4 : Lord of Night

Summary - High Lord, Husband, father. Rhysand's plate is just far too full, leading the Inner Circle to take over some duties.

Warnings - workaholic Rhysand, discussions of classism, new dad Rhys, platonic bond, loose editing so forgive me if I fix things later

A/N - I am so sorry this is late! I think someone *cough baby daddy cough* accidently deleted it when he did a run through for me. But anyways, happy late day 4 and day 5 of @officialrhysandweek! It'll be a double post day 💕

✨️Rhysand Week Masterlist✨️Rhys Masterlist✨️Master Masterlist✨️

“Please just let me handle this for you,” you were firm in the request, hand still on the request of approval to renovate the Opera house in the Rainbow. “We both know this project is completely unneeded. There is no reason for you to waste your time penning the letter.”

Rhysand stared at where your hand met the paper. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion, “I-”

“No. It's time for us to have a serious discussion.” You took the paper from him and then held his hands. “Rhysand, you have spread yourself far too thin. You are not sleeping well with a newborn, you are helping Feyre as she's healing, you are recovering from trauma. Let me help you by organizing the report by who should actually be handling them.”

Rhys seemed to consider your words before nodding, “I want final-”

“Rhysand, we have known each other for 500 years. Do you truly not trust me enough to make a decision based on your preferences?”

He tugged that power exchange bond between the two of you, silently asking for a bit of your energy. You offered it to him without hesitation, without even so much as thinking about your well-being over his. “I do not want the fae in this court knowing I'm not the one running the court.” You couldn't help but sigh and roll your eyes and stare at him, blinking as if to say, “Duh.” His lips twitched into a smile at you, “What are you going to do, sweetheart? Forge my signat..” His eyes went wide as he realized that was exactly what you had planned. “I expect brief rundowns first.”

“And you will have them. Now go take a nap.”

The Inner Circle gathered in the new father's office claiming reports left and right. Cassian took anything involving Illyria and the training camps. Azriel took anything involving newcomers to the City of Starlight, border related issues, and requests for visiting. Mor and Amren split Hewn City. Dividing those reports among issues relating to rumors of uprisings or requests for help and sanctuary from tortured females. It left you with things regarding the inner workings of Velaris. You were curled in your own office, writing the rejection letter for the Opera House Project. The Opera House had been a gift to Velaris after Rhysand's return home. It was barely more than a few years old and every single feature had been planned to perfection by you and Rhysand as a way to heal the odd bind that tied you two together. The wealthy fae of Velaris were asking to redo the seating. Specifically, they wanted the seats to be made larger. 

You knew this wasn't for comfort. You had fallen in love with studying the patterns of consumerism throughout Prythian history. You knew this project was aimed at accessibility. Less sears meant higher prices for shows. Higher prices meant exclusion of the middle and lower classes. Exclusion from the arts was dangerous, though. Something you, Rhysand, and Feyre stood firmly against. 

Hours seemed to pass as you finished one thing and moved to the next, realizing how far behind Rhysand had gotten. He was hardly sleeping, rotating nights with Feyre, or just forcing her to sleep while he handled nights with a newborn alone. He was being the father he never had. One who earned the title of Dad, and you knew the last thing he'd want was the fae he cared so much for to suffer because of it. 

The sunset when Cassian arrived, his work completed. “Rhys has been given the gist of everything. I am to only have to send one thing to the camp leaders,” Cassian slid a letter, one penned by himself over to you. “Rhysie is having them start to direct all issues to me first. Using your whole chain of command idea.” 

Silence. 

Cassian's words were met with silence as you swallowed hard, holding in tears of pride. “He's delegating?!”

The commander nodded, scarred lips twitching to smirk. “He is.”

You'd never faked his signature so fast, quill flying across the parchments, “This is good.”

Azriel was next with Nuala and Cerridwen in tow, “City guard is to report issues to the twins from now on,” he leaned into his chair. “If they deem it serious enough, they will handle it unless I need to get involved.”

“And if you can't handle it,” you questioned as a joke. 

Azriel scoffed before schooling his reaction to your jab, “Then, and only then, is Rhys to get involved. My part of his reports are done and sent. I didn't think anyone would have issues with me answering security related issues.” 

They'd be a fool to, is what you wanted to reply with. Azriel was not the type of male to fuck with unless you had a death wish. He was petty at times and loved to plot. 

Mor came next, throwing herself dramatically into the chair. “I hate how your Office is a dry zone,” she groaned. “I'll be visiting daddy dearest.” 

You gagged at that and the two of you launched into a gossip session. Turns out, her father had taken Rhysand's recent absence in Hewn City as an open invitation to run a few illegal trade rings. Rings Mor was all too happy to be putting an end to. 

“That summarizes what Amren and I will both be dealing with,” she yawned, perfect red nails flying to her lips. “I'm going to bed.”

10.

11. 

Midnight.

2am rolled around and your door opened again, a sleepy Rhysand carrying a sleeping Nyx. “Go to bed,” his tone was commanding but held an air of affection to you. “You're no better than me.”

You only maintained eye contact, smirking as you put his name on a document approving a community vegetable garden and greenhouse, “Yet here we are,” you whispered. “All your reports, acquisitions, and petitions done and handled.”

His face fell, eyes shutting as he nodded, “You all got me caught up?”

With a wave of your hand, all the stacks vanished to their proper locations where they would sit and wait to be opened by their receivers. “We did,” you stood as silently as possible and moved to him and Nyx, “Do you want me to go lay him down?”

Rhysand only responded by pulling you into a tight side hug, his face burying in your hair, “How can I repay you for this? You have no clue what this meant to Feyre and I.”

The hug was payment enough. Contact with your best friend making that power bond hum as you hugged him back, “No repayment is necessary, Rhys. We all need help sometimes.”

“But-”

You whispered again, interrupting him, “We all need help sometimes.”

Understand, gratefulness, and admiration filled his almost violet colored gaze, “How did I get blessed with Feyre as my mate and you as my carranam?”

“Good question,” you shot back. “Maybe it was so we could keep you humble.” You took Nyx slowly, moving to walk the little heir back to his nursery. “Or maybe it was to keep you from dying in your office. Goodnight, Rhysand.”

You could tell he wanted to sass you back, to have the last word. It had been so long since that side of him came out, and you were glad to see a day of rest brought some fire back to him. He seemed to settle with nodding, walking backwards as he watched you take Nyx, “This isn't over. Once I wake up refreshed tomorrow, it's on. Goodnight, Y/n.”

General Taglist:

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[honeykaes]

a renter's deal

pairing: renter!kaveh x afab!reader II 2.2k

warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact, afab!reader with no set pronouns, cunnilingus, fingering, reader had a previous crush on kaveh, unambiguous if kaveh knew, reader is a landlord, unedited

synopsis: your old college-friend (and crush) Kaveh hadn’t paid rent yet. Just as you draft an email to inform him of the consequences, you hear a knock at the door wish a kaveh desperate to pay you back in other ways.

Cicadas loud chirping echoing from outside as your a/c continuously blast to avoid the hot temperatures of the summer from creeping into your apartment complex. It was the end of the month as the next loomed over in a couple of days. As the landlord, this was one of your busiest times. From working on paperwork moving people out of apartments to finalizing paperwork and credit scores to move people into the apartment, you had your work cut out for you—especially when it came to residents paying their dues for their apartments.

A fan blew past you, causing your body  to shiver as you shake your head trying to focus again on the laptop in front of you. An excel sheet on the screen greeted you back, tracking everyone’s payments. Apartment 125, Tighnari, paid in full. So did apartment 243, Aether and Lumine,  before they moved out.

As you scrolled down, you noticed only a few people had not paid you for rent yet despite today being the last day of the month—including your old college friend, Kaveh.

You and Kaveh were once friends in college before losing contact after graduating. He was always very popular and friendly, a heart of gold that always managed to get hurt by one situation or another. He was now a pretty-well known architect trying to start his own firm. 

You helped him through his breakups, his tests—his ups and downs, as he did the same for you. You wanted to reconnect when you first worked with him, moving in to his complex but things weren’t the same. The two of you aren’t the same 18, 19 year olds staying up late and going to a midnight movie showing before an exam like you used to—you both were in your late twenties, different responsibilities and interests pulling you.

And that scared you, so you gave him space.

Since the economy had slowed and businesses and organizations were interesting in building more projects anymore, Kaveh suffered immensely, scrapping anything he could to try to pay rent at the last minute to you. You felt bad but you didn’t want to pry either. 

You let out a sigh, clicking on your emails as you began to draft. Since he was late on payment, a meeting needed to be scheduled and fees processed to strategize a plan. You didn’t want to evict the poor man; or anyone for that matter.

Just as you finished drafting the email, you turned your head hearing a knock at the door. Placing your laptop on your coffee table and rising from the couch, you expected a resident to inform you about something breaking or not working. Your lips parted in shock to see Kaveh at the door. 

Kaveh seemed completely disheveled, long blond ombre hair, a mess unlike its usually tidy self. His clothes were wrinkled and unfastened as if he had just woken up and immediately ran here. He leans along the wall near your door, chest heaving loudly as he struggles to catch his breath.

“Kaveh?! Are you alright?!” you stammered out. Kaveh puts a finger out to signal to give him a second before he finally catches his breath.

“N-No. I’m so sorry I’m late on rent,” he groaned. “I am working with this school to create a playground but they won’t be able to pay me until next week. I’m a bit short with rent with my current funds.”

Your lips curled downwards before lifting your head to to nurse the headache threatening to form from the stress of the situation.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve been late, Kaveh. I can’t grant you a grace period. I really need that money in full,” you murmured. Kaveh turned to face you, scarlet eyes misty in desperation. Your heart withered seeing him in this state, but you feared bugging would put you on a tight spot with your boss.

“Please (Y/n)! You got to understand, I really tried this time. I can give you what I have and give you the remaining next week! Then I’ll be good to go for next month,” Kaveh yelled out. 

“Kaveh, let’s continue this inside, okay? I’ll get you a glass of water or some tea to calm your nerves,” you beckoned, as your own anxiety began to creep in your stomach, you open your door beckoning Kaveh to come inside without a potential audience watching the two of you.

As he nervously entered, stifly sitting himself at the couch as you leave to enter your adjacent kitchen.

“I am only short 500 out of the 1500 dollars for rent and utilities. I can surely give that to you next week,” Kaveh called out as you prepare some glasses of water for you two. You sigh once more, leaning yourself against the fridge trying to figure out what to say without hurting your old friend’s feelings anymore.

“Kaveh, technically it wouldn’t be 500 but 1000. 100 for the late fee and 400 because this is the second time, along with the 500. I don’t make these policies, my bosses do,” you replied solemnly, guilt beginning to eat at you.

“Then what can I do to prevent the late fees from occurring!” he asked.

In college, whenever he was in a bad situation, to make him feel better you always started off with a ridiculous joke to catch him off guard before giving some sound advice with a smile. Oftentimes, he’d be smiling back, hopeful and taking your feedback and lighthearted jokes for the better.

Grabbing the glasses of water, you walked back into the living room placing the waters on the coffee table and closing your laptop.

“I don’t know, fuck me or something,” you idly murmured out before chuckling. Just as you were about to give him actual advice, Kaveh fell to his knees in front of you, wrapping his arms around your legs. You gasped, flustered,  body shifting in embarrassment feeling his close contact.

“Kaveh! What are you doing! It was a joke! Y’know like I used to do in college!” you stammered out. Kaveh lifted his head up, eyebrows slightly furrowed in determination.

“Well, I’m not! I wouldn’t mind it at all. If this makes those pesky late fees go away, I’d be more than happy to do this and more!” Kaveh replied. You tried forming words from your quivering lips but your mind seemed to be malfunctioning, feeling his lips beginning to trail along your thighs, placing soft kisses along the skin.

“...Please (Y/n). For old times sake?” he whispered. 

Your heart tugged remembering the big crush you had on him before and the drunken kisses you shared with him as you attending parties together leaving you longing for more—the memories were flooding you like a tidal wave.

“...Okay, Kaveh…”

With a small smile gracing his sun-kissed face, Kaveh hands trailed up as his fingers hook on their shorts and the waistband of your underwear and gilded them down. He leaned his face in, puffs of his hot breath causing your body to shiver from the sensation as your clit began throbbing in anticipation.

His face tilts closer, darting his tongue out as he trailed a long swipe between your folds. The muscles curled up to brush against your clit, jolts of pleasure rooting through you from the sudden touch. He swirled along the bud of nerves, hands squeezing at your thighs. Your hands reached over to his hair, playing with the soft curls and losing yourself to pleasure.

He flicked his tongue along the nub, feeling your hips beginning to rock along his face. A low groan emitted from you as you ground yourself against him, his lips circling around your clit before beginning to suck. He continued to switch from sucking to rapidly flicking and circling his tongue on your clit while his hand crept up to squeeze your ass so he could keep up with your movements.

As he continued, one hand eventually left the globe letting two of his fingers sink into your dribbling cunt, coated with your arousal and his saliva. He pumped them deliberately slowly, your legs shaking from his delicate touch, wanting more.

“Kaveh,” you whimpered out, hearing him slurp continuously as your slick graced his mouth. He nuzzled his face deeper into your cunt, as his fingers pumped inside your pulsating walls, curling and massaging themselves to get you closer to your high.

Shutting your eyes, your hands traveled to your chest and squeezed it tightly as your voice began to rise, feeling Kaveh’s tongue press harder against the button. You throw your head back, as your high finally reached you. Kaveh struggled to keep up with your movements as he continued to thrust his fingers inside of you, nursing your high before it fell down. 

With slight jitters, Kaveh finally leaned away, lower mouth completely coated in your slick. His tongue was parted out, strings of your arousal still connecting the muscle with your cunt. Your tired eyes stared down in embarrassment, cheeks warm in shame as Kaveh wipes his mouth in content.

You could see the bulge poking out from his pants.

“W-Well! You’ve done your part! So—”

You're interrupted by Kaveh rising from his knees on the floor and connecting his lips with your own in a passionate kiss. You can’t help but moan, feeling his tongue, stained in your juices, roam inside your own mouth as he pulled you closer. He momentarily broke the kiss, both of you trying to catch your breaths, lips hovering by your own.

“I want to ensure that you don’t go back on your word though. So please, let me ensure your pleasure…” Kaveh breathlessly begged, claiming your lips once more. His hands wandered to your waist as pinned you against the wall—paintings knocking roughly from the sudden movement. 

Breaking the kiss once more, he zipped his pants down, revealing his throbbing erection. His cock was flushed, shivering as he took a hold of it as precum budded at its tip, dripping down to the rest of his length. He pumped it a few times with a shaky moan erupting from his lips before using another hand to slightly light your leg up near his small waist.

Your lips trembled as the tip of his cock spread past your folds trying to find your entrance, gathering up the abundant slick drooling from you. As Kaveh lined himself up, he placed his lips by your ear and with a low groan, sank himself inside of you. 

