#pls bring back monthly sets

[fairyhaos]

❍ ultimate boyfriend material // lee dokyeom

dokyeom x gn!reader (ft. bsf!hoshi), 3k+ words

tags: elementary teacher!dk, fluff, crack, established relationship, bi disaster hoshi bc i said so 😗✌, literally just for fun idk what this is lmao

warnings: swearing, alcohol + food mention, yn has only had bfs before, a bit rambly pls bear w me

summary: in which you bring your boyfriend seokmin to yours and soonyoung's monthly dinners, and it ends up going way better than anyone had expected.

You glance upwards to see Soonyoung looming forebodingly over you like a disapproving shadow, and you sigh.

"Soonyoung. Look. It's going to be totally fine. Seokmin is really, really sweet."

Soonyoung doesn't cease in his looming, continuing to glare darkly down at you as you take your shoes off, having just entered his house for your monthly dinner chats. "I'm sorry, Y/N, but your current track record means that I don't believe you in the slightest."

"Come on, my taste in boyfriends isn't that bad."

Soonyoung squawks, breaking his intimidating façade in an instant. "Isn't that b— your last boyfriend tried to hit on my girlfriend! Whilst both of us were right there!"

You cringe a little at the memory, before waving off his words. "This time won't be like that. I promise."

"Oh, it better not be like that,” your best friend says darkly as he leads you through his apartment. “I held back last time, but if this guy is as much of a douchebag as the other one, then I’m punching him all the way into space.”

“Seokmin won’t be that bad at all, I promise! Also, please don’t punch anyone,” you beg, trailing after him into the kitchen. “You know how much of a wimp you are.”

Soonyoung simply ignores your jab at his strength with a sniff. “Well, we’ll see how good of a boyfriend this Seokmin is, first.”

Every month since graduating and having to move away due to your respective jobs, you and your best friend, Soonyoung, set aside one Saturday evening where you meet at one another's houses, have dinner, and complain about all the ridiculous things that have gone on in your life whilst the two of you were apart. 

They were fun, easy ways to destress, and you loved catching up with your best friend. But after the first disastrous dinner all those years ago where you'd brought your then-boyfriend to meet Soonyoung, every few months, the monthly dinners became a sort of hell the revolved specifically around the idea of your boyfriends acting up terribly and Soonyoung staring at you with less and less faith in your ability to choose a suitable romantic partner for yourself. 

This time, you'll be introducing your fourth boyfriend over the course of the several years of these dinners, and it's safe to say that you're a bit nervous. 

“This Seokmin guy already has some notes in my bad books right now, though,” Soonyoung says as he brings out the snacks, pouring chips into little fancy dishes. This time, it's his turn to host, and he likes pretending these are fun, formal affairs. “He didn't even show up with you. Where is he?”

You sigh, picking up a few dishes and following Soonyoung out of the kitchen and into the living room. 

“I told you, he has a work thing,” you explain. “He's always really busy, but he'll be here, I promise. He promised me that he'll make time for this.”

Soonyoung snorts sceptically. “Well, that'll be a new one,” he says. “Your boyfriend not even showing up.”

“He will show up!” you say, and then roll your eyes. “Come on, Soonyoung. Don't judge the guy. You haven't even met him yet.”

“Oh, I'm judging alright,” Soonyoung says, shaking his head. He flops down onto the sofa. “Though I have to say, the bar is practically on the floor, right now. After seeing the kind of guys you date, I'll be blown away if he's not some kind of psychopath.”

You groan as you sit down next to him, immediately attacking the chips. “No matter what you say, my first boyfriend wasn't actually some psycho.”

“And neither was your second, huh?”

“Wh—no! Come on, Soons, all my boyfriends were actually quite sweet,” you argue. “The second guy paid for everything for me when we were dating.”

“Yeah, and then you broke up with him at our dinner and he smashed his own phone out of anger then tried to steal my silverware,” Soonyoung points out. “Why even try to steal my silverware, anyway? I own, like, five forks, and that's it.”

You look at Soonyoung, curious. “You own five forks?”

He waves a hand. “Yeah. But anyway, my point is, my expectations are very low, but that doesn't mean my standards are. If he's a bad person, even if he’s not as bad as the others, it doesn't matter. I'm kicking him out. You might have bad taste, but you still deserve better.”

With another long-suffering sigh, you rub your forehead. “Soonyoung, I promise you. Seokmin is actually a decent guy. You'll love him a lot, too, I'm sure of it.”

Soonyoung eyes you sceptically. “I'll believe it when I see it.”

“I swear to God—”

Three, neat knocks on Soonyoung’s front door interrupt you, and both of you stare at each other, eyes wide. 

“That's Seokmin,” you say, and immediately leap up from the sofa to go greet your boyfriend. 

“Hey, let me go see the guy first, I wanna see if he's actually all that gr—”

“Seokmin,” you say a little breathlessly, having already opened the door before Soonyoung can leave the living room and get to his own front door. When he gets there, though, he slows down, surprised. 

Seokmin beams at you, all shining eyes and gentle care. His hair is wind-ruffled, as if he'd run all the way from the bus stop in a hurry, and he's apologising profusely for being late but you simply wave his words aside, kissing him on the cheek placatingly and then laughing when he gives you a kiss on the nose in return. 

He's cute, Soonyoung realises, astounded. You look really cute together. 

Well. As Seokmin smiles at you and pinches your cheek adoringly, Soonyoung is at least able to quite happily cross off Not a psychopath on his list of worries over your boyfriend.

“Here, this is Soonyoung!” you say, leading Seokmin by the hand further into the house as if you own the place, pointing to where Soonyoung is standing at the end of the hall. “Soonyoung, meet Seokmin, my boyfriend.”

Seokmin smiles at him, expression turning a little nervous as he gives Soonyoung a wave. “Hi! It's nice to meet you.”

He holds something out to him, and it's then that Soonyoung notices the bag in Seokmin's hands that holds a rather expensive bottle of wine, and his eyes widen. 

“I kind of panicked and bought the most expensive one I could see,” Seokmin said, shoulders rising bashfully even as he smiles. “But I couldn't exactly come empty-handed, so, uh, here you go?”

Soonyoung shakes himself out of his daze, and gives a smile back, because it's somehow weirdly impossible not to when this guy smiles at him like that. 

“Thanks,” Soonyoung says, accepting the wine. None of your other boyfriends had ever brought round gifts before. “And don't stress about it. If it doesn't taste good, then we can always bust out the cans of beer,” he jokes, and Seokmin beams, relieved. 

You watch the entirety of the short exchange and can't help but smile, excited that maybe, this time, things will go well. 

“Well,” Soonyoung continues, and then gestures towards the living room. “Would you like to have this wine along with some snacks before we have dinner?”

───────────── ⏰

For the rest of the time that you're talking before actually having dinner, Soonyoung observes your new boyfriend like a hawk. 

Whilst he was, admittedly, briefly awestruck by how cute this Seokmin was (none of your boyfriends were ever cute: ridiculously handsome, sure, but cute was definitely new) he couldn't afford to let himself be swept away by that first impression. Your second and third boyfriends had originally been nice, after all, until they were… not. 

“So, Seokmin,” Soonyoung says in his ‘Y/N’s Boyfriends Interrogation Tone’, leaning forward. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see you cringing in embarrassment. “What do you do for a living?”

Seokmin blinks at him from over the rim of his wine glass, round-eyed innocent as he takes a sip then beams. “I teach at the nearby elementary school! Working with kids is like daily marathon training, I swear, but they're all so cute so it makes it all worthwhile.”

Soonyoung raises his eyebrows, surprised. 

Elementary school teacher was definitely not a job he'd expected from one of your boyfriends. It wasn't a profession that really made much money, and all of your exes had been… well, rolling in cash.

“They all absolutely adore him, too,” you add, leaning forward with a smile. “You should see him with the kids. They’re literally all over him the minute he walks into the room.”

Seokmin laughs, embarrassed at the obvious admiration in your tone, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m around them literally every week, so I guess it’s inevitable that they grudgingly accept me.”