He grunted loudly when he finally bottomed out, cock nestled deep inside of you. He pecked at your neck before snapping his hips back, thrusting himself inside of you. The paintings hit the wall rowdily to the pace of his thrusts. 

“I hope you’re enjoying my end of the d-deal…” Kaveh grunted out, pressing his lips against your ear so you could hear all of his little noises. You moaned in response as Kaveh reached over to press tight circles along your overstimulated clit. 

“Y-You made me so sensitive,” you admitted, as you chirped, feeling Kaveh shifting his angle pistoning inside of you so he was not hitting that spot he desperately wanted to find.

“T-That’s the point. I want to make you cum so hard. I know you can…you're so close aren’t you, eshgham,” he whispered, nibbling on your neck. Kaveh could feel your walls beginning to cave in and spasm, signaling your end was close. 

“K-Kav—” Kaveh captured your lips as you reached your second climax, your body shivering pinned against him. Hips sloppily faltered as he furrowed his eyebrows to try to control his own temptations and guide you down your high once more.

As glossy lips part from your own, Kaveh slipped his cock out, pumping it rapidly before a desperate groan emitted from his lips before biting down to try to be quieter. Ropes of cum shot from his tip, smearing themselves on your thighs. 

He watched as his cum glided down the curves of your wobbling leg. He let your other leg down before supported your weight on your body with a small smile.

“Easy there…you’re probably very overstimulated. Let’s get you all cleaned up in your bathroom. Where is that,” he asked. You tiredly pointed into the direction of your bedroom as he guided you toward it. As he opened the door, he gently set you down on the rim of the porcelain bathtub before reaching to grab a rag on your towel rack.

“I’m sorry for going a little overboard. I just wanted to ensure I had done my part. Keeping my end of the deal is important to me,” he murmured, wetting the towel up with some soap before wiping it down to clean your legs. As he wiped over your cunt, you whined at the burn of overstimulation getting to you.

“...So, please, please please don’t go back on your word, (Y/n),” he begged, with large  pleading eyes. You sighed once more, but to his surprise it was a lot lighter in tone than earlier.

“...You don’t have to pay rent at all for this month, okay? I’ll cover it…just focus on getting the money for the next month,” you whispered. Kaveh lit up as a grin curled on his face. He leaned in placing a tender kiss on your forehead as your cheeks fought against a blush.

“...I missed you Kaveh…” you admitted. Kaveh brushed part of your hair away.

“I missed you too.”

[ghostchems]

infernal - terzo x f!reader - part five

art by the incredibly talented @piaart!

author’s note: finally have this finished but man is it hard to be satisfied. i keep wanting to work on it and work on it but i also really wanted to get this out! also don't even know if this is good teehee. lots of awkward here. 4.9k words. part one/two/three/four. ao3 linky.

The date is going surprisingly well. You chose an Italian spot (ha!) and have had your fill of lobster ravioli and Cabernet Sauvignon all while you learned more about Dylan since he graduated high school. Went to a state school in the middle of bumblefuck, drank and drank some more, got overly into the college culture (emphasis on cult) and tipped a few cows in his time. It aligns perfectly with the slivers of information Catherine gave you through the years, though he’s mentioned nothing of the steady college girlfriend he supposedly had. Interesting. You laugh at his dumb jokes. You’re smiley. But it does feel like an act that’s partially fueled by alcohol and having someone’s attention on you.

He’s still talking but you’re admiring his small, button nose, how his brunette locks shape his face and his bright smile. You can’t help but think his face is a little too smooth, though. Has this boy been through anything meaningful? Has he suffered at all in his shiny little life? Your mind drifts back to Terzo’s rough hands and how they felt on you earlier that day. He forced you to your knees and it was clear that it wasn’t the first time he’s done so. You can still taste him on your tongue.

“You haven’t told me about your job! Aren’t you like an assistant?” Dylan snaps you out of it and you offer a shy smile.

“Yeah! I had to get out of that call center, man. It was like draining my life force. Not that this isn’t difficult but it’s nice to not be yelled at by some rando on the phone for hours a day.” You toy with your glass of wine.

“So, like what do you assist in? Is it just you?”

Huh. You’ve never really explained exactly what you do to anyone. Not even Catherine or Erica — you only really focused on Him. That won’t go over too well in this situation, will it?

“It’s just me and it’s mainly house maintenance right now. My boss’ place was a disaster when I started.” Perhaps the most watered down description of your job.

“So you’re like… you’ve cleaned it up?” There’s judgment in his voice that’s immediately sobering. He stares at you blankly.

“I guess I meant more like projects. The last big one was fixing up his yard. I had to manage the budget and scheduling of the landscapers and stuff.” Your voice is flat.

“Oh, okay gotcha.” Dylan nods and he is back to smiling. You’re seething on the inside. Was your answer acceptable to him? “What’s your boss like? Is he a guy?”

What the.

“Yeah, he’s a guy. He’s a little weird. Definitely eccentric. I’ve tried not to pry too much into his personal life, you know. Boundaries and all that, but when I first started he had me sort out some of his things and it looked like he used to be the lead singer in a band.” Another oddly phrased question. At least now you’ve been prompted to bring up the man you haven’t been able to stop thinking about.

“Oh, shit! That sounds awesome! What band?”

Oh, do you hesitate. A long silence stretches between you two.

“I’m… I’m not sure I should say. I don’t want to blow up his spot or anything.” You’re sheepish suddenly and Dylan notices.

“Aw, come on. Who am I gonna tell?” A good question. You drum your fingers on the table, thinking about how you’ve never really told anyone who your boss actually is.

“Catherine will tell me if she finds out.” A warning, last one until the big reveal. Dylan nods enthusiastically, some of his hairs falling into his forehead. For a split second you think that maybe if you were younger with much less life experience perhaps he would be perfect for you. But you know too much and you know that he wouldn’t be able to give you what you want. “It was Ghost.”

“Oh.” He makes a face and leans back in his chair.

“Oh? Sorry, is that not impressive enough?”

“No, no. It’s still cool. They’re just… I don’t know.”

Do you continue this conversation? Do you care what he thinks? You don’t…but your curiosity gets the better of you.

“What is it, Dylan? Are they lame? I’ve tried to… you know, not dig too deep into it because I feel like that would affect my professionalism.” That and you didn’t want to completely pry into the man’s life.

“Oh, I get that. Uhhh, I mean they’re not REALLY metal. They say they’re metal but they’re not so it’s just a little weird.” He shrugs and crosses his arms. You knit your brows together because you have absolutely no idea what he’s talking about.

“Right. Okay.”

“Yeah, I mean, they are basically like pop. Not metal, not at all.” He sounds so impassioned and you nod along but it feels inappropriate. Why is he so pressed? It turns you off even more and you do everything in your power to get this date wrapped up. You are done drinking and you’re too full for dessert. Responses shorten and eventually you’re out front on the sidewalk waiting for an Uber. Dylan has insisted on waiting with you and hovers just a bit too closely by your side. He seems a little oblivious to how this date has gone, bless his heart.

“Well, this is me.” Awkward, so awkward. You move to get into the car but Dylan stops you by your arm and leans in for a kiss. It’s truly over before it starts, a quick peck before he pulls away with a smirk. You are dying on the inside.

“We’ll hang out again soon, yeah?”

“Sure. Yes.” You lie and hurry into the Uber, wanting nothing more than this wretched day to finally end.

Terzo blinks awake. The cool air of the night pricks his cheeks. Leaves crunch beneath his soggy socks. He coughs, blood spilling from his mouth and splattering on his thick chest hair. A robe hangs loosely from his shoulders. Terzo’s eyes drift down to his hand to see he’s wearing his black gloves with sharp, golden nails. He squints and there’s something black stuck to one of the points. Gaze drifts to where he is. His driveway. A breeze rolls by that sends shivers down his spine as his eyes focus on your car.

He’s slashed one of your tires.

Terzo cackles wildly upon this realization. This is new even for him and his weird, otherworldly tendencies. Could be straight up mental illness. He takes a few lumbering steps forward before crouching to eye the tire, surveying the damage. Completely shredded with the rim touching the ground. There’s a familiar buzzing in his skull, a buzz that he used to get while performing. How far he had fallen. Still, he’s delighted with himself. A fitting punishment for the way you crushed him earlier. What hubris you had for leaving your car on his property. Rage shoots through him for a quick moment, the thought of you spending the night with your date crossing his mind. Would this boy drop you off in the morning? He could plan for that.

In his fits of unsatisfying sleep, ideas for being cruel sprang to his mind. He’s settled on ignoring you for most of tomorrow, to have you toil away waiting for any kind of attention but to no avail. Terzo would be watching you the whole day, of course, hidden away in dark corners and peering down from atop the grand staircase. He has always been the best at sneaking around undetected out of all of his brothers, having avoided so many moments where his father could have reamed him out due to this expertise. Primo and Secondo weren’t so lucky.

Sharp pang in his chest from thinking about them.

No, no. He must focus on you. He pushes the thoughts back to the void. You’ll be trapped here at the end of your workday because of this, wouldn’t you? That’s when he’ll reveal himself. He’ll torture you. Tease the information of your date out of you.

How well could it have gone when you are so devoted to him?

The house is cold without him, a shiver running down your spine every time you found yourself in a dark corridor. You try to keep your thoughts to a minimum and are somewhat thankful that the contractor was able to come today. He’s a quiet man but seems to enjoy your cheerfulness which breathes life into an otherwise miserable day. Between directions and answering questions, you would wander the first floor and hover by the stairs, listening for any signs of life only to hear silence. The last time you saw him flits through your mind — the pressure of the hand on your neck that forced you to the ground seconds after he angrily spat in your face seconds after he kissed you. What the hell. You should be furious at him for treating you that way, for leaping over the carefully placed boundaries the two of you have been dancing around for weeks.

But instead you sigh dreamily. You burn for him. Cheeks grow hot just from thinking about his rough hands on you. You hope he’s okay. And you’re sure he is, he’s a big boy.

The fact that you’re more worried about his feelings than you are about potentially losing your job over this is not lost on you. You’ve lived in constant fear of getting fired over the smallest mistakes since the start of this job but you are oddly calm about this situation. This feels like a natural progression. There was going to be a time where you had to confront this strange connection and you would rather it happen sooner rather than later with the way things have been going. As painful as it would be (emotionally AND financially) to say goodbye to him maybe it would be best for it be sooner rather than later.

The day goes by at a painfully slow pace with no sign of him. Anxiety builds and builds as you watch your clock tick down on your phone. You’ve taken to painstakingly wiping down every single mirror on the first floor (there is an absurd amount of them) because it takes up time and gives you something to focus one. After a while interacting with the contractor becomes painful for you, too heightened to be able to function in a normal social setting. You send him home early with a smile, being Friday and all, and you continue carrying out your mirror mission. This takes you to around 4:30 at which point you say “fuck it” and decide it’s time for bed! What is the point of even being here anymore when you could be under your comforter with a pint of chocolate chip ice cream as you ponder your existence?

It was an easy decision.

You meander out the front door, making sure not to slam it shut but have it at least be somewhat loud to announce your exit. Yes, you are stooping that low. A quick wave of relief washes over you because you made it. The day is over and while the issue looms you are at least out of his domain. Car keys jingle in your pocket. You make quick work of the walk from the porch to your car until the state of your tire stops you in your tracks.

“Oh my god!” You’re in disbelief. It’s like an animal chewed through the rubber. Your rim is on the ground. Tears start to well up in your eyes. This is it. This is the thing that’s pushed you over the edge today. A frustrated screech bubbles up your chest.

“Come back inside.”

You freeze as soon as you hear his voice. Spinning on heel, you turn to face him. He’s standing with his arms crossed, leaning against a column on the porch. His dress shirt is the darkest black you’ve ever seen, partially unbuttoned to show off thick chest hair and cut slacks show off his strong thighs. Did he get dressed up for you? His paint is crisp and hair is slicked back neatly. Fuck, he looks good*.*

“I can get an Uber?” A question as if you’re asking him permission, taking a few tentative steps towards him.

“Hmmm. No. I’ll call you a driver.” A rough response but you can’t help but feel warmth blossom in the pit of your stomach. “Get back inside.” Terzo growls, his gaze stern and pointed. He leaves you alone in his front yard. You feel silly by how hard your heart hammers in your chest but this is what you’ve been wanting all day. A moment passes by and you work up your courage to go inside and take your punishment. Thoughts of your shredded tire fade.

You walk inside the foyer and follow the sound of clinking glasses, finding him at the bar in the den. Terzo’s gaze falls to you then he directs you to the couch with his eyes. You silently follow the order and sit on one of the couch cushions furthest away from him. There’s a lump in your throat, fidgeting with your hands as you wait for him to join you. Eventually he turns around to face you with two drinks in his hand, one a red martini with a lime green umbrella and the other a pint full of something gross looking - not beer but still brown? His face is blank and you try to match his energy but it’s hard to keep your blush at bay. You reach out to take the martini from him but he pulls it back out of your grasp and instead presses the pint into your hand. The smell fills your nostrils: whiskey. Yuck. He runs a hand through his hair as he takes a seat on the other side of the couch, allowing for plenty of space between you two.

“You’ve called the driver already, right?”

“Yes.” He rolls his eyes but you’re still not sure you believe him.

Terzo’s arm stretches across the back of the couch, gloves just brushing your shoulder. Your grip on your whiskey tightens. This isn’t his usual charming aloofness, there’s something cold and cruel bubbling beneath the surface. Still, you want nothing more than to speak to him, even if he’s obviously pissed at you. He lifts his other hand up to his face, admiring the sharp golden nails adorned to his leather gloves. Eyes slowly drag from them to settle on you, gaze so piercing and yet uninterested in you.

“So, you had him pick you up here, si?”

“Yeah, but—“

“Drink.” He points at your glass and narrows his eyes. Not playing around. You do as he says and take a sip. “Keep drinking.” Lip twitches in a faint show of satisfaction as you bring the glass up back to your lips and take a deep gulp. There’s delight in his eyes and you’re more than happy to play the game just to see more of it. Your eyes twitch and you cough once you set the glass, the whiskey burns your throat.

“It was convenient for him.” Words are rough from the sting of alcohol.

“Ohh, was it now?” Terzo growls and digs his nails into the couch, tearing into the fabric. The sound gives you goosebumps. You open your mouth but he’s too quick. “Finish your drink.” He snaps, daggers for eyes that sends a chill down your spine. You swallow thickly and toy with your glass with the tips of your fingers before bringing it back up to your lips. Head tips back, the room swirls and you swallow down the rest of the liquid.

“Gross. Ugh.” Grimacing as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “It’s less of a drive for him and I’m a pushover, okay?” You sigh, only partially joking. His eyes noticeably soften. You sink deeper into the cushion. “I said yes to this date because it was with my best friend’s older brother who I’ve known forever and I’ve always had a crush on him.” Terzo’s fingers shift from the couch to your shoulder, his nails just short of tearing through your shirt, his anger coming back up to a simmer just below the surface, but you continue on unafraid.