“It’s not just grudging acceptance,” you say, waving a hand. “I’ve seen them! They literally love you so much.”

“You saw them for one afternoon,” Seokmin says, but he’s smiling at you, all fond. “And most of the time they were fawning over you, saying that you were so pretty and there was no way you’d date someone like me.”

That makes you laugh, evidently pleased by Seokmin’s adorable little compliment, and Soonyoung stares dumbfoundedly as the two of you continue bantering. It’s almost like he’s not there. He’s a bystander, observing from the outside whilst you smile at your boyfriend and recount that time you visited him at work (you’ve visited Seokmin’s elementary school and yet Soonyoung didn’t know he existed until a week ago?), and your eyes are practically sparkling as you look at him, and Soonyoung feels very, very astounded.

Never before has he seen you look so comfortable with someone outside the close friends you already have. It’s quite cute.

And also sucks a little, because now Soonyoung has to begrudgingly contemplate whether to move ‘Lee Seokmin’ firmly into his good books.

“Alright, okay, okay,” Soonyoung interrupts the two of you as you giggle about something that had happened with Seokmin’s students. “I see that you didn't tell me about Seokmin when you visited him at school once, but I guess I'll let it slide.”

You roll your eyes as Soonyoung takes a brief moment to pout in annoyance. “Because he and I had only just started dating, then. I didn't want you scaring him away with that terrifying face of yours.”

Soonyoung eyes you, unimpressed. “I'll have to know that this terrifying and handsome face is exactly why I keep getting hired as a choreographer again and again.”

That makes you scrunch up your face, evidently disagreeing with his statement, but you don't get to retort as Seokmin leans forward then, eyes bright and keenly fixed on Soonyoung. 

“Oh! Y/N told me you do choreos for idol groups, and teach classes,” Seokmin says. “That's so cool.”

The awe is so pure and present on his face and Soonyoung can't help but preen a little. 

“Thanks! I've worked with a few notable people, yeah, but I love teaching classes more than anything else,” Soonyoung says. “Teaching budding dancers is always so fun for me.”

Seokmin shakes his head, amazed. “I'm terrible at dancing. My kids were having a recital today—which was why I was late, and I'm so sorry about that—and I've been teaching them the dance for the past several weeks. If there's one thing I've learned from it, though, is that dancing... isn't exactly my best skill.”

He says it so dramatically, face dead-serious like it's the gravest matter in the world, and Soonyoung can't help but laugh. 

“I'm sure that's not true,” he assures, but he sees you shaking your head fervently, a smile on your face.

“No, he's actually the worst in the world” you say, and Seokmin pouts and cries out in protest. “Baby, it’s true! You and I both know it.”

“Y/N’s exaggerating,” Seokmin says, almost embarrassedly, in Soonyoung’s direction, making you laugh. You take out your phone, beginning to scroll through something. “I’m not that bad. Just a little bad.”

“I mean, anyone can get better with some training. And Y/N really does like being dramatic, so—”

You shake your head, turning your phone towards Soonyoung. There’s a video playing on your screen, taken from a darkened house party, loud music playing from the speakers. “Just look, Soonyoung. You’ll see what I mean.”

Soonyoung watches the video, which evidently turns out to showcase Seokmin’s dancing skills. The cameramanship is shoddy, and it’s obvious that it’s you recording, your barely-suppressed laughter sounding so fond as you record your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend who, genuinely, really is rather bad at dancing. In kind of a cute way. But still really, shockingly terrible.

“Well,” Soonyoung says, after a moment. “Well.”

Seokmin is still pouting. “Can I use ‘abstract dance’ as my excuse?”

Both you and Soonyoung laugh at that, and you lean over to your boyfriend to coo over him and pinch his cheeks, placating him in an adoring tone and. Even though Soonyoung should feel annoyed at the blatant affection, he can’t help but smile.

Okay, so Seokmin is cute, and a little bit funny, Soonyoung observes. His regard of this guy has gone up, just a little bit.

“You two are really adorable together,” Soonyoung admits, before clasping his hands all business-like, preparing to go back into interrogation mode. 

You beam at his comment, and look over at Seokmin proudly, who also seems a little relieved. But Soonyoung isn't quite finished. He wants just a little more information before he fully decides what his opinion of Seokmin should be.

He leans forward. “So, how long have you been dating?”

“Only about three months,” Seokmin says. Soonyoung is about to frown and comment on the short time, before Seokmin grins, all sunshine-like and takes your hand. “But we’ve known each other for a lot longer than that.”

“Seokmin used to be my neighbour, back when we were in middle school,” you say, and Soonyoung’s eyes widen comically fast. “He’s… well, he was the ‘cute neighbour boy’ that I was always telling you about.”

Soonyoung jaw drops open in an instant, feeling like he’s had the wind punched out of him at the abrupt revelation. 

‘Cute neighbour boy’ was the son of the family that had lived next door to you back when you and Soonyoung were younger, and you would arrive at school every day to tell him about the latest adorable conversation you’d had with the boy next door from over the backyard fence. Soonyoung had teased you endlessly for it, but you’d insisted it wasn’t a crush and that he was just some friendly boy who always made your evenings a little sunnier with his nonsensical, cute tales.

Soonyoung hadn’t really believed it, but ‘cute neighbour boy’ moved out of town before he could ever remind you that he wanted to meet him, and your conversations moved away from the topic after that. 

“You’re cute neighbour boy?” Soonyoung asks raspily, his voice having stopped working due to his surprise at this turn of events. “You’re—and you met him again?” he says, turning to you in amazement.

Seokmin laughs, rubbing his nose bashfully. “I was walking home after work when we met again, and I just knew Y/N on sight. I was… I kind of fell in love, all those years ago, so I was so glad that we were able to meet again.”

“Then we started talking again, became friends, started dating… and now here we are,” you say, and look over at Seokmin once more, stars in your eyes. “I’m glad I found you again.”

Seokmin visibly melts. “I’m glad I found you again, too.”

You smile, eyes crinkling, and Seokmin’s eyes crinkle in sync, fondly reaching over to pinch your cheek before his thumb smooths over your cheekbone, affectionately soft.

“Fuck,” Soonyoung swears softly to himself as he watches the way Seokmin handles you so gently, like you’re something so precious to him.

A cute, funny guy who works with kids and looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky? 

Looks like Lee Seokmin has definitely made his way into Soonyoung’s super-duper good books.

“Right,” he announces suddenly, causing the two of you to jump. “Dinner will be ready in about five minutes. I hope you guys like roast chicken.”

Seokmin beams at him. “That sounds great! Do you mind if I use your bathroom first, though? And I’ll need to wash my hands. Dealing with kids is not the cleanest job in the world.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Soonyoung gestures to the bathroom. “Door on the left.”

Seokmin excuses himself, bowing to Soonyoung and sending another smile your way before heading out of the room. Soonyoung watches the way you watch him go, looking at him like he’s the reason the world still spins every single day.

God, you’re so in love. But, Soonyoung has to admit, he kind of sees why.

You finally turn to look at your best friend once Seokmin has left the room, eyes sparkling.

“So,” you say, the anticipation. “What do you think?”

Soonyoung can’t hold his polite and put-together facade any longer.

“Holy shit,” he bursts out, and you laugh, delighted. “Y/N, where did you find him?”

You grin, the relief and love clear in your face as you shrug teasingly. “Just out and about. Why? You jealous?”

“Very,” Soonyoung groans. “Wow. I never thought someone like that even existed, let alone that it’d be my best friend who ends up bagging them.”

“What can I say? I have excellent taste,” you say. 

Soonyoung shakes his head, amazed. He can’t even argue with you anymore. Seokmin is the epitome of boyfriend material. He’s just the most incredible guy in the world.

And that makes him utterly perfect for you.

He furrows his brows, thinking deeply, before suddenly lurching forward and holding you by the shoulders. Soonyoung looks you dead in the eye, serious.

"Y/N. Can I date your boyfriend too?"

That makes you splutter out a laugh, shoving him off. "What the— no! Get your own boyfriend!"

Soonyoung whines, but he's smiling, and you can't help but smile too, because all of this is Soonyoung being his lighthearted, teasing self, which is just proof that he approves, that he thinks Seokmin is good enough for you, and it makes your heart feel light. 

He edges closer to you again, nudging you in the side. "Okay, but seriously, if I asked him... do you think he'd let me—?"

You smack his face away, laughing. "Hey. Back off. Seokmin’s mine."

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect @dokyeomkyeom @suraandsugar @haodore @tulsa24 @melodicrabbit

[writella]

More Negan x reader pllsss😔😔😔

pls the emojis are sending me hahahah! let me know how you like it!

Thinking of Negan who daydreams about the reader who always has the cutest outfits when she comes to visit— ♡

cw: negan x fem!reader, smut— masturbation (m) and descriptive allusions to sexual situations, very desperate and depraved Negan because he is in jail, and reader being cute and nice and just too irresistible :) + I wrote this with a little bit of Negan’s crude humor in mind. wc: 2.1k. slightly proofread.

Negan never thought he would stoop so low.

Not like some 20 year old guy living in his mom’s basement; the type he’d talk shit to then completely demolish on a game; one who drinks monsters and watches porn on the daily back in the old B.W. (Before Walkers— for those of you who are uncultured) era.

That was beneath him.

If he needed it, there was his wife of course, or some chic he could hook up with at the bar, but— let’s not remind him of that. That is a wound that needs no further reopening. He was ashamed of it and everything else he’s done enough as it is. Not to mention, it sure doesn’t help that he was reminded of every single heinous act he has ever committed in the A.W. years by the grand total 5 patrons that have visited his cell every- single-god-damn- day.

But now, there was a new thing to cause him great shame.

A girl.

You.

You who gives him his meals on Fridays—Gabriel’s day off. You who just can’t help but stay 5, 10, sometimes even 30 minutes after you give him his food because he always makes you laugh. You, one of the town’s gardeners, who throws in fresh strawberries during breakfast and an extra cob of corn during dinner when you know you shouldn’t. You who didn’t eat your cookie from Carol’s monthly batch she brought from the Kingdom because you gave it to him instead. You with your three sets of overalls and far too many sundresses, yet you only had one sunhat, one pair of gardening gloves, and one pair of waterproof boots.

You were way too generous with him and a little too passionate about your clothing to the point he thinks you must forget you’re living in the zombie apocalypse, but you were skilled, kind-hearted, and you liked to smile; you actually had conversations with him instead of that kumbaya shit Gabriel’s always on; and he’d be damned say you weren’t really pretty. Because you are. You’re real fuckin’ pretty.

And Negan was obsessed.

He thought about you constantly.

Like how he knew you must have always picked off the strawberries stems for him before you put them on his plate. And how he definitely knew you must have offered to give him his lunch and dinners on Fridays: He remembers that Gabriel told him that this would only be a morning thing, that the council advised him to have one day off because he was a new father. But, as dutiful as he is (and as weary as he was to bring someone else around Negan), he agreed only to breakfast. That way, he could sleep in, eat with Rosita and the kids, and not feel like he completely burdened someone else with a responsibility that was only meant to be his. Negan figured you were just that kind, that you must have been the one to offer up your Friday mornings to Gabriel. How you must have been the one to ask to come back two more times throughout the day, you must have. For Gabriel, of course, to help. But maybe you just liked him. He liked imagining that. In fact, he believed it.

He also liked to imagine that maybe you were dressing up for him. He sure loved your little outfits. Your overalls were your work clothes but still, you always looked so darn cute, always finding small ways to accessorize or make it feel more like your personality. It was all so innocent really, but he couldn’t help but find it incredibly sexy— how pretty and oblivious you were to how you looked, how your clothes fit you. He often daydreamed of fucking you in every single one.

The first, the overalls you wore most often for work, was full length and completely baggy on you— he figured it must have been for a man. It was old, the hem was fraying in some areas, and it did nothing for your figure really but it was soft, durable, had many pockets and you typically put scraps of ribbon or lace you found on the straps, right on the shoulder. And his favorite part, you were often wearing a crop top with it. He could always see the side of your breast, your waist, sometimes even a tiny bit more depending on how you turned. Sometimes he thought of you in that tight little floral tank of yours. How one day maybe he’d tell you to, “take it off,” and you’d obediently drop the overalls to the floor; or maybe it would be you, while you’re on your way out: you turn around, gathering up enough courage after all this time to look him in the eye as you take off your boots and unclip the straps and let the denim fall, leaving you in only that tank and your panties. He imagines how you’d push yourself into the corner where the door was, look out the small window to see if anyone was coming, and then you’d face him again, keeping eye contact as you slipped your fingers inside your underwear and started to rub your clit, fast. Wordlessly, his jumpsuit would come off too and his hand would go straight to pumping his cock. Mesmerized by the sight of you being so unlike yourself because you wanted him just that bad, so bad neither you, nor he, could speak. Only pants and moans and grunts and “fucks,” to be heard in the room.

The second and the third was an overall dress and one with shorts. The first time you wore the dress, he remembers it was a Friday that a lot of people had left town. Unfortunately a kid got lost so many people went out to search with the family. Thankfully for Negan though, this included Gabriel, Michonne, and the two other people who tended towards Negan. Gabriel had assigned you to keep a closer watch on him that day, that the days like this where the regular schedule is thrown off is the time he might try something— Gabriel is still angry at himself for the time Negan escaped— so you took it upon yourself to bring an activity: cards. After you won a second time, Negan had playfully thrown his cards on the floor, two of them slipping past the bars and past you. You had turned to see where they went and reached forward on your knees, arm extending to get them. You weren’t directly turned but Negan sure did take the small chance he got to move more towards his right and catch a closer glimpse of your exposed thighs and color of your underwear. After you left that day he imagined that right at that moment he grabs you by the hips, pushed your ass up against the bars and pushed your panties down so he could slide into you, fucking you through the bars as much as he could, probably giving the bottom of your ass red marks every time he bangs into you against the steel.

With the shorts, he thought of scenarios more or less the same as with your full length ones. The difference is that your ass looked great in those shorts and sometimes he imagined you pushing your back against the cell bars so he could push his front against it, giving him some friction. Him telling you that it’s been years, but you’re shy and scared and you don’t want to get caught so you just do that, allow him to rub against you as you look out the window to make sure no one is coming. He imagines that you can't help but start sighing, squeezing your thighs together, moaning when he wraps his arms around your waist through the bars. One hand snaking up to grope your breast while the other cups your mound over your overalls and you rock into his hand as he presses in on you hard. You almost lose your breath, taking a sharp inhale that freezes to a halt. Finally, you'd whisper, “That feels so good,” followed by a whine. And he’d respond to you in your ear, “I know, baby.” A big wet spot is slowly appearing on your jeans and you’re not even looking out the window, your eyes are rolling back until they closed and you’re just making these tiny pathetic sounds because you can’t believe how incredible his touch is, even when you’re given so little, and how bad you’ve wanted him even though you’ve tried to deny it. “No one else makes me feel like this,” you’d tell him, to which he repeats, deep, dark, and sultry as he kisses the back of your head, “I know, baby. I know.”

Lastly, there were those sundresses. Sometimes he’d see you in them when you brought him dinner. If you could, you would freshen up before your own dinner because you got off from work early and didn’t want to be in your work clothes anymore or maybe you were having dinner with friends or Gabriel and Rosita— he often treated you because of your care for Negan on Fridays. Most people liked to pretend Negan doesn't exist, or unsolicitedly proclaimed to you and Gabriel with disgust how they would never dare go anywhere near the jailhouse, that you two must be saints, so he finds what you’re doing to be a big sacrifice. Therefore, he often invites you for meals and he and Rosita are either on the look out or ask savangers to bring back any dresses in your size. But it was a time that Negan least expected to see you that he saw you in what became his favorite dress.