“I had to see what would happen. You have to understand… you build the thing up in your head as something perfect and special but then when you actually actually experience it…” You deflate and you eyes wander away from him, wanting to look anywhere else. “It’s never as good as you imagined it. Plus, he was a garbage kisser.” You immediately regret the words as soon as you say them. They hang heavy in the air and the air catches in your lungs. You feel him shift on the couch but you can’t bring yourself to look until his his hand curls around by back of your neck and forces you to look at him. Eyes sharp like knives.

“You let him kiss you.” A statement, not a question. Terzo makes you watch as he slinks closer to you. There’s like a current coming off of him right now that has you paralyzed even though you so badly want to protest. You whimper, words getting caught in your throat as he reaches for you. He grabs you by your waist with the tips of his claws poking against your skin, that delicious danger teasing you as always. “How did it compare?” Terzo trills, a charming smile with vicious edge. Hoo boy. Blood rushes to your cheeks.

“It didn’t compare at all.” You whisper as you try to sink as far into the couch as possible. Not because you don’t want to be close to him but you’re confused. Everything about this feels like a trap, like one wrong answer could set him alight but you’re not exactly fighting it. Instincts are telling you to run but you stay exactly where you are. Terzo’s hand drift up your sides, suggestively squeezing you in all the right places until he’s holding you by your shoulders. He’s smiling wider than before and there’s glee in his eyes — he’s pleased with you. A torrent of heat shoots through your core. He doesn’t say anything, merely taking in your reactions to his touches. His finger tips glide across your top, nearly clipping right through it until his hands settle around your throat. He squeezes just enough to make you gasp for air, then leans in to you, pressing his forehead against yours. You can feel his hot breath on your lips.

Tease.

“I could hurt you.” Terzo muses against your lips, lashes fluttering and eyes wide. There’s a slight tug at the corner of his mouth. Silence passes comfortably between the both of you as you take in each other’s breaths and warmth.

“I know. I’m… afraid of that. But it’s why I’m here.” You feel drunk, the words just tumbling out of you but you don’t care anymore. He is so close to kissing you that you can nearly taste him but instead he pulls away with a wry smile.

“Your glass is empty.” Terzo snickers and then jumps up in a way that can only be described as cat-like, snatching the glass from your hands. You’re left hot and bothered as he turns his back to you to saunter over to the bar. Alone with your thoughts while you watch him pour you another generous whiskey. Oh no. Oh no. You can still taste it on your tongue and it is not for you. But when he turns around with the warmth and charm you’ve been wanting all doubts are gone. You’re going to be messy tonight and that’s just that. When he turns back to face you he’s at least given you half of what he did the first time, walking slowly over to where you’re sitting on the couch.

He looms over you as your eyes drift up to meet his gaze and he audibly growls. You suck in a sharp breath, your nails digging into the soft flesh of your thighs. Terzo lifts a hand up and brushes his thumb along your jaw before tilting your chin up. He brings the glass to your lips and tips it back. You part your lips, the whiskey burning as it spills down your throat. He continues to pour until you can’t keep up with it and it leaks out of your mouth and down your cheeks. You gasp and he flings the glass down onto the side table as he crushes his mouth against yours, unable to keep away from you any longer.

And you certainly don’t care that he all but purrs into your mouth, soft lips moving against yours. He cups your face with his gloved hands, leather thumbs caressing your cheekbones as he slips onto the couch beside you without breaking the kiss. Fingers curl around his wrist and you press in close to him, losing yourself in how he tastes. His velvety tongue probes your mouth as the kiss grows in intensity. Deep pants try to keep your feet on the ground but you’re off in space, exhaustion and comfort mixing in a way that has you floating. Terzo pulls away from the kiss and you can hardly open your eyes. He gently guides your head to his chest, stroking his fingers through your hair.

“You never called me a driver did you?”

“Oh no. Never considered it.” Terzo squeezes you in his arms.

Oh, he’s so warm. A rumbling groan falls from your lips as his wraps his arms around you, just holding you there. Your limbs relax and you sink deeper into his chest as he starts to rubs up and down your back. In that moment you know you’re a goner. A deep, sleepy sigh falls from your lips and in a matter of minutes you are out cold.

Terzo almost feels guilty for being such an ass. Almost. He feels for you, he can relate to realizing that something isn’t all it was cracked out to be. At least for you it was a childhood crush and not being raised for one person. But still, he was a tad mean wasn’t he? It was necessary and the tension… the tension had been so delicious. Watching you squirm under his intense stare. And you just did what he said, unquestioningly, even when had you drink and drink and drink. Adrenaline is pumping through him and he struggles to contain himself— he must not go any further, despite how tempted he is. He could get away with it. You’re so soft, so pliable and so wanting. Terzo can feel the heat radiating off of you, no doubt from the alcohol and your closeness. He could slip his hand between your thighs and give you exactly what you want.

But it wouldn’t be fair to you. Terzo wants you coherent and focused when he takes you. Plus you’re adorably snuggled against him right now, your soft breaths against his chest. He’s longed for this and you did not disappoint. Wait a minute. Are you sleeping? He is about to fall apart, his arms wrapping so much tighter around you. The urge to keep you safe, to keep you here and never let you leave overcomes him*.* He squeezes your hand that is clutched to his chest and then gingerly picks it up and places it back in your lap.

“Sleepy?”

You lift your heavy head to look at him and good god do you want to be asleep right now. A tender smiles breaks out across his face as he swipes some of your hair from your eyes. A stark contrast from how close he had just been to strangling you.

“Take the guest room tonight, puffetta. I will bring you some clothes.” Terzo pulls himself to his feet. “Meet you up there.” He’s so soft, so different than how torturous he was of you earlier. You’re sure he’s heard what he’s wanted to hear from you but he’s unpredictable. Something you liked about him. There’s an unknown darkness that lies beneath his charm and good looks and it calls out to you. You’ve never felt this way about anyone. How could you ever get away now?

You blink and realize that you’re alone. You’ve been alone. Oh shit. Scrambling off of the couch, you trip over your own feet with the effects of the whiskey hitting you hard.

Ah, the guest room. A cramped space with antique furniture that could use some time and attention. The overall theme of the room is… dust. You’ve brought up having the dresser refinished or even repainted and replacing the peeling wallpaper but it’s low on the list of priorities. You push the door shut and give a soft sigh of relief. Shoes come off. A lamp on the bedside table barely illuminates the room and a folded pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt are waiting for you on the bed. Eyes scan over the remainder of the comforter and pillows, wondering if anyone had ever slept here. You can’t help the feeling that you’re being watched but maybe the fact that you’re about to wear your boss’ clothes isn’t meshing well with the practically decaying room.

“Whatever.” You huff to yourself and undress with the grace of a toddler, kicking your pants off and throwing your removed clothes into a pile on the ground. Sitting down on the bed, you pull up the sweatpants and they are loose as they settle around your waist. The shirt slips over your head and swallows up your upper body. Did he purposely give you his largest clothing to make you feel small? It is so cozy, though. You wrap your arms around your body and flop back onto the bed, sinking into the softness of the blankets. Comfortable heat spreads across your skin from buzz of the alcohol. Limbs go limp and your eyelids grow heavy, a deep sigh falling from your lips. Fading fast.

The piercing ring of the rotary phone cracks through the air and you jolt upright and wide awake. What the? You don’t remember seeing it when you came in and it’s not like it blends in — it’s bright red with intricate black etchings along the base and the handle of the receiver. Not a speck of dust on it. The phone rings again, somehow louder and more harmful to your ears than before. You blink and suddenly you’re standing directly in front of the dresser with one hand curled around the receiver. Heart is pounding in your chest and ears. Something is calling out to you. Answer it. Answer it. Answerit. answeritansweritansweritanswerit.

You pick up the phone to silence. Then chittering. The receiver is hot on your cheek. Something pricks your ear but you can’t pull away. There’s a squelch. A screech. More screaming. It only gets louder and louder, needles in your ears, pain shooting through your brain. You can’t breathe. You twirl the phone cord around your fingers and shuffle your bare feet against the cold floor, the only thing you’re able to get your body to do other than press the phone so hard against your head. The closer you listen to the screams the more familiar they get, growing in intensity, pain and volume. Burning, the receiver is burning now and yet you can’t move, you can’t get any relief. The phone cord is nearly completely tangled around your wrist and you’re sweating, gasping for breath, and crying without even realizing it. The screams finally subside, replaced by a cold, dead silence.

You hang up the phone.

Suddenly, an overwhelming wave of exhaustion washes over you and you collapse onto the bed. The world spins as you sink into the soft mattress, the dial tone still echoing in your ears.

[tinydeskwriter]

Actress!Y/n Talking About Harry in Interviews Over the Years(2018-2022) Part II

 A/n:so, this is the second part, and I really hope you guys like it .

PART I | MASTERLIST

Jimmy Kimmel Live!, September, 2018

“I am so happy to have you here again.” Kimmel said, as they sat down. “You’re no longer my neighbor.”

“Unfortunately.” The woman agreed. “I miss you, Molly and the kids, we don’t have neighbors anymore.”

“You mean the house next door isn’t ready or…” 

“We literally have no neighbors, we bought fourteen acres ‘next door’ to a preserve, so it’s amazing views and a huge amount of privacy.” She explained. “Which when you have a job in the industry, and two young children is amazing.”

“That’s right, you had another baby!”Jimmy said as if he didn’t already now. “How far apart are they?”

“So, we had Atticus in January last year, and eleven months later we had Talulah,” She paused giving the audience time o cheer, “we wanted them to be close in age, which is a decision a lot of parents make, we didn’t know it would happen so fast, but apparently we are very fertile people,” She paused again, letting the people go crazy, “Yeah, so of course, we didn’t factor in our decision Harry’s tour, my album release, all my projects, and a very cranky baby, Atticus is physically all H, but he’s bad temper is all mine.”

“You went on tour pregnant and with a baby?” The host asked. “That must have been a crazy experience.”

“It was something.” She agreed. “But I was the boss’s wife, so everyone took good care of me, made sure I was comfortable, helped around with the baby, and H created an amazing environment with his whole team, it was lovely to witness.”

Met Gala 2019 With Liza Koshy| Vogue

“You co-chaired the Met Gala back in 2016, how is like to be back, and this year your gorgeous husband is co-chairing the event.” Liza asked Y/n as soon as they finished greeting each other.

The camera was zooming on the naked Gucci gown made of black lace, sequins and feathers the superstar was wearing, totally complementing her husband look.

“It is amazing, I am so proud of H, this is such an amazing honor, and is his first year, so I am happy we get to share this with each other.” Y/n said in a soft voice.

“What is ‘camp’ to you?”The you tuber asked.

“Just be yourself, whatever you want no matter what, be bold, be crazy, it’s camp.” The actress said moving her colorful feather boa/cape situation. “I think there is no limits.”  She had almost Rapunzel long hair extensions and a spectacular floral and feathers arrangement on top of her head.

“What was your inspiration for tonight’s spectacular look?”

“I just wanted to match H, tonight is all about him, and have fun, so I let Alessandro do as he pleased, and Ale being Ale didn’t hold back.” she shared. “My youngest didn’t even recognized me.”

“You look one hot mama, it’s hard to imagine you have two babies, does Atticus and Talulah know they have the coolest mother?”Liza asked.

“H is the cool parent,” Y/n admitted with a found smile, “Atticus has some idea that his daddy is a rockstar, so Harry’s definitely the coolest in his eyes.” 

The Late Late Show | Team USA v. Team UK- Dodgeball w/Michelle Obama

“I am here to support Harry,”Y/n said to he camera as the teams stretched in the background, “he’s not a very gracious loser, and I mean, he’s in James’s Team against Michelle Obama, there is just no way that they are going to win this game.” 

“Babe, “ Y/n called from the sidelines after watching Harry be hit in the ‘1D’ “Are you okay, honey?”

“I want more kids… in the future,” the actress blushed slightly looking to the camera.

The Kelly Clarkson Show, Jan, 2020

“How old are your kids know?”Kelly asked.

“Atticus is three years old, and Lulah just turned two, the terrible twos, funny enough, Lulah doesn’t suffer from it, but Atticus haven’t got over it yet…”Y/n said with a smile as pictures showed up on the screen, her children faces always blurred or hidden.

“People say terrible two, but threenager is a real thing,”Kelly said seriously.

“Yeah, that’s what I heard,”The actress said. “But Lulah just turned two, and I think it might not have fully catch up with her yet, because as I was leaving the house today, she threw her first temper tantrum.” Y/n commented. “She was just, on the floor, crying her little heart out, and of course, Atticus didn’t like to be outdone, so he threw himself at the rug screaming bloody murder, and I just left them there for Harry to deal,” The young woman told Kelly. “I sounded so bad right now, but really, I am that mom that keeps trying to calm them down, and things just get worst because it becomes a competition between the two toddlers, while Harry is just chill, he sit on the couch and just watches them unamused until they organically stop.”

“They lay it on sometimes, like ‘why are you leaving me’”

“I thing is worst with Harry,”Y/n confessed, “I have no problem in admitting H is the favorite parent, like, they come to me for comfort and all the ‘mommy’ things, but Harry is their favorite.” She said with a smile.

“And you don’t feel jealous or anything…”

“No, because, to me, it just shows how much of na amazing daddy he is, and I just feel like: damn! I made a really good choice.”The crowd cheer. “It’s really validating and I am just proud of myself for my choice in partner and baby daddy.”

Hailey Bieber | Who’s in my Bathroom? April, 2021

“Do you get uncomfortable by the amount of female attention your husband’s get?” Hailey asked as they sipped their margaritas.

“So, I have two answers for those questions: I don’t get uncomfortable with his fans showing their love for him, it’s lovely to see the amount of love and devotion he inspires, and they have always been so welcoming to me.” She said looking at possible the only other woman in the planet that understood the level of craziness it was. “But I do get uncomfortable with women in the industry hitting on him, I am not even talking women our age, it’s like: cougar level, and very recently we had a very awful situation, where it was in a working environment with a power imbalance, and it just got too much, more people got involved, media attention happened, and at the same time we had to deal with this as a couple and as a family.”

“Does you ever wish you guys just had normal jobs and careers?”Hailey supports her face in her hand. 

“Never, no matter what, I can’t imagine Harry not doing what he does, and I would never no make the career choices I did, I love acting, I love singing and songwriting, and I love directing.” She says with conviction. “For me it was life changing, I came from nothing, my mom was a single mother waitress, raising three kids on a small wage salary and tips, Disney changed my life, it paid for our first house, for the seed money in my mother’s organic company, it paid my sister college.”

“Is it surreal that your children have a childhood so different from yours?”The blonde asks with a smile.

“They’re extremely privileged, my four years old the other day was like: mummy, why do we have so many houses? And Lulah was complaining the size of the Jet, because she wanted the ‘big plane’, and H was like: sugarcube, you don’t know what your are asking for.” Y/n said with a soft smile. “My children…they have a lot of rich people problems.”

The Drew Barrymore Show, Aug, 2022

“Oh My God, you look even more gorgeous in person.” Drew said as they created each other. 

“Thank you, thank you, have you look at yourself? I was obsessed with you growing up, it’s so amazing to be here.” Y/n said with a big smile, arranging the skirt of her dress as she sat down.

“You’re the face of a Dior perfume, a brand ambassador for Gucci, multi- award winning actress and musician, your under thirty with two Academy Awards, which is historical, you have two successful companies, you just came back a few months ago from a very glorious passage through Cannes where you  debuted Top Gun: Maverick, your own movie and you own Camera d’Ore for your debut feature, also: 14 minutes standing ovation, for a movie produced, directed, written and starred by women,” she stopped for a moment to allow the crowd to applauded the guest, “and then, your also a mom, to three children, and you’re married to Harry freaking Styles, the world’s biggest rockstar, and most wanted man according to Rolling Stones.”

“You just made me sound so cool.”The younger woman said with a small smile and flushed cheeks.

“You are cool.”Drew affirmed. “How do you balance it all?”

“I have a great team working with me, and I have just the greatest partner, and this is really important.”Y/n said crossing her legs. “We plan things in a way that the children will always have one of us 24/7 and in a way that we can always be together, his career is never more important than mine and vice-versa, we’re on tour now, Harry’s Love on Tour, I am a non-touring artist, but H really loves touring, is his thing, and it was important for him to have me and the kids together  with him on the road as his support system, and the children just love going to all the different museums, and seeing new things, and eating different stuff, but, during his tour break we’re moving to Australia because I have a movie that is going to be shoot there.”

“What is like going on tour with three young children under five?”

“It’s chaos, Atticus and Lulah have some understanding that this is daddy’s job, this is Atticus second tour, but for them is just fun, Riley is just a baby, she’s with me 24/7, shes our calmest child,” Y/n said. “She’s actually the same age that Atticus was during Live on Tour.”

“Riley is your quarantine baby…”

“I found out I was pregnant in February last year during Where the Crawdads Sing pre-production, so yeah, she’s kinda of my Covid baby.”

[st4rwon]

silent cry

bang chan x reader

in which you have been suffering in silence and one day chan finds out

contains: reader overworking themselves, stressed out reader, hurt/comfort, swearing (like once), uses of pet names (baby, babe, darling)

word count: 0.7k

everything was going wrong. papers were scattered all around your desk, the glowing of your laptop being the only thing lighting up the room, the ramen bowl sitting on the side of your desk, even though you have finished it hours ago. it was a mess, you felt like a mess. it has been like this for nights on end.

you heard someone start to unlock the door and quickly closed your laptop and ran you your shared bedroom. as you pushed yourself under the covers pretending to be asleep, you heard the footsteps coming closer and closer to the room. "they're asleep" chan said with a smile, he knew your overworking tendencies and was happy you were finally taking care of yourself. he pressed a kiss to your forehead and set his stuff down, then grabbing a change of clothes to put on after his shower. after he left the room tears streamed down your face, the guilt over taking your body. you didn't know what was worse you hiding the fact that you were stressing yourself out or the disappointment chan would have when he found out. it was only a couple more weeks of this tedious cycle before you could take a break from work. as much as you wanted to be open with chan and let him know all your worries, you knew that he would feel terrible about the state you put yourself in, you would never want to hurt the man you love most. so you suffered in silence.

you had started working the second chan had left the house, though he had left unusually late today. you started working again pushing yourself to your limit. today was the last day of this project, then you were done. though the amount of work you had left made you worry, how would you get this all done? was it even possible? you groaned in pain feeling the panting in your head, with you limited amount of sleep and countless hours staring at the documents your eyes couldn't stand the stain on them. before you know it tears fell against your face one again, but this time you were unable to stop. all the horrible pain you had was being let out of your body. you were crying so hard you didn’t even hear the door open and the steps that were taken to your work room.

“baby?” if the work you had piled up wasn’t enough to make you feel like shit, knowing that chan had now seen you in the state you had been trying to hide from him would. you quickly wiped the tears away from your face and pushed away the chocked sobs coming from you. “hey babe, you here early” you said trying not to cry even more. he walked closer to you, and engulfed you in his arms “please baby tell me what’s wrong” “chan i’m…o-okay. i swear” but your cracking voice had given it away. “you know i’m always here for you, you know you can talk to me.” “i know” “then why have you been hiding you pain from me” he said looking into your eyes “why are you trying to tell me your okay when you’re clearly not?” “i didn’t want you to worry, i’m sorry” you cried “don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault. but i can’t have you suffering alone, i’m here to listen you your worries, that’s what i’m here for. so please don’t hide your feeling away” you sobbed in his arms for a little longer, him eventually doing the same. knowing that you had been hiding this from him just because you didn’t want to bother him made chan feel horrible. “please don’t cry… i won’t do it again, i swear” you said brushing his tears away. you wrapped your arms around his body and gave him a kiss. “i love you channie, and i’m sorry i hid my feelings from you” “please darling, just don’t hurt yourself like this ever again” “i won’t”

the two of you stayed in each other’s arms for a bit before chan spoke up, “are you hungry? i got your favorite” “it must be cold now, i room so much of your time…” “anytime with you is time we’ll spent, and i’m happy we were able to talk things out.” he said with a smile “i’m so grateful to have you in my life, i love you chan” you said giving him a peck on his cheek, “i love you more babe” he said picking you up, “now let’s eat, i’m starving” you laughed in response. you felt like the luckiest person in the world knowing you had chan by your side.

a/n: a little self-indulgent, but just wanted to make a fic based off this song ^^

please don’t spam like posts, repost, translate, or use my work without my permission. all work is fictional and only used for entertainment purposes. © azurez 2023

[oddinary4bts]

A drabble with jungkook, smut 87 and angst 12 / 99, tysm 💘💘💘💘

I think this is like the first time I've written something on here that doesn't have a happy ending? Oop, beware

The Bane of Your Existence | jjk

☆pairing: Jeon Jungkook x female reader, mentions of Kim Taehyung x female reader

☆rating: 18+ (contains smut, minors DNI)

☆genre: college!au, smut, angst

☆warnings: unedited, mentions of getting ghosted by a friend, mentions of bullying, curses, alcohol, explicit content: nipple play, clit play, oral sex (female receiving), protected penetrative sex, hickey

☆word count: 2.6k

☆angst prompt 12: "You really were the worst thing to ever happen to me. I mean that."

☆angst prompt 99: "It could've been worse. We could've fallen in love."

☆smut prompt 87: "It's hot when you talk back."

☆The smut prompt is from this list and the angst prompts are from this one!

☆☆☆☆☆

If there is a thing that is true about Jeon Jungkook, it’s that he was born to be the bane of your existence. You’ve never liked him, he’s never liked you. All through high school, you hated each other. And when you got to college and had to attend the same one, the hate only grew.

It’s not that Jungkook is a bad person. He’s just always irked you, in all the worst ways. His presence annoys you, his dumb smiles and stupid smirks make you want to punch him. His explicit jokes and cocky remarks make you roll your eyes to the back of your head and, frankly, you really hate him. Abhor him, and all the worst words in the dictionary somehow apply to him.

It’s even worse when he’s assigned to be your partner in a project in one of your elective classes that he ended up taking too even though your majors have nothing in common. Because now you’ve suffered through hours of his annoying personality, and you’ve also just learned that he slept with your best friend last year, before she suddenly ghosted you.

She’s moved colleges now, and you’ve long moved on. But the reminder makes you see red, in that little study room where you’ve been for the last hour and a half.

“Fuck off,” you tell him, because some part of you refuse to accept it.

He smirks, tilts his head to the side. “What? Too hard to accept that some girls want to fuck me?”

You laugh, but it’s entirely devoid of joy. “With you? All of them are just stupid.”

“Right.” He still sports the annoying smirk and you really feel like punching him for it.

But you have a project to focus on, so you do that even though he keeps looking you up and down like you’re a piece of meat. He’s surprisingly intelligent though, and his insights on what to do are mostly good, so at least you get to advance on the project a lot.

You’re dreaming of your dorm bed, of hiding under the covers only to resurface when Jungkook will be gone from your life when a trio of girls open the door of your little study room, saying that they have reserved it for the next two hours.

Your eyes slide to Jungkook. “I thought you had booked it,” you tell him.

“I couldn’t, it was already booked,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m done anyway, we can finish some other time.”

You clench your jaw. “I’d really like to finish today, Jungkook. We’re almost done.”

“Then come over to my dorm,” he suggests, and he’s got a smirk on his lips when you offer him a glare as you’re putting your laptop in your backpack.

“Fuck off, I’m not going to go over to your dorm,” you tell him, slightly shaking your head in disapproval.

“I can go to yours if you prefer,” he suggests.

You really don’t, but your wish to finish the project is stronger. You know your roommate won’t be there – ever since she started dating someone that has an apartment not too far from campus, she’s been spending most of her time over at their place. So that’s how you find yourself sitting cross-legged on your bed while Jungkook is at your desk, shooting ideas as if you’ve never really hated each other after all.

You form a better team with him than you ever expected you would.

“What about this?” Jungkook suggests.

He sends you a link from an article he was reading, and you quickly skim over it. “It says the opposite of what we’re trying to explain.”

“I know,” Jungkook says. He sighs, picking up his laptop to move to your bed.

The sudden closeness makes you stiffen, a frown moving on your features, but he’s entirely immune to it as he points at a line on the screen.

He recites it, before adding, “See, it would be perfect”.

“You did not just find a single sentence that can be used?”

He furrows his brows as he meets your gaze. “Yes?”

You laugh, and it’s a little cold. “If the TA looks at the sources he’ll fail us.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes this time. He leans closer, which in turn makes you lean back. You’re very aware all of a sudden that one of his knees is brushing your leg, and your mouth slightly parts as if in anticipation.

“No TAs actually look at sources,” he says, head cocking to the side. “Especially not Namjoon.”

Right. Your TA is one of Jungkook’s friends anyway, which you reckon might be the reason why Jungkook took the class in the first place.

He sits back in his spot, and you take a deep breath as you straighten. “Right.”

He looks as if he was expecting you to talk back, but as you return to focusing on the project, so does he. You don’t see the time go, but at a certain point a loud rumble coming from Jungkook’s stomach has you ordering burritos. You’re almost done eating, surprisingly able to converse with Jungkook about high school without feeling like murdering him. He finishes his burrito first, and then he says, “Your teeth looked so weird when I met you”.

You cock an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Before you got your braces,” he says. “People made fun of you all of the time about it.”

You frown. “By people you mean you?”

He offers you a sweet, innocent smile as if he wasn’t your bully for years. “Yeah.”

It kills the conversation as you just stare at him, holding his gaze for a while. Your burrito is long forgotten in your hands when you blink, as if breaking out of a reverie.

“You were the worst person I knew, back then,” you tell him a little pensively.

“I was just teasing you! You always got worked up over nothing.”

You scoff. “You really were the worst thing to happen to me,” you tell him a little pensively. “I mean that.”

He looks insulted, somehow, as if he believes he’s the best thing to ever happen to everyone around him. You reckon he might actually believe that, with the size of his ego.

“That’s a bit excessive,” he says, a frown taking over his features. “It wasn’t like you were any better.”

“I treated you the way you treated me,” you drawl. “Didn’t like it?”

“I just thought…” he trails off, scoffing. “I just thought it was funny.”

“In what kind of sick and twisted world is bullying someone funny?” you ask.

He doesn’t reply. He just stares at a vague spot next to you, looking so conflicted you want to push him out of your dorm.

“I wasn’t bullying you,” he finally says, voice small.

“Fuck off, Jungkook, you were,” you snicker, a cold laugh falling from your mouth.

He meets your gaze then, and he looks so angry your eyes widen. “I didn’t realize that I was. What the fuck do you want me to do about it now?”

Your burrito suddenly catches your attention, because you’re too much of a coward to hold his gaze. “Maybe stop being an asshole?”

He chuckles bitterly. “I’m not an asshole. You’re literally the only person I know that thinks I’m an asshole.”

“Maybe because that’s the way you act with me, Jungkook! You’re always on my back.”

You see him rolling his eyes as you look up, your anger giving you enough courage to be able to hold his gaze.

He says your name like it’s an insult. “You’re the one that takes every opportunity you get to insult me,” he points out. “To call me a man-whore because I sleep around. What’s so wrong with having a little fun?”

“You rub it into everyone’s face!” you burst. “That’s what’s wrong.” You pause, and it’s your turn to chuckle bitterly. “And you fucked Nabi and she ghosted me.”

He purses his lips, glancing down at your chest. You’re wearing a turtleneck, so you know he’s not looking at your breasts. He’s just avoiding your eyes, and he suddenly seems extremely guilty.

“Not my fault,” he grumbles.

“Not your fault my ass!” You shake your head in disbelief. “What the fuck did you tell her to convince her to ghost me?”

“I called her by your name,” he admits, and he meets your gaze then. It’s a little intense, a little dark, and your heart misses a beat in your chest.

“You called her by my name? You’re so fucking weird.”

As you were speaking, Jungkook’s gaze trailed to your mouth. So he’s looking at your lips when he says, “It’s so hot when you talk back”.

You were about to insult him even more, but all you manage to choke out is, “What?”

His big doe eyes look up to meet your gaze, before dropping to your lips once more. “Every time we fight, I have to physically refrain from grabbing your face and kissing you stupid.”

You have no idea how the conversation got here. Only that it makes the very bottom of your stomach warm up. “What?”

“I want to kiss you,” he says, drawing out every syllable. “I’ve had a crush on you my whole fucking life.”

You want to punch him, to tell him he’s even more of an asshole than you always thought he was. All you can do is put your burrito to the side and jump on him, grabbing his face and clashing your mouth on his.

It’s so hard you taste a little blood, but as soon as your lips connect you lose sense of everything else. There’s just him and his lips and his large hands moving on every inch of your body, caressing you over your clothes before he feels emboldened and rids you of your shirt.

His mouth drops to your erect nipple then, and he murmurs that you’re beautiful as he sucks on it lightly, tongue flicking at it right as he pinches the other one. You moan, one hand going to his hair, pulling at the long strands.

He takes that as a cue to kiss you again and so he does, his tongue parting your lips until it’s lapping at your own. He swallows the sounds you make as his fingers move between your legs, blindly looking for your clit through the fabric.

He pulls away, letting out a frustrated grunt, and he tears his shirt off before helping you out of your pants and panties.

In less than five minutes you’ve found yourself entirely naked with the bane of your existence which, you reckon, feels way too good.