It was on a Wednesday. Certainly after 12am or close to it. People were asleep, but you were sneaking towards his cell. Apparently someone from work had ground some chocolate from her wife that worked as a savager. She gave you a few pieces but you never ate them and forgot about them until you were doing some late night cleaning on your day off, so you came to treat Negan. The dress you were wearing was the tiniest thing he’d seen you in. As in, it could have been a mid-length dress on Judith. It was a deep pink color, almost purple, with small flowers in a different shade of the same family all around it. It had these very short, very slightly puffed sleeves. He could tell that it was a dress that flowed out, but that didn’t stop the material from showing your curves. He knew for a fact that if you bent over you would be giving anyone behind you a show, but honestly with how much your legs were exposed, you walking around in that must have been enough to make anyone’s head turn. Immediately he started thinking about him outside of this cell, as your man, seeing you strut around town in it, how he’d push you to the side behind a house, ask you if you wore it for him, if you were trying to make him jealous, and then fuck you hard. Then he remembers that you’re offering him chocolate, and saying that you know you shouldn’t be here, so he saves those thoughts for after you leave. You start tugging on your dress, trying to make it longer and he thanks you. Truly, that was your house dress. It was always a little snug on the top so you could never wear a bra with it regardless and you had accidently washed in your sink with hot water— you had a knack for not reading clothing labels— and it shrank. You only remember how short it is now after not wearing it outside for so long and seeing how Negan’s eyes widened at you as you came in. Did you do it on purpose? you both now question. You decide it doesn’t matter, telling yourself you were just doing something nice and you run off to bed quickly. As for him, he cares as much as he doesn’t: of course he wants you to like him and he still has a big ego enough to assume you do, especially after tonight, but most importantly you just gave him more fuel for his imagination while he’s stuck here which is enough for now.

After fucking himself when you left, he still woke up rock hard the next morning. Waking up late, he had to act quick before Gabriel came with his breakfast. He used one of his favorite methods of pushing his bed to the side, and placing himself in the darkest corner of his cell, his figure facing the wall. He’d take himself out and as always, start to pump. He places his hand on the wall for leverage and he pretends he’s fucking you against the wall. He imagines that one night you say you can’t sleep and ask if you can sleep with him in his bed. How he would be such a gentleman and say that a lady wasn’t good enough to sleep in his crappy cell, but that instead he knew another way to tire you out. One the two of you could do fast so you wouldn’t get caught. That one always got him to his climax so fast— the thought of you needing him so much that you would come inside his cell, stay on his bed until morning, get in trouble for him. It would make him come like a bullet, hard and fast.

Safe to say, Negan loves Fridays.

[indiejones]

OF 1940'S BOLLYWOOD'S CHILDHOOD FRIENDS -TURNED- (DIRECTIONLESS & LITERALLY NAMELESS) NEW PESHAWARI KIDS ON THE BLOCK! - OF VASUDEV & RANBIR ! ... OOPS ... YUSUF KHAN & SHRISHTI NATH ! ... OOPS ... DILIP KUMAR & RAJ KAPOOR!

Did you know that the Dilip Kumar- Raj Kapoor friendship goes back not just to their childhoods growing up close by in Peshawar, but to literally several generations back, with Dilip's Dad being best friends with Raj's Grand-Dad ie Prithviraj Kapoor's father, their ancestors in fact having grown up in the same locality all life.

Infact 'tis via this friendship with Raj's grandfather, Lala Basheshwarnath, that Yusuf's father came to crystallize his dislike for the acting profession as a whole, letting no opportunity pass by in unabashedly criticizing his friend's son Prithviraj's wayward ways, in front all & sundry incl Yusuf, in a profession that he regarded of loose moral values & low prestige, this outlook also borne of his staunchly orthodox Muslim views on life, also simultaneously being heavily politically involved in Muslim politics, alongside the Ali brothers, & a big supporter of the Caliphate Raj idea itself.

So anyway, once in Bombay to try his luck (for as he narrates, "any job available whatsoever in Bombay Talkies" (the story leading to which we've already narrated in our Dilip Kumar-Ashok Kumar blog), he landed up bagging not just any, but the main lead's role, for which was also offered a certain pretty handsome salary price. But what really set his interest going, was that this sum, was much much higher than the salary being received by his good friend & only person he really knew even remotely from the movies then, Prithviraj Kapoor's son, Raj Kapoor, who he was in regular touch with, & who'd been working as an Asst Director in the same studios for some time too! Which is why, as he humorously recalls, unaware of the (perennial) hierarchy btwn Assts & Heroes, he had to get it re-confirmed from studio bosses, whether this offered sum was a monthly or yearly figure!

Next problem though, remained in informing his father of this new job placement, which he knew, would be totally & utterly against his express & strongly held beliefs! And so, afraid of his father's wrath, decided to not tell his family of his new job placement, as long as he could avoid, a very important turn of events in the story, to what was to follow next - the naming of the new hero, a routine affair in Bollywood back then!

Studio bosses came up with 2 alternative names, Dilip Kumar and Vasudev!

Dilip recalls his immediate reaction being, "Anything but Yusuf Khan pls!"

He amusingly recalls, how he too, just like the whole world, would learn of his new, & forever re-christened name, from the morning papers of a month later. And Dilip Kumar was born!

Also re-birthing his old childhood bond with Ranbir (birth name Shrishti) now re-christened Raj from their kiddy Peshawar days, a time he would fondly recall in interviews many decades later, of those nascent times of 1945-46, when both these to-be pillars were yet wannabes-

Dilip says: "Both us friends lived in constant fear of what'd happen at the studio each next day. And he (that's Raj, being an Asst Director, & incharge of more petty matters) would keep harping on small things & what all could go wrong, & I'd keep scolding him for always bringing it up & spoiling my mood."

Dilip continues- "I also had a fondness for watching good films, many many times...upto 3 theater shows a day, & that repeated for many days, if a film fascinated me enough. While Raj was not of the same view. He found the repetition confusing, moreover and thought it a waste of time. I always defended myself, by pointing to the quality of films (intl & natl) being watched by us here, & the value of our purpose. Anyway, what I imbibed from my observation, as one starting out, was the minimal amount of acting being done. I recall him saying once, "Listen,what we'll do is change it. Do it differently, this & that..", & I immediately reacted, "NO. I WILL NOT DO IT. I JUST WON'T!" "

How was History to know, while one became the grand "Showman"of Indian Cinema, the other would go on to be called the loveliest & among the Greatest Method Actors the world's ever seen!

[le-amewzing]

Two Sides of the Same Coin

I love me some Jarling, but pls hear me out: Cloneling. XD *Note: This is set after s1e15, "A Superhero in Valley View."

Fic: "Two Sides of the Same Coin" [FFN] [AO3]

Pairings/Characters: onesided?Jake's Evil Clone/Starling not as crackfic as it sounds XD

Rating: K

Words: ~1,060

Additional info: romance, 3rd person POV

Summary: Jake's evil clone sits in the League's holding, but he's had time to think. And then he gets a visitor.

      He isn't as stupid as everyone thinks he is.

      Jake's clone fell for that ridiculous (he now knows) trick Starling and the others planned, sure, and Captain Valor dragged him back to the League of Heroes, yes, and he's locked up in their holding cells while they decide what to do with him, undoubtedly. But that's the only real mistake he's made in a long time. …in fact, since he came into being.

      But he's not stupid; if anything, he's bored. And he's been bored since Valor presented the clone to colleagues and they claimed they'd "show mercy" and had the clone change into an orange jumpsuit and said they'd give him three square meals a day. All while calling him "Chaos" or "Jake" in a disarming tone.

      Jake's clone sits up and swings his legs off the cot in his cell—ten by ten, surprisingly not terrible, if only it had more in it—and gets to his feet. He sticks his hands in his jumpsuit's pockets, thinking about the League's treatment, especially when his eyes land on the cold, untouched lunch left by his cell door.

      "Chaos." "Jake." Sometimes, a few of the League members with more lines on their faces and longer memories featuring the Madden family don't even acknowledge the clone or refer to him simply as "you." Yet, interestingly enough, none of them have called him a "copy" or pointed out that he's a clone.

      This is something that's been on his mind these last several weeks…

      Interrupting his musing—and right on time, he supposes, if he had a clock in here—doors and gears whir outside his cell walls. Footsteps follow, and then the door to his cell sighs as the bars draw back. In walks Starling.