He’s quick after that. Quick to bury his face between your legs and pull an orgasm out of you. Quick to take off his pants as you watch his erection spring free. Quick to put on the condom he finds in his wallet, and quick to kneel between your legs.

He watches you as you rub your clit mindlessly, before pushing in in one powerful thrust, bottoming out when there’s still some of him left. You cry out, grabbing onto his thighs as he starts fucking you, quick and hard, and it’s no wonder you come again as he angles his dick to hit a sweet spot inside of you.

He comes into the condom as your walls pulsate around his cock, teeth digging in his bottom lip so hard you think he’s going to draw blood. He only relaxes his features once his dick stops twitching inside of you, and he’s quick to pull out.

And that’s how you start having sex with Jeon Jungkook. It’s an irregular schedule, with exams and part time jobs and parties and friends keeping you away from each other, but somehow you still find Jungkook buried deep inside of you a couple of times each month. You still hate him, hate the effect that he has on you, hate how he’s able to make you beg for it.

It all culminates on a late February evening, when he arrives to your dorm two hours after he said he would with a bright red hickey on his neck.

“What the fuck is this, Jungkook?” you ask him, pointing at the proof he was with someone else. “You’re still fucking other people?”

“Are you not?” he asks, rubbing his neck. “You keep insisting that it’s just sex. Why do you even care?”

You fold your arms on your chest, taking a few steps away from him. “It’s just weird. When did you fuck her?”

You hear him scoff. “I didn’t fuck her. We just made out.”

“As if that makes it any better,” you drawl.

“You’re so fucking confusing,” he complains, with an edge to his voice. “What the fuck do you want from me?”

“Nothing,” you tell him, surprising yourself when you realize it’s true. “I’m done with you.”

“Fuck off,” he spits. “You’re just throwing a little jealousy fit because you can’t admit to yourself that you care about me.”

You laugh, a joyless sound that feels like nails on a blackboard. “The funny thing is I really don’t. I don’t give a fuck who’s under you, Jungkook. As long as it’s not me anymore.”

“What? You’re just going to end things like this?”

You nod, finally turning to look at him. He’s scowling, eyes burning with unhinged anger.

“Yeah,” you tell him. “Leave, Jungkook. The project was last semester, this has lasted for way longer than it should have.”

“Alright,” he snickers. “Suit yourself.”

And then he’s gone, not once looking back at you. It hurts to watch him go, somehow, and you curse yourself, force yourself to forget about him. It works – you barely even see him on campus to begin with anyway. So much so that, eight months later, you’re dating Kim Taehyung, an exchange student from Korea, when you actually run into Jungkook for the first time again, at a bar you don’t usually go to.

You’re at the bar, ordering drinks for you and Taehyung who went to the bathroom when Jungkook approaches you.

“Haven’t seen you here before,” he drawls, leaning on the bar. “What’s bringing you here?”

“A date,” you reply truthfully. “If you even know what that is.”

He furrows his brows, rolling his eyes. “You haven’t changed.”

“Okay, Jungkook.”

He remains silent for a time, and then his expression relaxes. You don’t like the way he’s looking at you, doe eyes turning nostalgic. Especially not as he says, “I wish we had ended things on better terms”.

You chuckle bitterly. “Sorry, Jungkook.” You pause, looking towards the bathroom as you see Taehyung walking out. You direct your gaze back to Jungkook before speaking again. “It could’ve been worse. We could’ve fallen in love.”

And then you’re receiving your cocktail and Taehyung’s beer, so you walk away, not once looking back towards Jungkook.

Little do you know that Jungkook fell in love, all those months ago. Tried to forget it with someone else, only to have it backfire in his face because of that stupid hickey. So, he watches you go, feeling sick to his stomach, then figures that getting drunk and fucking a stranger should help him forget.

He knows it never does, but it’s all that he knows how to do.

[crabonfire]

TSSM DOC OCK WITH TALL (average) S/O WHO USES HEIGHT ADVANTAGE TO FLUSTER!!

Pre and post octofication? If possible?

I wanted to request but didn’t get the confidence until you started demanding TSSM requests :)

Hope this is ok!

OH LETS FUCKING GOOOO TSSM REQUEST BABEYYY

Taller!S/O flustering TSSM Doc Ock!

character: pre and post accident TSSM Otto Octavius

note: babe don’t be nervous!! I’ve been into spider-man and tssm related shit for years now, I just never thought anybody would be interested in my work. I’d love more tssm requests!! It’s my main interest now anyways :)

anyway, request away!!! hehe :)

ALSO I love pre accident otto he’s so cute :(

last note, I wanted to add some uh, tiny, tiny TINY bits of lore between the two of you in the pre octofication, just to make it more interesting :D!

warnings: none, fluff :)

♡Otto Octavius♡

- He was always a pretty insecure man in terms of how he’d look, (and his personality too aw man) he always saw his body as something he wasn’t proud of. People under minded him for it, especially at work. Which is why he was surprised to find out you really liked him. When you had asked him out he asked multiple times with a red face, “Y-You’re joking!” or “Did someone put you up to this?”

But when you smiled at him so genuinely, shaking your head no and telling him you liked him…he felt like he was going to burst.

- When you two started dating, he found it a bit hard to make eye contact for very long. For he found that he’d get lost in your eyes, mesmerized by you completely. He was a shy man, and he never spoke his mind much when it came to how you made him feel. He was always quite flustered with you.

When you realized this, you started to use it to your advantage.

- On one occasion, he was in his office, typing away and sorting through files on his latest project. After hours of working he had finally stepped out to get a drink from the kitchen. You decided to try and stall him a little, maybe convince him to take a break. You had him backed up to a wall, hand resting beside his head, as you leaned down to his face. His cheeks are as red as tomatoes, looking at you mouth agape and eyes widened. You can’t help the smirk that forms on your face, eyes gazing at him intensely.

“Otto.”

“Y-Yes?”

You tilted your head a bit, blinking, still staring at him. The tension is killing him, your so close he can feel you breathing.

“Take a break hon, you’ve been cooped up in that desk for so long…”

He huffed, looking awkwardly at the floor. “Oh, I mustn’t…it’s I-important I finish this..” you took your hand, taking his chin to face you again. You frowned slightly, “But I miss you. Just one break, please?” He blinks, his lips quivering trying to find the voice to deny you. He swallows, “W-Well…I guess one break w-wouldn’t hurt.” He mutters. You smile at him, leaning in to kiss him, which he immediately returns. When you pull back you can see the slightly disappointed look on his face. You quickly step back with a whole different mood, grinning at him. “Great! Come sit with me, I was watching a movie.” You walk over to the couch, leaving him speechless as his heart doesn’t stop its pounding.

He’s flustered, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he stands there wondering what the fuck just happened to him.

- He found himself in this situation many times, pinned to a wall or how your head rested on-top of his with arms wrapped around him, engulfing him in a hug.

And every single time he couldn’t help the red that’d seep to his cheeks, the racing of his heart and and the wanting to drop everything he was doing to look up at you all day.

Oh yeah, he has to look up when he talks to you. It’s adorable 😭

♡Doctor Octopus♡

- No longer has he have to suffer the neck pain of looking up at you, because now… HE HAS HIS OCTOPUS ARMS!!

- But on the rare occasion where he’s just standing like a normal guy, you always take your chance to try and fluster you like you did before. This time, he’s not so shy about his feelings.

- You’d have him pinned against a wall just like before, it was difficult to get into this position but you did.

“Hey doc.”

He smirks, “What’s this, Y/N?”

You mirror his smirk, “What ever do you mean, Doc? I’m just, having a conversation with you.”

He chuckles, shaking his head and looking up at you with tinted cheeks. “I see. My apologies, I just never considered being pinned to a wall was a way to talk to somebody.”

“Oh, so this your first time?” You snickered at your own dumb joke, he found that cute.

“No, I’m very well experienced actually.”

You laughed. You rested your other hand to the other side of his head, trapping him in as you leaned down to kiss him. He kissed you back, passionately and slow. One of his hands had cupped your cheek, the other firm against your chest as his receptors pulled you in. He felt himself melt whenever he’d kiss you, even with his newfound confidence he still never got rid of that sweet ache in his chest. When you pulled back, before you could say anything, he flipped you over.

Now you were the one pinned to he wall, his receptors lifted him slightly to be eye level with you, a hand over your head as he leaned while the other had held your chin pinched between his pointer index and his thumb. He had an obnoxious smile on his face when he saw how your face reddened, eyes wide in surprise. He chuckled, whispering in a low tone;

“What about you Y/N, is this yours?”

♡♡♡

spot the harness your hopes refrence and I'll give u a cookie :)♡

HOPE U ENJOYEDDD request more tssm shit I love them

[sugawhaaa]

JUNHAN X READER

Communication

Disclaimer~this is a complete work of fiction and is not intended to offend anyone! This is just for pure imagination and creativity

Genre~smut (dom!) Junhan x (sub!) Reader

Warnings~suggestive (like right from the start)

Word count: 2,045

A/N: I totally didn't write this on the bus, at school and right next to my parents 😍 anyways I've been working on this Junhan fanfic for a LONG time and I just never got a good time to really work on it so it's kinda bad 😭 I overall like it and hope you do too <3

Synopsis: You have been horny ever since Junhan changed his hair color but you could not muster up the confidence to tell Junhan your need for attention until he did it for you.

You stood in front of Junhan hair spraying his bangs as he held his eyes closed to avoid the spray getting in his eyes. You adjusted his soft black hair a little before spraying once again. Today they were doing their photoshoot for their comeback hello world. It was an all white room paired with a lot of studio lights and projections. Junhan was in his assigned all red outfit with slightly crimped hair and a lot of jewelry. You told him you were finished and he opened his eyes. His relaxed, hooded eyes met yours and you felt your heart skip a beat.

Junhan's new hair was so good looking you swore you fell for him all over again when you saw he changed it. Admittedly you've been horny all the time since he changed his hair. It wasn't because of his hair, it was just a coincidence. Despite your intense need for attention lately you refused to tell your boyfriend. Last time you did anything sexual it was so awkward, not that he didn't make you feel good (those fingers are laced with magic no doubt) but you felt he didn't actually want to please you. He just silently did as you asked with no reaction really. And even when you gave him a handjob he hardly even made a sound. Now for his sake you choose not to tell him and just suffer through your needy state. 

"Something wrong?" Junhan asked you softly. You snapped out of your dirty thoughts. 

"Sorry, nope! Everything's great," you smiled reassuringly though your tightly pressed thighs would suggest otherwise. 

"Okay. Just remember if somethings wrong tell me please," he said sincerely and you just nodded. 

Meanwhile the other members watched painfully from afar. Gaon sighed heavily. Making his hyungs ask what was wrong.

"Oh it's nothing, just those two," he shook his head and looked up at you two. Ode stopped taking selfies and turned to Gaon.

"What do you mean? They look fine," Ode commented.

"Are you crazy? It's so obvious she's craving attention and he's just not picking up on it," Gaon pointed out. The members looked confused

"What do you mean? I don't see it," jungsu shrugged. Gunil sat down next to jiseok on a little bench.

"Just look at her body language, look really hard," Gaon said pointing towards you and Junhan. Jungsu, Gunil and Ode all looked at you two intensely. "First of all her outfit is rather revealing and attracting, she's trying to make as much physical contact as possible without making it weird," Gaon was able to point out almost everything "Oh and of course the thighs never lie," 

"Wow you sure know your stuff Gaon," Jungsu said surprised "usually your so shy when it comes to this stuff,"

"What stuff?" Gaon laughed awkwardly.

"Girls." The members said in unison. It was undoubtedly true, Gaon could hardly speak to you when you first started hanging out with them outside of work and you found it hilarious which made him more awkward. 

"That's not true!" Gaon protested "anyways, do you guys see what I mean though?" Jiseok quickly changed the subject. 

"I see it, one hundred percent," Gunil nodded and the other members agreed.

"This is getting painful to watch," Ode pinched in. The members started whining and freaking out and it finally caught the attention of you and Junhan. You were holding both hands in each other's hands when you heard Gaon groan loudly, making Junhan's gaze snap right over to him. Gaon tried to act surprised when he noticed Junhan staring at him.

"I should probably go with them, I think we're gonna start group photos soon," Junhan said calmly. 

"Alright I'm going to do something about this! I'm going to have a little talk with those two," Gaon smiled at the boys and they all nodded in agreement and determination. That's when Junhan came over to the members and Gunil and Jungsu took this as their time to talk to you. 

You were admiring Junhan slightly zoning out as your eyes scanned him up and down. Daydreaming about him of course, that's when Gunil surprised you. "So," he said, "how has your relationship with Junhan been?" Gunil asked out of nowhere. You were shocked to hear something like that so out of the blue. 

"Um it's been good," you blankly lied. It wasn't a complete lie but still you weren't speaking your mind.

"You sure? You can tell us, we won't utter a word to Junhan if you don't want us to "Jungsu persuaded you. You thought for a moment before deciding to screw it. I'm gonna tell them because they're very trustworthy.

"Well if you want me to be honest I've been a little frustrated lately. I've been really needy and I want Junhans help but I just can't ask him to help," you were happy to finally get that off your chest to someone. The other two on the other hand seemed surprised at your honesty. 

"Why won't you just, you know, tell him?" Jungsu asked as you started walking to put away the hair spray and combs you had from earlier and the boys followed you.

"If you want me to be honest it's because I don't think he'd want to help," you said calmly as you put the combs on one of the desks. 

"Why wouldn't he? He's your boyfriend!" Gunil said as Jungus nodded intently showing him agreement with Gunil. You sighed.

"I don't feel comfortable telling you everything but, to say the least, last time he didn't seem to enjoy it," you explained. The boys seemed confused.

"Well you could try again," Jungsu suggested and you just shook your head.

"It'd be too awkward and I'd be too tense. You can't change my mind so stop trying," you said, sitting down and taking a sip of your coffee.

"Okay but you don't have to be rude about it!" Gunil complained and you laughed.

"Sorry I didn't mean it like that," 

•《Junhan POV》•

I walked over to reunite with my members but when I got there I was not expecting to hear this.

"So Junhan," Gaon said, looking up at me. "What's the scoop on you and Y/N?" He said as if it were a very important question. I mean of course Y/N is important to me but it seemed like he was collecting info or data like a detective.

"Um I don't know," I said sitting down next to him. I wasn't sure what he meant so I didn't know how to answer properly.

"How have you been treating her? How has she been treating you?" He asked using more information this time. I explained everything to him, not in great detail but just what was happening. She had been confusing me lately, she was acting differently. Not mean per se but just different I don't know. "I see," Gaon said once I finished explaining. "Well have you, I don't know, given her much attention lately?" He asked.

"Well yeah," I said looking down at my hands continuing to fiddle with them as we talked.

"I mean like…" Jiseok said before pausing. "Sexually?" After he said that I got embarrassed, my face was heating up very fast. 

"Well no, but she hasn't asked to and I don't think she'd want to," I said. The last time we did anything sensual she didn't seem to enjoy it much. She was very vocal and loud but physically she didn't seem very interested. She hardly even cummed. 

"Why not!?" Ode immediately asked. And I explained to them my reasons. They told me to just "give it another shot" and maybe try something a little different? Maybe talk more to her or try different tactics. But how was I supposed to know what she likes? Does she like praise or teasing? Or perhaps degrading? What if she preferred me to be quiet? What if she likes a little pain? Or what if she doesn't? There's just too many questions and I don't know how to get an answer to.

•《your POV》•

After the photoshoot it was time to go home and after some advice from Jungsu and Gunil you decided you would try to talk to Junhan. Communication is key in a relationship. So you had a script in your mind of what you were going to say. Something along the lines of.

"So Junhan I've been thinking lately that we haven't done anything sexual in a while and I was wondering if you'd want to?" Something kind of like that. Although now that you're thinking about it…it's kinda cringy. Man, why is communicating so hard sometimes? You sighed. 

"Something wrong?" Junhan immediately asked. You were eating dinner with the crew when you were going over your script.

"Um nope everything's great!" You said cheerfully.

"Okay," Junhan said, clearly not convinced you were okay. You finished eating dinner and decided you were going to ask Junhan to talk in private but everything just kept getting in the way of you asking him so it was about 7 o'clock when you finally got to ask him

"Junhan," you said softly tugging on his purple sweater. "Can we go talk? In private?" You spoke softly and avoided his gaze. 

"Sure," he said, going into your shared room. You walked in first and stood in the center of the room. Junhan latched the door and turned to you. "So you wanted to talk?" He said calmly and that's when you forgot your entire script. 

How did it go again? You thought to yourself as your face started heating up. You stammered out an answer. "Well I wanted to talk about…" you were too embarrassed and him looking at you did not help. Tears started pricklying at your eyes like needles. You were just so frustrated that you couldn't verbally say what you wanted but you needed it now. That's when you noticed Junhan's gaze getting more concerned. 

"What do you need?" He asked you coming in for a hug. You wrapped your arms around his neck and barrier your face in his shoulder. 

"You," you said basically whining. Junhan let out a "hm?" Sound basically asking for you to elaborate. "I need you," 

"Need me to what?" He asked sweetly, petting your head.

"Need you inside me," you said embarrassed and instantly shoving your face back into his shoulder. You could feel his body relax at your words, his shoulders fell back down and his breath slowed. 

"I can do that." He said blankly. And you looked up at him letting go of the hug. You were surprised and happy. There was no big explanation, he just knew what you wanted. As you were smiling up at him he pounced on you. His hands aggressively grab the sheets at both sides of your body. You laid on the bed looking up at him with your hands above your head. He smirked a little before grabbing both of your wrists with one hand and pulling them together, holding your hands together. Your face remained shocked as his other hand worked quickly to remove your clothes. Unzipping your tight skirt at your hip before sliding it off you. 

"I only have one request," he whispered in your ear as his hand played with the hem of your panties. "As long as you tell me how much you like it. Otherwise I'll punish you,"

[scarletsaphire]

Danny missed last gym class through no fault of his own, which is normally fine. It’s just that now they’re putting the self defense moves to work, and Danny’s been paired with Valerie. Great; guess he’ll be getting his ass kicked by her twice in one day.

--

@phicphight fic 3! This one is for @tourettesdog and @lovelyunknown! Prompts used are at the end.

"Mrs. Tetslaff. Mrs. Tetslaff please you don't have to do this," Danny begged.

"Shut it, Fenton," she said, not even sparing him a glance. "Partners are final, no swaps. Besides, being with Gray will do you some good. Maybe if she tosses you around enough, you'll put some effort forward in my class." She chuckled, before turning back to the rest of the class and bringing the whistle to her lips.

Danny made his way back to Sam and Tucker's side as she finished announcing the rest of the pairings. "As if I don't already get my ass handed to me by Val enough. Now I get to experience it in class too."

"If it makes you feel any better," Tucker replied. "I'm also going to get absolutely destroyed."

"Damn right you are," Sam nodded. The two of them had been made partners, probably because Mrs. Tetslaff knew that she wouldn't hold back. Tucker knew it too.

"That does make me feel a bit better," Danny admitted. "At least I won't be suffering alone."

"Okay everybody!" Mrs. Tetslaff's voice cut through their conversation. "Gather with your partners; I'll be coming around to monitor you all, but other than that, its a free for all. Use whatever moves you remember from our self defense class yesterday."

Danny nodded along with the rest of the class before making his way over to where Valerie was standing on the side of the gym. He held up his hand in a not quite wave as he approached, which Valerie returned.

"Hi."

"Hi."

This conversation was going just as well as he thought it would.

"Do you want to start on the offensive?" Valerie asked.

"Uh, yeah. Sure. I can do that. Unless you want to go first?" Danny asked.

"I've been taking karate since I was five. I don't need the practice. You do," Valerie replied. "Besides, even if you do manage to land a good hit, I can probably handle it a lot better than you can, and I don't want you using a bruise to try and get out of this."

Danny hesitated. He could handle this just fine; he'd tussled with plenty of bigger threats before, even without his ghost powers. Hell, he tussled with Val every night, albeit with the aforementioned ghost powers, when the red-gray of her suit blended in with the regular gray clouds and night sky. He wasn't worried about getting hurt.

What he was worried about was the fact that he didn't remember a single thing from his last gym class. Dash had locked him in the locker right before, and then Johnny and Shadow showed up, and they were always time consuming to deal with. Even if dealing with them this time looked a whole lot more like buying them a milkshake.

Either way, by the time he'd managed to make it back to the school, the class had been almost completely over, and the only thing he managed to see was Sam suplexing Tucker onto the mat, which, according to Tucker, hadn't even been a move they were supposed to be practicing. This meant that Danny was yet again stuck in the predicament he was in every single time he had to do anything in this Ancient's forsaken class: how much could he actually, realistically do?

The answer was always a resounding not much. He could normally fake it pretty well, but when he didn't know what he was supposed to know? It became a whole hell of a lot harder.

"Actually..." Danny started slowly.

"You forgot, didn't you?" 

Danny rubbed at the back of his neck.

Valerie rolled her eyes, and the faintest hint of a smile played across her face. "I guess that means I'm going first."

"I guess so."

"Okay, I'm going to do this slowly, so try and pay attention." Valerie made her way directly in front of him. "Hold your hands up like this." Danny copied Valerie's pose, one very different than he'd seen her take during the night. Probably because she didn't have any guns. "You ready?"

Danny gave one nod. He’d barely finished moving his head before Valerie was lunging towards him, fists flying towards his face. It was a conscious effort to not turn intangible, which meant that he didn’t have the brainwidth to try and clock the hit, or dodge out of the way, or do anything that didn’t result in a fist to the face. 

It was good to know Valerie hit hard , even without her suit. 

Danny stumbled backwards, blinking stars out of his vision, hand coming up to his nose that he knew was bleeding. It wasn't broken, at least.

"Oh shit," he heard Valerie say, and in an instant she was by his side. "I did not mean to hit you that hard I swear."

Danny waved her off with his free hand. "Yeah, well, I'm the one who stood there like an idiot." He removed his hand from his face, looking down at it. Yeah, he was definitely bleeding. "I'll be fine."

He looked to her when Valerie didn't give an answer, and was surprised to see her staring down at his hand in shock. "Valerie?" he asked tentatively. Still no answer. "It was an accident, you didn't mean to-"

He was cut off by Valerie grabbing his wrist and dragging him towards the doors of the gym. "Wh- Val! What the hell?" he asked.

"We need to have a talk. Now." Her voice was steely, a tone he couldn't remember her ever using with him. At least, not with human him. It was enough to shut up any future protests, and he allowed himself to be dragged along obediently.

They kept going even after they were out in the hallway, down a few doors until they got to a storage closet that Danny knew was mostly empty. Valerie pulled the door open and shoved him inside, slamming the door behind her.

Danny had absolutely no idea what was happening. 

"I think you have some explaining to do," Valerie said with her arms crossed and her foot tapping a hasty rhythm on the tiled floors.

"I'd love to, I really would, but I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," Danny asked, raising his hands in mock surrender.

"Oh? Then how are you gonna explain that?" She titled her head towards Danny's bloody hand.

"You punched me in the face!" Danny answered. "Nose bleeds happen when people get punched in the face!"

By her sharp inhale, it was clear that wasn't the answer Valerie was looking for. "It's green Danny."

"Oh." Danny brought his hand back around in front of him, squinting at the now dried blood stain. It looked more like a red-gray than a green-gray to him, but then again, there wasn't much difference between shades of gray. "I didn't know that."

"How do you not know that your blood is green?"

"Frankly, I didn't know my blood was red until I was like. Eight years old. So this isn't the first time this has happened!"

Valerie took a deep breath and brought her hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose. Uh-oh. Danny's natural defense was getting on her nerves. That never ended well. "Ok, your idiocy aside, why the hell is your blood green?"

"That. Is a very good question!" 

Danny ran through every possible excuse he could think of. Some of them might've worked if it was literally anybody else who had figured this out, but Valerie wasn't just some random student who would believe "Fenton Weirdness" as a catch all excuse. She had experience with ghosts, and ectoplasm, and more importantly, was also exposed to the same technology Danny would normally blame this on.

"Would you believe me if I said I snorted ectoplasm before class?"

"Not when you say it like that."

"Well, crap."

--

TourettesDog - Danny is red-green colorblind. This never caused him much trouble before the accident, but now, well… It would have been nice to know beforehand that his blood was the wrong color. LovelyUnknown - Danny's identity is found out in the funniest way possible.

[wlfhrdlover]

omg can you please fem!reader who has low iron and she almost faints but Ajax helps her !! 🤗

YES I DEFINITELY CAN

i suffer with low iron too and literally 10 minutes before you sent me these I almost fainted in the middle of my living room 😩

please don't try to dance with your siblings when you just woke up

DIZZY

Ajax Petropolus x fem!reader

summary: you had a lot of things to deal in your week and completely forgot about your condition. Ajax was there to help you.

WARNINGS! mentions of fainting, nosebleeds, anxiety, overthinking, briefly mention of trouble parents.

Exams week.

You hated exams week.

Your parents always made sure that you were the perfect and top student, only the highest grades and the best projects, assignments or anything, they just wanted to see you studying.

If you got an A- or even worse, a B+, it would start a huge fight, one that you always ended up crying and blaming yourself for failing.

But of course, you had your boyfriend to help you in times like this, not that you would listen to him, but you appreciated how Ajax sat with you and made sure that you were at least drinking water properly.

— My beautiful and lovely girlfriend- Ajax pleaded and you frowned looking up from your books- Can you for the love of Zeus take a break? You've been studying for...- he looked at his phone- 5 hours! And you didn't even touched your water!- he panicked.

— I'll eat something in a minute baby, I just really need to finish reading this- you pecked his lips and he sighed.

— Fine, promise?- he asked and you nodded.

— Promise my love- he smiled and hugged your waist.

You pulled an all night study session and of course you forgot to eat and take your supplements, truth be told, you definitely forgot about your condition.

Your iron deficiency were the reason that Ajax was always worried about the exams week, he would always remind you to at least take your supplements, but you were stubborn and forgot things way too easily.

So when you finally finished the last test and got up, everything hit you like a truck.

Your head almost exploded when you walked to your teacher's table, she smiled while taking your paper.

When you started to walk you more and more felt dizzy, but then your phone almost bursted with messages.

Your parents.

They started to bombard you with questions "how it went?", "you made sure to get only the right answers?", "did you studied enough?".

It plagued your brain and you could feel your lungs aching, what if you failed?

What if you really failed all of your tests and your parents would get disappointed again?

Everything seemed to spin around you.

You didn't eat, you didn't took your supplements, you barely slept in the last 2 days that were the time Ajax didn't checked to see if you were taking care of yourself.

And now your overthinking and anxiety bursted you.

The lack of oxygen in your body being noticed far away.

Ajax walked out of his class and his eyes quickly spotted you, you were frozen in the hallway, eyes almost closing, way more pale than usual, legs shaking.

— Shit- he whispered and Kent jumped when Ajax dropped his things and ran in your direction.

Fortunately he got there in time, your body failed on you, Ajax quickly held you when your vision darkened, the well known dark circles made your head hurt.

— It's okay, it's okay- Ajax said more to himself than to you, he slowly and gently laid you down on the floor.

He saw this happening way too much times to not know how to deal with it, Ajax even took time to talk with the Nevermore's nurse to know what to do in case you fainted in front of him again.

He unbuttoned your blazer and loosened the tie, unbuttoning the first two buttons of your shirt.

Curious eyes and bodies moved in their way but Enid and Kent who were nearby and noticed what happened were quickly to shoo them away.

— You're okay my love, do you want some water?- Ajax asked quietly seeing that you were slowly coming to your senses again.

— Yes- you muttered and he helped you up, he waited a minute to see if it was safe to sit you up, you held his arm tightly and blinked but nodded, he used his own body to help you, your back on his chest as Ajax held the water bottle for you.

— Can you stand up?- he asked but he got his answer immediately when your nose started to bleed- Okay, I need to pick you up, is that okay?- he asked and you nodded holding your nose.

Ajax tried to not move you so fast when he picked you up, you laid your head on his shoulder and he calmly but quickly got you in the nursery.

Ajax massaged your scalp as you leaned closer on his body.

— You scared me for a minute- he whispered.

After a whole round of supplements and iron-rich food you found yourself in Ajax's room, more specifically, on his bed, laying on his chest.

— I'm sorry- you muttered and he kissed your head.

— I told you to eat love, you know how bad they can get if you don't- he said and you nodded and sighed- I know that your parents are full assholes but you need to think about yourself first, I really worry about you, you know that right?- you smiled and looked at him.

Ajax's free hand were caressing your waist in comfort, your skin were warm now but he shrived when remembering how cold you were earlier.

— I love you Jax, I'll try to take care of myself so I don't worry you again- you said and he kissed your lips.

— You worry me every day because I love you, but it's far from pleasing seeing you pale and cold with a nosebleed, so for the sake of your beautiful boyfriend, you better start to take care of yourself- he said and you laughed, he smiled.

— Beautiful boyfriend yeah?- you teased and he laughed, flipping your bodies around so now he was hovering over you, you smiled and took his face between your hands.

— Is that the only part you got, pretty girl?- he asked and you only giggled, he started to attack you with kisses and you laughed the whole night.

You absolutely loved Ajax.

[idesofrevolution]

The Architect

It was supposed to be my magnum opus. Ravenswood- my last creation and my forever home. For years I had suffered and degraded myself in firms filled with peons who wouldn't know architectural integrity if it hit them on the nose, and when I finally finished that last project, it took all of fifteen minutes for me to type up my resignation and slap it on the boss' desk. I'd gotten the severance I'd worked nearly 31 years for, and had built up the name Drake Astramore to a prominent name in the business. Finally, I was free. Free to create unrestricted by the trivial boundaries set by those beneath me.