      Jake's clone smirks. "We've really got to stop meeting like this," he quips.

      Starling looks picture-perfect, same as in the ads and billboards he remembers seeing (a few, he fondly recalls defacing) while on the loose. The only flaw is that straight-lipped expression bordering on frown.

      "Careful now. You're close to glaring at me. Don't wanna cause premature wrinkles."

      Something flashes in her dark eyes when he chuckles. But, the next second, it's gone, and she dons a calm, collected mask underneath that silver hero one. Starling glances at his food tray and gestures to it. "You've got to eat."

      He shrugs. "No, I don't."

      "I know the chefs here. The food's not terrible. Pick at it some more."

      He meets her eyes. "I don't feel like it, and we both know I don't have to."

      Her eyes widen, her jaw clenches—her reaction lasts a second, but he has her attention now. "…no. No, you don't have to. Eat when you can, though, okay?" Starling encourages, her voice soft, rather weak.

      Jake's clone rolls his eyes. It's the same with Starling, every time. The League's permitted him to have twice monthly visits from her, but neither of them have fallen for that ploy, because Starling won't get him to talk, and he's not the real Jake Madden anyway.

      (And, on that note, is Jake even still the real Chaos anymore? He, Starling, and the others were so willing to let the clone take over the persona…and the clone's rather done being in Jake's shadow…so maybe it's high time "Chaos" be unleashed for real.)

      Jake's clone—no, he'll go by "Chaos" from now on—takes his right hand out of his pocket and runs it over the back of his head. "So, what brings you to my very humble abode today, Starling?"

      Her eyes linger on the bracelet on his right wrist (a power dampener, which has a twin on his left and a matching set on his ankles, to keep his super strength in check) before Starling swallows a nervous lump. "W-Well. You remember—the League promised to reinstate me and to lay off the rest of your family so long as I brought you in."

      "That change?"

      Starling nods.

      "The League's really got a bad grasp of this 'mercy' thing with their gifts."

      Her shoulders tense. She clicks the right heel of her boot softly against the metal floor.

      Ah, so that's where the new device is today. There might be no video cameras in here, but the League keeps bugging Starling's costume in the hopes she'll betray the heroes again. Granted… "They still don't know?" Chaos asks, locking eyes with her.

      To anyone else, they'll think Jake Madden asks if the heroes aren't aware of his family's whereabouts. But Starling knows Chaos asks about the League being unaware of his status…which makes sense. She'd never risk Jake, her Jake, the real Jake, by correcting the League's assumptions. So Starling shakes her head.

      Chaos raises his eyebrows, impressed. He'd only assumed as much until now, so to have the pretty little hero confirm it is a whole other deal. He returns his hand to his pocket then and cocks his head to one side. Chaos narrows his eyes at Starling, intrigued by all this duplicity. "Interesting, the way they keep using you against me," he states.

      Starling purses her lips and furrows her brow. "What are you getting at?"

      "Well, you duped me to hand me over to Valor. I'd complain about what your mentors are teaching you, but"—he smirks anew—"that was rather dastardly. Almost evil, wouldn't you say?" Chaos takes several steps forward, not close enough to loom over her but enough to be within arm's reach.

      She frowns up at him. "I wouldn't. We're heroes."

      "No, you play at being heroes. But you had fun, coming up with the plan to put me in here." Chaos takes another half a step forward, and he almost laughs and grins when Starling doesn't back away. "Maybe you knew things wouldn't work out with him?" he asks, his volume so soft it's almost inaudible. "But I'm here, and we both know you like this face." Chaos leans down with a smirk. "So, want a chance with evil, Star?"

      But their proximity snaps Starling back to her senses. Her cheeks redden, but she glares at him and dashes off, effectively ending their conversation.

      Still, Chaos suspects she'll have an answer for him next time…because there will be a next time. Starling will be back, and they can thank the scheming League of Heroes for that.

B3c This…is where I thrive, *LOL*. Crackfic made plausible as well as evil charries. *eyes all my rarepair and Death Eater fics in the HariPo fandom* ;P Anywho! While so far they've written the clone off as kind of a joke, what if he's capable of more depth? What if he gets to be Chaos while Jake lives as Jake, more than just what we've seen so far? Aaaand what if Starling ends up tempted, esp if Jake's not an option in the future? XD Yes, yes, happy to be evil and suggest that, but I'm just fascinated by the idea. And ofc now the plot bunnies multiply. Ngl, tho: Jarling is OTP, and Cloneling is my side fling. X'DDD (Truly, I just adore Starling and she deserves happiness.) WHICH REMINDS ME. One of the main points in this fic is sorta blitzed over, but! If I were a senior League hero, I would absolutely bug Starling's gear before returning it to her, suspecting she'd betray the League again, so I'm genuinely concerned for her as a Starling fan that my lady still ain't safe being back with those heroes. :L So chew on that, fellow fans. And, man, do we need more lore on this League of Heroes.

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

[nicoyourniis]

She came home on the first 10+1 😭😭😭

[kkusuka]

Haikyuu poly headcannons!! <33

 Pairs: Kageyama & Hinata, Oikawa & Iwaizumi, Ushijima & Tendo, Sakusa & Atsumu, Kurro & Kenma, and finally Bokuto & Akaashi. 

part 2

Sfw AND Nsfw 

Slight time skip spoilers!!!

let me know what you want to see next

word count: 2.6K I got a bit carried away. lol

FEMALE READER

Kageyama Tobio  and Hinata Shoyo

Sfw

It's a constant fight for attention

They are polar opposites, Hinata is warm and energetic while Kageyama is confused and awkward, but  they both love you so much it hurts.

How you got together was kind of a funny story, you and Hinata knew each other from middle school and reconnected when you met at a local mall in tokyo. So when you and Hinata started hanging out more he couldn't help but brag to Kageyama about it, which led to him wanting to meet you and thus began the year long fight for your love. 

You couldn't choose between them so they came to the decision that they would just share you!

Your dynamics are pretty simple, you spend as much time with whoever is not at practice at the time, lucky they have two completely different practice schedules, Hinata in the morning and Kageyama in the afternoon.

That meant cuddling with Kags in the morning and cooking lunch with Hinata in the afternoon. 

You guys also have a weekly date night! You have a rotation of who gets to choose what they want to do. 

Unsurprisingly Hinata likes volleyball inspired dates, but he also likes the movie and picnic dates!

Kageyama is a bit more romantic, shockingly (he read a dating book), like romantic dinners and late night walks , shopping, anything to see you happy.

They also love anything you want to do, stay in? They make popcorn for movies. Dinner? Where, what and when should they make a reservation. 

They are literally so whipped for you.

Nsfw

Oh~ ho ho~

I am a firm believer that these two are switches. 

Hinata is a bit more submissive than Kags (for the most part), but he has his moments. 

And i have this thing where Kags makes you and Hinata fuck while he watches biut votgh of you are power bottoms.

Toys toys toys

I'm talking double ended dildos and vibrators galore.

Punishments are usually for Hinata and consist of you riding Kags while he watches, and its absolute torture.

They also have nights where they have you alone and those are sweet and romantic, rose petals and candles. 

It's never boring <33

“Tobio, doesn't she look so pretty?” 

“God Shoyo you’ll cum in your pants if you grind like that” 

“ go fuck yourself on the fucking dldo like a slut” 

Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi Hajime 

Sfw

There are two ways that this happened

1. You grew up with them and slowly fell in love through your life, and you all got together in highschool

Or 

2. You met Oikawa in Argentina, literally fell in love at first sight, stars in your eyes. This led to him bringing you back to Japan, which led to you meeting “Iwa-chan” (who looked much more beautiful in person). After hanging out everyday for about 3 weeks Oikawa bright up the idea of sharing

And here you are! 

You guys are all similar but you share personal things with each boy

With oikawa you have the obsession with aliens and you too even have a beauty routine that you do every night before bed.

With Iwaizumi you, of course, make fun of Oikawa at every waking moment. But! You also do all different kinds of exercise with him. You have a monthly yoga class and a swim aerobics program every other tuesday! 