Work was slow in the beginning, my modern designs never seemed to convey the right mood or tone which I was seeking. Completely dejected, I resorted to corresponding with a peer of my own caliber who specialized in Eastlake-Tradition Victorian revival: James Lafreniere. The man was perhaps in his late 80's, far past his prime, but I did value his insight purely to help spur some sort of creative spark. He insisted on a large, rambling estate on a large plot just outside the city. He envisioned towers, stained glass, mahogany... some vacuous opulence that did not speak to my taste whatsoever. I was unconvinced, I saw Victorian architecture as tasteless fluff and ornamentation. Though, as old Mr. Lafreniere pushed, I suppose I did cave in quite a bit. His design was based on some sort of "sacred geometry" he'd studied while in Haiti some time ago. The man was a dog with a bone, frantically trying to persuade me into confirming his "spiritualist" idea for the house. The more he pressed, the less I firmly stood my ground. After all, I was happy with the layout he'd drafted and with my final additions and perfections to his concept, I was satisfied.

Thus, on that foggy winters day, a mere week or two since old Lafreniere was dead and buried, the house was nearing completion after nearly 13 months. I was coming in to do a final inspection, specifically confirming the four crystal chandeliers that were to be placed in the ballroom. Reynolds, the contractor I had hired, went radio silent two days prior, and I was eager to give him a modicum of advice on professionalism. As I pulled up to the antique wrought iron gates, I was perturbed to see them still chained tightly with a large padlock. I had no key, and had no response from Reynolds. Just as I prepared to go to the local hardware store to purchase a pair of bolt cutters, I saw a bulldozer slowly meandering up the gravel driveway through the dense fog. Perhaps Reynolds hadn't abandoned me as I'd thought. Exiting the car, I stood behind the iron gates as the machine came to a halt just on the other side. The door opened and instead of the middle aged potbelly which I had hired, a young man with a peculiar look in his eye exited the vehicle and sat on the steps of the machine.

"Who are you?" The young man glibly chided from his perch.

"What the hell do you mean who am I? I am the owner of this property. Who are you?" He sat idly staring me up and down, some flippant smirk forming slowly on his face. He hopped down, his massive rubber boots landing in a puddle, splashing muddy water up and down his clothes.

"Mr. Astramore, I was wondering if I'd ever get to meet you in person." He sauntered over to the gates, unlocking the heavy padlock as the gates creaked open on their own. I hadn't recalled requesting hydraulic automation on the main gate, but I assumed incorrectly that it was part of the system I'd purchased. "The name is Jimmy. Reynolds proved to be... unreliable on the job. So the company sent me as a replacement. I'm surprised you hadn't heard."

"I most certainly have not heard. I should like to have known about staffing changes. He has completely ignored me for days now." The man looked down, chuckling under his breath.

"Yeah. The guy just up and left one day. Never called the company or anything. Just poof. Vanished." Contractors. The bane of every architect. Unreliable thieves, the lot of them. This young man certainly mimicked that aura of untrustworthiness, but as the job was nearly complete, I preferred at the time to simply allow him to finish. "The house is ready for you, sir. Take this, please let me know if you need anything from me, I'll be finishing the landscaping for the raingardens today." He pulled off a two-way radio from his belt, handing it to me. I could smell the putrid scent of hard labor wafting from him as I snatched the muddy radio from his sweaty hands.

"That will be fine, James." I huffed as I got back into my car, beginning the two minute trek up the driveway toward the house. As I passed him, I could see the filthy worker smile at me. There was something off about his presence, though at the time I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Again, I believe it was his eyes. So familiar, as if I'd known them myself for a time. As I left him behind in the dust of the gravel, I promised myself I would launch a complaint against these unprofessional ruffians the moment I could.

After weaving past the carefully planned and restored bayous, the white tower proudly peeked from above the tree canopy. The woodlands cleared and before me stood the massive edifice that was Ravenswood. It was primed white, awaiting the final paint job in dark greens and black which I had demanded. Yet another setback I was not looking forward to enduring. The elaborate trim graced the balconies and verandas which were perfectly calculated to receive the ideal amount of sun and shade during the hot Louisiana summers. Each glazed window was placed to maximize natural light in the house's otherwise dark confines. Perhaps Lafreniere was right- this was my masterpiece.

I put the car in park, and exited the vehicle. I stood and marveled at the house. On paper, it was grand and idyllic. In person, however, it took on a very different aura. Dark clouds and fog seemed to hang around the house, giving it a distinct sense of foreboding which I had not intended. Knowing funds were scarce as is, it was too late to change anything. This was to be my forever home, shortcomings and perfections alike. Pressing against the front doors, I entered the main hall, then aglow from the stained glass window and edison-bulb-illuminated chandelier. Lafreniere assured me that the house would be sufficiently lit, and that no dark corners would find their way into it's winding halls. I was disappointed beyond words to see that it was not the case.

The house seemed to breathe with a cold draft that whipped around the walls, just strong enough to notice, but not enough to disturb. While it was certainly built to my specifications, Ravenswood took on an identity of it's own before my eyes as it stood before me. Grumbling under my breath, I began my inspection.

Room by room, I went about with my clipboard and checklist. Bronze lightplates, check. Mahogany waiscotting, check. Brass and crystal chandeliers, check. From the library to the conservatory, the drawing room to the gallery; each room was just as I designed it, yet it seemed inundated with some indescribable weight which I had anticipated from the beginning. My modern, airy, open concept home which I had originally envisioned slowly simmered into flames before my own eyes. It was magnificent, yes. The house dripped character and ethereal essence from every nook and cranny. But was it an Astramore home? Certainly not.

Looking back, I should have left. I should have tossed the clipboard onto the dark herringbone parquet floors and stomped back to my car- back to the safety and comfort of my car. I should have driven away like a bat out of hell from this place and never returned. Yet, in my arrogance, I believed I could salvage it somehow. Thus, it was in that moment, as I was checking the finials on the grand staircase that I heard it. Groaning. Ever so quiet, yet echoing throughout the cavernous halls. I looked above me, my eyes tracking the noise further and further up the staircase onto the third floor. I assumed that it was emanating from the observatory in the main tower, though how I could have possibly known that I still do not know. I ascended the steps, slowly at first, toward the sound. Every creaking floorboard perturbed me, a new construction shouldn't behave as if it had stood for over a hundred years. This growing rage at the destruction of my vision translated directly into a quickening pace. My body seemingly did the work for me as I climbed faster, eventually skipping steps on my way to the high observatory.

Blinded by anger, I could not see the various shapes and figures which I had blown past on the landings, the dark shadows waiting in the corners and cornices. Every ounce of my being was focused entirely on releasing this pent up aggression, built within myself over decades, on whatever pathetic creature dared to whine within my walls. Arriving on the final landing, I burst through the door with the last of my strength.

The shutters in the observatory were drawn and shut, the unfinished plaster and floorboards were illuminated only by the dull light from the stairwell behind me. There, in the center of the room and crouched like a devious little gremlin was some degenerate young man. Tattoos sprawled across his lean body, and his greasy mop of hair obscured his line of sight. The man shielded his face from the gleaming light, as if burned by it's glow. His pants and shoes were weathered and well worn; scuffed, torn, and stained from what I can only assume was some ill-begotten lifestyle of antisocial youths.

"Get out!" I shouted at the boy, as he cowered on the sawdust-laden floor. His hand slowly retracted from his face, revealing what he was trying to conceal. Upon his inked face were two fully black eyes, which seemed to suck the remnants of light straight out of the room. They were empty, cold, and devious. This thing was not of this world, it was not of God, it was not of nature. I stood there, frozen in place as he stood up, easily a height of over 6 feet tall. My hairs stood on end, as he smiled down at me. I turned to run, but as I did, I was confronted by the grinning visage of Jimmy.

"Going somewhere, Astramore?" His eyes were black as night, just like the creature behind me. I couldn't speak, any word I tried to mutter was caught in my throat and merely exited as gasping utterances. Two icy cold hands slowly wrapped around my gut. I could only let out a whimper as I was sharply pulled back into the room as Jimmy leaned against the doorframe, his arms and ankles crossed comfortably as if nothing was out of place.

Tossed down onto the ground, my extremities pulled in every which direction as if bound by invisible leather straps. My clothes were ripped from my body, leaving me vulnerable and cold in the nude. The thing circled me like a predator observing it's prey. I thrashed against my constraints, spitting insults and threats with the last of my energy. I should have realized the intent of their misdeeds then and there. Blinded yet again, and for the last time by my own rage, I could not see... they were exhausting me. My strength depleted, my nerves shot, I was a mere shell of myself. This was their moment.

The thing stood above me, straddling my bony torso, as he slowly lowered himself atop me. With his cold fingers, nails black and skin dirty, he gripped the bottom of my chin, prying my mouth open. With a momentum far beyond the order of nature, his hand plowed directly into my open maw. It seemed to contract in on itself, as if he were not solid, but rather in a plasmic state of matter. As it squirmed deeper into my throat, the second hand fed itself into the orifice with ease. It felt as if I were drowning, yet could still breathe. It flowed like slime inside of me, pooling into my expanding stomach. I could hear myself gurgling and choking on him as his head squeezed into my mouth, the miasmic odor of unwashed manscent wafting from his acrid form. He slithered his entire form within me, my gut protruding more and more with his writhing shape beneath my stretching skin. As his lower half finally slid past my tongue, I could feel the rough texture of his denim pants scratch against my esophagus, I could taste the sweaty leather of his musky battered sneakers brush on my tongue until the last of the rubber sole slipped into my mouth; disappearing into my body.

Within me, I could feel him breathing. Expanding and contracting from beneath my skin. I could just barely cock my head down enough to see my grotesquely inflated midsection wriggling and pulsating. There was no pain, only tightness and fullness inside. From the doorway, Jimmy had lowered his coveralls down to his boots, pulled his rancid jockstrap to his knees, and was pleasuring himself with manic fervor. Whatever was happening to me was nothing short of pornography for him, he savored every moment with bated breath. Though I had no time to dwell on such displays of vulgarity and immorality. As quickly as the thing had entered me, it began to spread.

I cocked my head toward my arm, as I watched the protruding outline of the thing's hand slowly snake towards my own from under my skin. I could see it's added mass inflate my musculature as it slid effortlessly past my elbow and up my forearm. It's fingers pushed into mine like a hollow latex glove. His stature considerably larger than mine, I could see my entire arm stretch outward, and his own muscles falling into place within mine. In just a few seconds, my arm had grown, large biceps and colorful tattoos seeping up through my dermis until it was unrecognizable. I observed it in horror as I felt my second arm endure the same process, though my gaze was thoroughly cemented at the strong, youthful, virile arm which once was mine.

My legs soon followed suit, my thighs ballooning outward with firm slabs of muscle as the outline of the thing's massive feet barreled down toward my own. Hairs sprung up like weeds across my inflating calves and quadriceps, until I could feel the slimy pressure of his foot sliding into mine. My body again stretched to accommodate his frame, feeling the soles of my massive sweating feet slide across the hardwood floor until it was finally fully in place. My toes wriggled against my will. A stirring in my groin, and my worn hands pawing at my privates signaled his insertion there as well. Every slick sweaty pump of my member seemed to thrust his into mine further and further. It was quickly engorged, thick and dripping with pre as my balls swelled with his thick, unholy seed. The foreskin tightened around my tip, slick and dripping, and there was then only one part of me left that was untouched.

I could feel him pressing up my throat. It's head firmly making it's way up my esophagus, his face protruding from beneath my sweating skin. There was no fight left in me, all I could do was close my eyes and pray that oblivion was not as empty as I had assumed. With the very last of my strength giving way, there was no resistance as it's head shot up into my skull. Everything went dark almost immediately, there was no light, and an atonal ringing in my ears distorted the squelching and cracking noises I could faintly hear as it adjusted my face atop his. Feeling his plasmic form beneath mine, integrating itself into every possible crevice, nook, and space; it was maddening. I felt myself begin to drift away... disconnected from my corporeal tether. The last thing I could see before I finally wasted away into the unknown was my blurred reflection in the mirror, a face no longer my own, merely a shadow of who I once was. I bitterly accepted this fate. I let him have that sweaty, smelly, vulgar body... it was all his. The lights went out, and all was silent.

----

New Orleans Tribune, December 20th, 2022:

Local Architect Declared Dead After Week Long Search Efforts

Recent attempts to locate Drake Astramore (69) of Thibodaux have been called off by New Orleans authorities after a week of searching through the architect's sprawling estate. Neighbors to the gated complex reported faint screams coming from within the mansion, even from a 1/4 mile away, which led investigators to deliver a search warrant to the residence.

Upon arrival, authorities were met with the groundskeeper of the premises, James Lafreniere (25), who explained Astramore had disappeared during a routine inspection of the mansion, which was at the time nearing completion:

"He was only in there for a few hours. I wish I knew what could have happened to the guy. But I am so glad that his son has decided to take up the torch on the house. It wasn't all for nothing, then."

While Astramore had no family to speak of, the few who knew him personally described him as "difficult" and "degrading," often going to far lengths to place himself above others. In fact, a number of former coworkers at architecture firm Guillory, Darensbourg, & Combs alluded to mysterious dealings with an unidentified elderly man during the design phase of his home, described as having a "dark energy" about him. While there is no evidence to support foul play at this time, investigators have not ruled out furthering their analysis into these claims.

As for Ravenswood Estate, it has now fallen into the hands of the missing architect's son, Drake Astramore II (27). A self-proclaimed "spiritualist," the young man plans to give tours of the sprawling mansion dedicated to the mysterious and unusual process of design of Ravenswood. Joining with his partner in business and in life, James Lafreniere, the duo intend on opening a bed and breakfast type model for the horror inclined.

"I didn't know my pop all that much, he never really acknowledged me or anything. But I'm happy to show the world what he created. This place is special, it was designed to be special. There's an magnetism here that gathers together the essences of many, many of the dearly departed. If you don't believe me, come take a look. I'm happy to show you around. I guarantee you'll leave a completely changed person."

[heliossecretdeskdrawer]

Off The Clock

Continuity: IDW1

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: Megatron/Rodimus

Characters: Rodimus & Megatron

Warnings: Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Porn Without Plot, Masturbation, Voyeurism

Summary: In which Rodimus tries to ask Megatron something while he's off-shift.

Crossposting: AO3 | Dreamwidth Fic under cut. See AO3 for complete notes.

One of these days, Rodimus would learn to knock.

Unfortunately—or maybe it was fortunate, from a certain perspective—today was not the hypothetical day in question.

It seemed a little stupid, however, to be standing just past the threshold of his co-captain’s quarters with a datapad in hand while said co-captain was seated on the edge of his berth with a finger resting on his glowing anterior node.