These two spoil you so much it's ridiculous.

Perfumes, jewelry, clothes and even gaming things.

They will get you anything even if you don't want it (and they are rolling in cash so it doesn't really matter.) 

Nsfw

Iwaizumi rules the bedroom.

And as much as Oikawa pretends to be the top, he falls apart the second you kiss him neck. 

Favorite position?

Simple. It can go two ways.

Oikawa laying on his back, Iwa fuking him into heaven and you sitting on his face OR you on your stomach ass up with Iwa between your legs and Oikawa's dick in your mouth. 

The only real times Oikawa is in you is when Iwazumi wants to see both of you be pathetic sluts, or when Oikawa is being punished, mostly cockwarming while he is tied and not able to thrust in you.

 Double penetration?

 Your punishment.

Whine and cry all you want neither of them are slowing down, this is really the only time Oikawa is dominant in the bedroom

“Aw, Tooru, look at her! So pathetic!”

“You look like two whores trying to fuck, Harder brats” 

“Oh! Iwa her throat gets tighter when you do that!” 

Ushijima Wakatoshi and Tendo Satori

Sfw

Oh bby how did you get so lucky?

You have the best of both worlds!

Tendo, who you can joke around and cook with.

And Ushijima, your pillar and voice of reason. 

This relationship was 100% started by Tendo. No question. He saw you and decided right then and there that you were his, and what kind of best friend would he be if he didn't share with Wakatoshi! 

Thank god you were willing to do this, it would have Broken Satori AND Wakatoshis heart :((

This WAS the best decision of your life. 

Your first date as a threesome was so cute, it started with walking around tokyo and you stopped and ate in a small cafe. You begged them to pay and they didn't let you so this became a game to see if you could ever find a way to pay before them.(you're still failing to this day) 

After the cafe they took you to a small beach that had a little volleyball net set up. Insert uwus here

They taught you how to play, the basics if you didn't already know, and you guys played around until it was 2am 

All of your dates are different but they either end like that or cuddling on the couch wachting movies. OR you know ;))

Nsfw

UHHH there are two ways this could go. 

You being absolutely ruined by these two. Both being pretty big, they easily overpower you. 

Tendo also has the obsession with being in your ass while ushijima rips your poor pussy apart. 

Sadist tendo also makes a slight appearance, not letting yu cum for hours then making you cum over and over and over again

Or 

Mr. Tendo controls what you and Toshi do! 

Trust me Wakatoshi is still controlling you every waking second, but having Tendo tell him what to do (being slightly unaware of what to do anyway) gets him off just as much as you. 

And when he’s feeling more adventurous, Tendo has kept you and Ushijima on literal leashes at his feet while he just chilled out. (i literally love this so much-)

You guys do a lot of exploring!

“Harder Toshi, the slut can take it”

“” we don't have enough dicks to fill all your holes” 

“Satori! Please!” “Shhh, floor whores don't get to talk” 

Sakusa Kiyoomi and Miya Atsumu

My #2 pair 

DAMN, i can't even put how whipped they are for you in words. 

You defiantly knew Sakusa first. 

You two met in the supermarket, much to his displeasure he had to shop for himself, it was the classic strangers to lovers trope 

You both reached for the same countertop cleaner! 

To both of your shock you touched his hand and immediately started to apologize to him (he couldn't even reply because he was so stunned by your beauty) 

He snapped back and started to interrogate you about what cleaning products you use, you both didn't even realize how much time passed with you just talking about how you clean.

Eventually you exchanged numbers and texted almost all day.  

This led to him texting you back every chance he had during practice breaks, but he never told you he was a professional volleyball players AND happened to be on one of the top teams in the country, (you found out when he randomly followed you on instagram)

Eventually he got sloppy and Atsumu looked at his phone and found your number! Aren't you lucky ;) almost immediately after he started to question Sakusa about you

Who is she?

Where did you meet?

Is she pretty?

Gimmie her number Omi, i wanna know her too!

Eventually Atsumu just stole his phone and started to non-stop call you. 

“Uh Kiyo? This guy keeps calling me and asking me questions about you.”

“Ignore it” 

It got so bad that when you officially met atsumu he had followed Sakusa to your meeting spot, and you hit it off! (much to Kiyoomi’s disdain) 

After a few months, and a lot of talks, all three of you entered a relationship!

Your dynamic was great! You were clean like Sakusa and fun like Atsumu!

Perfect!

Another spoiling group, it's like they just know what you want. It doesn't even matter what you think :// no take backs :))

Plus you have girl time when they are at practice, a good time to plan surprises ;)

You even got Atsumu into skin and hair care (kiyoomi approves) 

You are literally perfect (and the hottest couple in the planet) 

Nsfw

Sakusa is in control.

No question.

He wants ti fuck you? Done.

He wants to watch you play with yourself. Already rubbing circles on your clit. 

He wants you to ride Atsumu until you squirt? You're bouncing on Atsumu Cumming and cumming. 

Believe it or not Sakusa AND Atsumu love messy blowjobs, seeing you slobber all over yourself and their cocks is the most beautiful thing to them. 

Atsumu also has the dirtiest most vulgar mouth on earth, will not spare your feelings one bit. 

But that doesn't even measure up to how Kiyoomi speaks to you. He has no shame is telling you that they are going to let everyone on the team fuck you senseless. 

Sakusa also loves to punish you and Atsumu for literally anything, he will tie you to each other and put vibrators in your holes and just watch you  two desperately grind on each other to get relief that just won't come. 

(they both love to ruin your orgasm too) 

“Go Whore i know you can bounce faster than that” 

“Look at her Omi! Isnt she the best little cumdump? Yes you are! Yes you are!” (pls he treats you like a pet) 

“Hey Miya. Wouldn't shugo just love to have her on her knees for him? I think we should let her sometime” 

I would do anything for these two- 

Kuroo Tetsuro and Kozume Kenma

Oh? You're the most spoiled pet in the world?

You definitely grew up together, aka you've had both of them wrapped around your finger since you were 8.

 You guys probably started dating after you accidentally let it slip that you were in love with the both of them. 

After you all confessed and talked for hours, you were officially dating!

Not much has changed, but they were more affectionate and loving and more physical with you. 

Your dates are really random, all the varying schedule and all. 

They take you to anime cafes and gaming cafes and ALL the different cafes. 

They always tell you you don't have to work but you feel bad so you started a makeup channel on youtube! And of course you were a sensation! 

You and Kenma make little collab videos and were voted as the cutest couple of the year! 

But that doesn't1 mean you aren't involved in Kuroos life just as much! 

You help him get ready every morning, he just “can't” tie his tie even after doing it since highschool. 

You make him a unique bento everyday! 

You even buy him little chemistry sets whenever you see that a new model was released!

Plus living with two cuddle bugs is a dream for any girl ;)

Nsfw 

The way that both of them are into cockwarming- 

Whenever Kenma is not streaming he wants you to sit on his cock, just be a good kitten and do it. 

No worries! Between rounds he'll start to pound you for as long as he can, but it's never enough  for you to cum :// too bad you'll just have to wait until he’s done, or when Kuroo some home. 

With Kuroo it's usually when he is doing more work in his home office. This is pure torture.

He won’t even pay attention to you until HE wants to cum. 

To add on to that neither of them are afraid of fucking you infront of people. 

Kenma has no fear of keeping you at his feet while he streams so you can suck him off whenever he wants. 

One time he was on a zoom call with his PR team and they had no idea you were deepthroating his cock under where the camera could see. 

Kuroo is the worst with this too, he’ll start fucking you when he knows he ahs a work call in a few minutes, so in the middle of fucking he’ll just answer the phone and make you shut up :((

Both of them together? You’re fucked. (literally haha) 

Kenma a bottom , 100%, just not as much as you.

Sex mostly means kuroo fucking you and sucking kenma off. 

“I wonder if everyone would still follow you if they  knew what a slut you are” 

“Kitten you have to be quiet for Daddy now, this call is important” 

“Look at that kenma, she’s cumming all over the place while drooling all over you!” 

Bokuto Kotaro and Akaashi Keji

The owl nest?  Yes Ma’am.

You were akaashis girlfriend first, but that meant you were practically dating Bokuto anyway. 

Akaashi? He loved it, you were just so cute when you tled to Kotaro! 

When he got excited, you got excited and you were just the cutest two babies in the world!

 The way you would talk for hours about nonsense and laugh about the stupidest things. 

Slowly but surely Akaashi braugh Bokuto into the relationship, and you had no objections! 

It started with small things like movie nights that turned into sleepovers that became full dates! 

Dates? Oh man you go on one almost every night! 

The movies! Bookstores! Restaurants! 

Even to the volleyball gym.

Sometimes Akaashi takes you to Bokuto’s games and you two just Cheer your lungs out!

This seems crazy but one time on your anniversary that took you to an owl farm! 

It was probably the funnest night of your life, and that was it all three of you knew that this was how you wanted to spend the rest of your lives. 

Nsfw 

Bokuto might be the driving force but Akaashi is the real mastermind behind the bedroom life. 

Sex mostly includs being railed by Bokuto for hours while Akaashi whispers sweet praises in your ears, telling you how good your gtaking Bokuto. 

Akaashi is also a firm believer in punishing people with toys,aka Bokuto getting ahead of himself and ignoring Akaashis commands which lands him tied up and a vibrator pressed to his sild until his orgass are dry :)

 Of course you are no better, cumming before your told or vene worse masterbating without permission. 

That lands you with a bunny vibrator, unable to move and just watching as Akasshi fucks Bokuto with your favorite dildo :( 

But if you'd just listen this would have never happened, just promise not to do it again! 

“Keji please, pease, wanna cum s-so bad” 

“Gee, you're just sucking him in huh? After all this time you still want more!” 

“You are just the prettiest little thing huh.” 

[sunkisseddaffodils]

reunion- pt 2 (final)

Pairing: sherlock x fem!reader

Request: 'hi! can i pls request a sherlock x fem!reader fic in which reader is kinda john's childhood bestfriend, but they were separated when reader with her parents moved somewhere (to united states, for instance). so now when she is in britain again, she sort of struggles with finding a not very fancy place to stay. fortunately, she meets our johnny boi and he immediately proposes for her to stay in 221c, baker-street. so reader moves there, meets sherly and they sorta starting to fall in luv with each other'

Summary: Sherlock accidentally drags up some old unwanted memories for the reader

Genre: reader insert, angst

A/n: this is the final part of the above request. Sorry, I didn't exactly follow the request but I mostly tried to. Thanks to anon for requesting though! Enjoy!

Read pt 1 here.

-

The following day, after a restless night’s sleep, Y/N sat nervously in Mrs’s Hudson cosy kitchenette. Mrs Hudson had switched on the kettle and was preparing to make both of them a cup of tea. From what John had told her, she was perfectly lovely but she couldn’t help but be anxious. It was in her nature; she worried about everything. She made sure to bring papers to prove to her that she had a monthly income. But what if that wasn’t enough and Mrs Hudson had already decided that she wasn’t good enough to stay in her upstairs flat? The sound of china cups being placed on the table brought her back from the depths of her mind.

‘What brings you to London? John tells me you moved all the way from the States?’

John was right, Mrs Hudson was delightful. Y/N felt more relaxed at the sound of her comforting voice.

‘I’m starting my training next week to be a dentist in Harley Street ’

Mrs Hudson’s eyes genuinely glistened with interest.

‘Oh? John told me you already completed dental school in Seattle? Aren’t you already qualified?’

‘Yeah in the States. To work here, I have to do an extra year before I’m qualified. I don’t mind though, I wanted a fresh start in the UK.’

A door closing behind them interrupted their conversation. Both Y/N and Mrs H turned to where the noise came from but couldn’t see who or what made it. The latter called out.

‘Sherlock? John? Is that you?’

With no response, they returned to their conversation.

‘Y/N, you seem like a lovely young woman with a bright future. Of course, you can stay in the upstairs flat!’

She smiled widely, uttering a thousand ‘thank yous’. Y/N grabbed her important documents and handed them to Mrs Hudson.

‘Thank you. I’ll take a look at these later.’

Tomorrow, Mrs Hudson gave Y/N a tour of 221c. She fell speechless as she looked around. It was the same layout as Sherlock’s but had recently been renovated to have a more modern look. The apartment was already furnished so all she had to do was move her belonging's in from storage. She couldn’t believe that she was able to afford this apartment! Especially, as it was in central London. Promptly, she strolled over to where her new landlady was waiting by the front door.

‘So I get all this for this price? That’s insanely cheap for London.’

Y/N commented while pointing to the tenancy agreement Mrs Hudson was holding.

Simply, she just chuckled.

‘I do special rates for Sherlock and John. If you’re a friend of John’s then you’re a friend of mine. I’ll do the same for you.’

She continued.

'I met Sherlock in Florida when my husband was sentenced to death. He was able to help out so I owed him a favour. ’

Her face was completely serious yet it sounded so implausible. How could a lovely little lady like Mrs Hudson have such an impossible past like that? Adding to that, Y/N wondered that Sherlock really must be a genius if he can stop someone from being executed.

‘Wait, are you saying that Sherlock stopped your husband from being executed?’

‘Oh no, he ensured it.’

And with that bombshell of a statement, Mrs Hudson disappeared downstairs leaving Y/N utterly astonished in her new apartment. She made a note to herself to remind her to ask John about Mrs Hudson’s past. There was so much she wanted to know about her life.

A few days passed and the time finally arrived for Y/N to move into 221c. She was standing outside the cafe with Mrs Hudson, waiting for the moving company to arrive along with her possessions. She glanced at her watch, anxiously. The moving people were already five minutes late. Meanwhile, Sherlock and John were upstairs having carried three boxes between them that Y/N had brought herself. John was busying himself, tidying up the flat, waiting for a text from Y/N so he and Sherlock could help her move in and set up the place. He had told Sherlock to make himself useful but looking over his way, he hadn’t. Sherlock was staring intensely at the three boxes they had placed on the dining table by the windows. John marched over there to tell him off.

‘Sherlock! What are you doing? If you’re not going to make yourself useful up here, then can you at least go downstairs to check what’s taking the mover’s so long?’

Sherlock completely disregarded everything he just said.

‘Look at these three boxes, John. What do they tell you?’

He just groaned.

‘Nothing, they’re just boxes.’

‘Fine, if you’re not going to play ball then I will just tell you.Y/N has made sure she took these boxes here herself. Why? That suggests they’re private and she doesn’t want strangers, i.e the movers, to touch them. The first two boxes are labelled: electronics and toiletries. Makes sense then for why she would want to move them herself: one’s valuable and the others personal.’

He pointed towards the last cardboard box.

‘But why hasn’t she labelled this one? I’m sure I’m right to assume that she would have labelled every single box from what I’ve seen from these two. So what���s in this box that separates it from the rest?’

John stepped away from the dining table and started fluffing some pillows on the couch.

‘Sherlock, I really couldn’t care less. There’s nothing weird going on. She’s not part of some underground crime syndicate. Just leave it alone. You can’t know everything.’

However, the crinkling of tape being peeled off from the box told John that Sherlock, was in fact, not going to leave it alone.

John raced back over to the table and seized the box from Sherlock. Soon, a tug of war for the box began between them.

‘You are not going through Y/N’s private things!’

He yanked the box harder.

‘But John, I have to know what’s in there.’

John glared at him, pulling the box back towards him.

‘Tough luck. Once again let me spell this out: you cannot go through other people’s belongings. It’s rude.’

Sherlock’s grip remained firm, however.

‘Don’t you want to know more about why she’s moved back here? The answer could be in this box. It’s strange that she just packed up and left her life back in Seattle. She obviously doesn’t have any family here. Otherwise, why would she come to you for help? And there’s also the fact I heard her tell Mrs Hudson that she has to do extra training to be a qualified dentist in the UK. Why go to all that effort when she’s already qualified back in the US? Aren’t you in the least bit curious?’

John once again dragged the box back to him.