Rodimus had been planning to ask him why Ultra Magnus had denied a line item on Brainstorm’s expense report for a recent project … uncharacteristically without comment. Usually any denials would be accompanied by several paragraphs of explanation, with relevant policies cited down to the specific relevant clause. The only possible explanation for this change in behavior must have been that Mags was suffering from some illness without telling anyone… anyone except his war criminal confidant.

Who was presently, uh, occupied.

And glaring right at him, finger frozen in place. Much like the icy bloom of embarrassment in Rodimus’s spark.

Mouth hanging open like a moron, Rodimus rifled through his processor to try and find anything to say, anything that could make up for just thoughtlessly bursting in on what was clearly a… delicate situation for his good buddy.

“Uh.” Not enough. “My bad.”

Nailed it.

Now to just step backward through the open door and not let his optics drift downward—The red glow from the partially obstructed node haloing the black finger, moist with lubricant, that had been caressing it was dangerously attention-grabbing. His feet were frozen to the floor.

The lubricant coating the finger and smearing the partially visible valve folds told him that Megatron had been at this for at least a several minutes… if not longer. It was possible Rodimus had walked in after an overload or two, but certainly not at the very outset.

“You constantly tell me to take time off.” Megatron scoffed, rolling his optics. “And then when I do, you show up to hand off work anyway.”

At least he only seemed to be mildly annoyed. Sometimes the glares were difficult to tell apart; “I’m tired and need a warm beverage” and “I’m listening intently to what you’re saying” and “I’m going to commit unimaginably violent crimes against you personally” all looked very similar. Though, to Megatron’s credit, the last one was more of an unlikely hypothetical these days and Rodimus knew that.

“… You know what, I’ll, uh… I’ll just ask you about this later. I can see that you’re busy.”

The automatic door slid shut behind him with a soft hiss; Rodimus hadn’t beaten the preset close timer. Sure, he could turn around and open it but that would be even more awkward than attempting awesomely moonwalk back into the hall. Which he totally could have done if he had been a nanoklik faster.

And not staring directly at the light under Megatron’s stalled finger.

His face felt warm.

His arms, now aching from being kept in a weird posture, were still held out at his sides from when he had first walked through the door, having stopped mid-stride.

“Do you think this is some kind of show?”

“I—No….” But if it was, he would consider watching.

“Then why are you staring?” That was a great question. “Surely, this is nothing you haven’t seen before; you’ve doubtlessly seen pornographic recordings of people pleasuring themselves. Hardly traumatic. Are you finished here?”

The finger continued to stay right where it was. Not even a twitch. That was some kind of discipline.

And from this angle, Rodimus couldn’t see anything more than the gentle curve of the front side of valve folds.

“If I said ‘no,’ would you be mad?”

The fingertip finally twitched against the smooth surface of the node. The heat from his face went immediately south, certain components throbbing behind their panels with growing interest.

“Not necessarily.”

Rodimus had worked with Megatron long enough to know that meant “no.”

“I’ll… uh… pull up a chair then.”

Rodimus tossed the datapad aside to clatter away on the floor before grabbing a chair from elsewhere in the room. He placed it squarely in front of the corner of the berth where Megatron had perched. A few paces between them to ensure a good view.

He had yet to decide how best to enjoy his good fortune, instead simply opting to let his knees fall widely apart… open to possibilities.

Megatron, however, hadn’t waited for him to get settled. His finger was already hard at work, slowly circling the node and leaving a wet smear in its wake. The light brightened as it was uncovered, now illuminating the soaked berth pad peaking out from underneath the valve folds, confirming Rodimus’s suspicions that he had showed up partway through the session.

“Have you already—“ “Only the once so far.” Then there would probably be a fair amount of show remaining, not that Rodimus knew how many times Megatron tended to overload during a session.

There was a brief, breathy laugh.

“I never took you for a voyeur.”

There was a flash of shame in Rodimus’s spark.

“What are you talking about? Everyone likes—”

Megatron just laughed again, not stopping the slow circling of his middle finger, the motion banishing Rodimus’s shame. The other fingers of his hand held the closest folds away from the node, but with this angle, they revealed nothing of the valve itself. That was still hidden underneath Megatron’s body as he remained sitting upright.

Rodimus pouted, his own hand just waiting on his own panels. He still hadn’t decided.

“I never took you for an exhibitionist.”

“I’m not.”

There probably would have been news reports during the war about it, now that Rodimus thought about it. It would have been hard to hide for someone already in the spotlight.

“Then what?”

“You’ll see.”

Rodimus hummed in doubt.

His own middle finger started mirroring the motion he was watching against the closed paneling of his array. That made it easy to make a decision.

He would choose solidarity then.

The panel retracted with a soft click and he let his hand slip down to pick up lubricant. It was tempting to lean over steal some of Megatron’s more than ample supply—and maybe give his node a flew playful flicks—but that seemed a little too forward.

Unlike Megatron, he also leaned back in the chair, leaving the entirety of his valve’s exterior on display. Modesty had already been thrown out the window.

With a grin, he started circling his own node, glowing orange in contrast to the red of his companion. A pleasant tingle began to build in his circuits, just beginning to soothe over the ache of arousal.

The speed of Megatron’s hand suddenly picked up, switching from circling to a simple up and down rub of the swollen end of the node with the slippery fingertip. The wet noise of the lubricant as it was pushed around echoed in the otherwise quiet room.

“Oh, now I see.” His own node throbbed under his hand at the sight.

“You yourself said ‘everyone.’” Megatron was interrupted by a soft, choked moan, like he had tried to hold it in. “This should hardly come as a surprise.”

More lubricant seeped out onto the berth pad, saturating it. His legs tensed and puffed out of his vents.

Rodimus could feel his gaze locked hungrily on the clumsy motion of Rodimus’s hand awkwardly trying to catch up. Megatron had had a significant head start.

Megatron shouted as his finger stopped rubbing, the node underneath pulsing against its captor.

For a few moments, Rodimus paused his own circling, watching Megatron’s hulking frame heave forward to ventilate as he remained precariously in place on the corner of the berth. What if it was over already? He certainly hoped not.

“Are you—“

With a shake of his head, Megatron thrust his middle finger downward, underneath to relubricate. The loud squelch and the slight lift of hips told Rodimus that he had gone directly to the source. While nothing was visible beyond the flex of Megatron’s wrist and the jump of his knuckle as the finger was repeatedly pumped in and out of soft silicone, Rodimus got the picture.

He opened his mouth to ask if he could see, but before any words could come out, Megatron’s hand retreated from its foxhole to once more massage his node.

It appeared they would, thankfully, be busy for awhile.

--

A hand gently grabbed Rodimus’s shoulder before he could pass through the doorway.

He paused and a scuffed up datapad appeared in front of him.

“You almost left this behind.”

“What is it—Oh.”

That was right; the datapad with the denied expense report and Brainstorm’s complaint. Rodimus had entirely forgotten about it. He also didn’t recall it looking so banged up, but then again… he had tossed it aside with reckless abandon in favor of… other, far more interesting things.

He took it from Megatron’s grasp, turning around to face him.

“I’ll have you look at it later.” If he didn’t forget to ask, though he could count on Brainstorm to follow up regularly when it was his grant money on the line. “When you’re not, uh, taking a break.”

“What is it anyway?”

A dangerous question that could very well lead into working off the clock and they both knew that. But, at that point, that would be Megatron’s problem. Rodimus had already acknowledged that this was supposed to be a “work free” time. If Megatron pursued official tasks anyway, well, that was on him now.

Now it was an opportunity for Rodimus to offload this task.

“Oh, this? Nothing much, just an expense report.” A bright, eager grin stretched across his face. “Mags denied it without any comments—“

“Again?” Megatron cut him off, scoffing like he’d been told a joke beneath his dignity. Did Megatron still have any dignity? “The software update last week rearranged the menu; Ultra Magnus must have hit the wrong button without realizing. It’s happened a couple of times—simple mistake, but, regrettably, the whole thing will have to be reentered fresh. A tedious reduplication of work. Have it resubmitted.”

Rodimus stood there with his mouth still hanging open but the sentence he had been in the middle of.

That certainly wasn’t the explanation he had been expecting, but he also hadn’t experienced any issues with the rearranged menu. It hadn’t even occurred to him that it could have been a problem. At least that was easily solved.

“Uh, great. Thanks.”

Megatron continued, changing topics.

“Shall I see you again at same time in, say, three days?”

[meaniezucchini]

I FUCJUNG DID IT!!! I FINISHED MY DIPLOMA PROJECT PRESENTATION TODAY, I NOW HAVE A COLLEGE DEGREE, WOOOOOOOOOO

Four years of suffering were worth it in the end lmfao

this last few months have been so hard, something possessed me to try and do an animated short, despite having zero experience with it (actually I know exactly what possessed me, I've always wanted to do animation, and always thought I didn't have it in me to work that hard, and wanted to prove myself) , and I did it!!! After two days of non-stop editing I can't look at the vid without feeling nauseous, and my brain zeroes in on all the imperfection, but I do know I did a good job, at least for all the love and time I poured into it

I conclusion, LFGGGGGGGGGG TODAY WE WIN

[horselessheadperson]

LITANY AGAINST FAST FASHION: A SHORT GUIDE

2 disclaimers:

I'm not an expert, these are just my ideas. The more you can add on or correct the better, please reblog

The first responsibility in fixing these issues (there are many, it's not a single problem with a single solution) lies with the people making the big money off of this. If you feel like you already have a system for making clothing and textiles work for *you* and you don't feel up to changing anything, that's absolutely fine and you should feel good about yourself for finding something that works.

Having said that, here's the main problem as I see it:

DUE TO FAST FASHION, WE'VE ALREADY PRODUCED ENOUGH TEXTILE/GARMENTS TO LAST US FOR GENERATIONS

The term "fast fashion" really comes from the rapid circulation of collections high street brands go through. H&M famously advertises they have "something new every time you visit", you can always find new pyjamas at Primark, Pull & Bear prints new shitty tshirts every day. Obviously, not all of those clothes actually sell well and then continue to get worn until they are absolutely beyond repair. Most of those garments end up in landfills. Even the stuff that sells usually doesn't survive past a couple uses and gets thrown out.

=> What can I do in the face of this?

Cherish every bit of textile you have. Even dishcloths. Remember even though sewing machines exist every label, hem, and embroidery is hand-crafted onto your bit of fabric. Was it under $50? Then it's likely someone suffered to bring this to you. This is obviously not your fault and this is not meant to inspire personal guilt, but it might inform the way you handle fabrics. Wash something instead of throwing it out whenever you can and follow the instructions on the label. Choose the right kind of fabric for your needs so you don't have to continuously get new stuff.

Learn how to repair and/or alter stuff. This is a big one HOWEVER I feel like this advice is often thrown around without mentioning that a lot of clothing these days isn't made to be repaired. Some socks are so thin and flimsy they won't take to darning and some shoes aren't meant to be cobbled. Most hems don't have enough spare fabric to lengthen a pair of trousers these days. Once you learn about these techniques though you'll be able to more or less tell which is which before buying. I feel confident in my repairing abilities now so I only buy clothing that's sturdy enough to take a few repairs. Again, if that's above price range, don't feel bad.

BUY SECONDHAND. This is the single best piece of advice anyone can give to avoid the fast fashion trap. Always look for a secondhand option - charity shops, bespoke vintage stores, refurbished design, heck, even ebay. Buy something that has already been through circulation and don't add to the demand for new products. The way quality has declined over the last ten years, this also means you'll likely get much higher quality.

Learn to make your own stuff. This is basically a last resort as it's costly and takes a lot of effort and resources. If you're at all interested in fashion though, it's very much worth it to at least look into one or two fabric arts to pick up on the side. You'll have full control over the materials, cut, size, and finish of the garments you make yourself. If nothing else doing this will help you appreciate how much a piece of fabric or a garment is really worth in terms of labour and expertise.

Wear a piece of clothing until you can't repair it any longer. Then, turn it into rags or use it as scrap material for small projects if you do any crafts. After that, donate or re-sell what you can. No, not everything that's donated gets sold, but it's still the most responsible way to get rid of textile products you don't need anymore.

Buying more expensive garments isn't always better. I've had €500 shoes that went bust after two wears and I've had cheap tshirts that lasted for years. When you need a longer lasting item, say, a coat or a pair of boots - do some research, check second hand options, and stay critical. Don't buy based on brand. A good example is Doc Martens, whose boots have famously more or less gone to shit the past 5 or so years.

Remember, fashion is both a verb and a noun. Enjoy!

[lucystark12]

little sneak peak of things to come because i feel bad that i haven't updated in a week 🫶

i'll finish the third chapter soon- this is gonna be a long one for sure so just bare with me-

“Hey.” Mike says, leaning over and speaking quiet enough so that just Will can hear. So that just Will can hear. Will would wonder how he could be so lucky, but he knows he isn’t, because something is wrong. “Sirius.” Mike says, pointing up. 

Will, slightly dazed, responds “What?” 

“Brightest star in the sky.” Mike says, letting go of his hand in favor of rolling over to talk to him, their faces only inches apart. “There’s a Greek myth ‘bout him too. Fell in love with Opora, a goddess, but 

“He couldn’t have herhim.” Two voices overlap as the last words come out of his mouth, Mike’s, and the same voice from the last dream. His. Will stands up, leaving the younger version of himself laying on the grass, cheeks flushed. He looks around expectantly, waiting for the vines to come back and wrap around him the same way they did the other night. He waits to have to fight them off again, but they never come. “So he made people suffer. Because he wasn’t loved. That’s you, Will. They don’t love you. He doesn't. And he never will.” Suddenly the voice is behind him. Will spins around, staring him in the face for the first time. Vecna. The person terrorizing Hawkins. The one who had started this, done this to him. He feels himself cower, much to his own regret. He always hoped that one day if he came face to face with the voice who spoke to him back in the Upside Down, the one who nearly drove him crazy with the constant taunting and teasing. This reptilian mummy was the one who had done it. And here he was, clutching the back of his neck like a lifeline instead of striking, punching, kicking, anything. 

“I… no. That’s not true. He’s my best friend.” Will says, devoid of much else to say or think. Vecna laughs

“Oh is he now? Where were the letters? Why didn’t he call? He doesn’t care, Will. I was like you as a child. Now look.” Vecna says, snapping his fingers. As he does, the whole scene shifts around him, the grass turning to metal beneath his feet, his peripherals reflecting desert hay around him instead of the darkness it did just before. Suddenly, he’s sitting, words pouring out of his mouth before he even realizes it’s happening, because he was just dropped into this moment. 

“You feel like a mistake.” He says naturally, a continuation of the sentence,  before realizing this isn’t where he’s supposed to be. “Wait… no. What?” Snapping out of it, Mike drops the painting into his lap, meeting his eyes. “No. Shit. This is wrong.”

yes that is a marauders reference shhh