‘Oh so now you’re not only going through her stuff, you’re also eavesdropping on her?’

Sherlock was offended even though there was a hint of truth to what John was saying.

‘It wasn’t eavesdropping! I just happened to overhear her.’

What Sherlock was saying did make John curious, but still, Y/N deserved her privacy. It was up to her if she wanted to them the real reason she moved back to the UK. John was about to tell Sherlock this when the door burst open.

‘Hey, guys! The movers are here now if you wanna come down.’

Y/N’s voice staggered when she saw the scene before her.

In a moment of alarm, both Sherlock and John had dropped the box. Its content spilt out onto the floor. An off-white ornate picture frame smashed onto the hard wooden floor, glass spraying everywhere. The picture in the frame was of Y/N and a man in front of the Seattle Great Wheel. Y/N stood in surprise as the said man was knelt down holding a rose gold diamond-encrusted ring. The picture frame was custom engraved and it read ‘For my love.’

Oh.

It all made sense now to Sherlock.

However, there was no time to think more about the picture. Sherlock and John stood like a deer in headlights

‘It was Sherlock!’

John pointed accusingly towards Sherlock.

Y/N didn’t say anything, simply walked over to where the box had fallen, glass crunching under converse trainers. She knelt down to pick up the photograph. She remained there for a moment, an expression of profound anguish on her face.

John tried to help her up, but she refused. She practically ran out of the flat, trying to conceal her pain. John didn’t even have time to tell her that she had cut her knees on the glass from the floor. He grabbed a broom from the kitchen and started cleaning up the mess on the floor. He looked at Sherlock who was still in the same place. He had a look of regret on his face.

‘Sherlock there’s no point making that face now! You’re cleaning this mess up too. We’re going to make it up to her by making this apartment look really nice before she comes back.’

As he shifted the box back onto the table, he thought of his own way to make it up to Y/N.

-

Y/N was falling asleep at her desk, she was now four hours into writing her essay on dental hygiene. She placed her head in her hands, thinking she would just have a quick nap. Her phone ringing ended that plan though. She saw that it was Sherlock and hesitated. She still hadn’t forgiven him for trying to go through her things and bringing back unpleasant memories. It had been a week into ignoring him and giving him the cold shoulder. She let it ring out. Sherlock still didn’t get the hint and texted her.

‘Y/N meet me here. I wanna make it up to you. S.H’

That text was accompanied by a GPS location.

Y/N couldn’t think of any possible reason why Sherlock had asked to meet her here. Her uber ride had stopped outside of a manor house just on the outskirts of London. She quickly checked with the driver to make sure she was at the right place. To her bewilderment, he answered yes. Hesitantly, she strolled up to the door. She didn’t even have to knock when Sherlock opened the door. He motioned for her to follow him.

‘Sherlock, what the actual fuck? Do you live here?’

Sherlock led her through a ton of rooms. Y/N swear she could have counted there were at least five formal living rooms.

‘Nope.’

He opened a set of French doors and led her out into the back garden of the estate. Not that you could call it a garden. It was massive. In the distance, she saw stables as they walked through a formal botanical garden. Sherlock was more like running though, but Y/N didn’t know what was so urgent.

‘So if you don’t live here. Then who does?’

An undesirable thought entered her mind.

‘Don’t tell me you broke in here?’

Sherlock turned around just outside of the exit to the formal gardens, jangling keys in front of her face, a childish grin on his face.

‘It’s not breaking in if you have a set of keys.’

They had finally reached their final destination. Y/N saw that someone had set up a bonfire in the middle of a field. A can of petrol and a box lay adjacent to it. That box seemed really familiar. Sherlock picked it up and brought it over. It was hers!

‘Sherlock, you’re going through my things again. You know what, I’m done here!’

She began jogging back towards the house. Sherlock grabbed her arm.

‘Wait! Y/N. Let me explain.’

She gazed back at him intensely, waiting for an explanation.

He placed the box down.

‘I know you haven’t told me about what happened. But unfortunately, I am good at deducing things. Those things in that box came from a bad past relationship. I’m pretty sure I can guess what happened.’

He started to stammer, not sure of how to word what he wanted to say next.

Y/N wasn’t sure where he was going with this but could see he was trying.

‘John will be the first to let you know that I’m no expert on love or on relationships. But I can see you haven’t moved on. I thought it might help if you chucked all of the old stuff from the relationship on that bonfire and set it alight.’

She looked down, knowing that Sherlock was right. He had guessed everything perfectly. He had read her like a book.

‘You’re right. But I took running away from your problems to the extremest.’

She sat down on the grass, wrapping her arms around her knees. Sherlock shortly joined her.

‘He was my world. Or I thought he was until one night I returned home to see him shagging my best friend on the sofa.’

There was a moment of silence before she continued.

‘I just felt so foolish. I had to get away from Seattle. The place was full of memories of my time with him. I couldn’t stand it any longer.’

Sherlock got up and picked up the box.

‘And that’s why you should burn this stuff. He doesn’t deserve to have this much hold on you when he never cared about you in the slightest. We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. But please just think about it.’

Y/N stood up with determination. Sherlock was right. She had to burn all of this stuff to finally move on. Together they placed the contents of the box around the bonfire.

Y/N stood back as Sherlock poured the can of petrol over the bonfire. He asked.

‘One more thing. Do you have that picture with you?’

She grabbed it out of her bag as an answer and showed it to him.

‘I thought you would', he stated.

She placed the picture in the centre of the bonfire.

They walked back a safer distance from it and Sherlock got a box of matches from his pocket. He lit one up and handed it to Y/N. He could see that she was having trouble actually lighting the bonfire. He reached out and held her hand to comfort her. Y/N greatly appreciated that. She took the final step and with her other hand, threw the match into the bonfire.

The bonfire went up in ablaze. It was oddly beautiful watching the embers rise up into the sky. Standing there in hand in hand with Sherlock, she felt the weight that had been on her shoulders for months slowly lift off. The whole experience was cathartic.

Out of the blue, they heard the distant sound of alarms ringing from back at the house. Y/N looked to Sherlock for answers. He just told her to:

‘RUN!’

They sprinted, holding onto each other, seemingly heading towards a gate at the end of a stone wall surrounding the estate.

‘Sherlock! What’s going on?’

Sherlock tried his best to explain as they were running.

‘Technically I did break into this house. But it’s my brother's so it should be fine. There should be a cab waiting just outside this gate.’

‘Oh my god!’, she exclaimed worrying about the consequences to come for their actions.

When they had reached the road outside the gate, they stopped to catch their breath. Then they looked at each other and burst into laughter.

She hadn’t laughed that like in months. And it was all thanks to Sherlock.

-

[jinkicake]

Periods Don’t Stop Nothing But A Sentence

Akaashi, Kageyama learn about the benefits of having sex while you’re on your period and offer their help. 

Akaashi Keiji x Reader

Kageyama Tobio x Reader

Anon,,, you know Kageyama makes me act up so this might be a little wild... I hope you like it!!!! I love writing for Akaashi,,,, Kageyama is so difficult but I also adore writing for him too. That is my baby! Bruh, not @ me being on my period and writing my feelings out through this bc I want Ushiten to double team me.

SMUT // NSFW

WC- 1,182

~~~

Akaashi Keiji

Allow me to be bold and state that Akaashi is a freak… you can’t convince me otherwise,,,,, It doesn’t really have anything to do with this but I don’t think I have ever said it before

Knowing his relatively calm and blunt personality, I don’t think Akaashi would care much that you’re on your period

He might have to warm up to the idea though, he would only do it if you wanted it or if he knew it would make you feel good

I think he would have to be convinced in the sense that you actually want it and you’re not just doing it to satisfy him,,,,, he’s selfless what can I say

“It’ll really help you feel better, (Y/N)?” He’d sound so skeptical and then look it up, scrolling through the multiple articles with tired eyes,,,,,,,

Akaashi would prepare everything beforehand, he would make sure it will all be clean before and after just to make you feel better and can go right to sleep after you’re done,,,,,,,, yeah Akaashi gonna fuck you to sleep!

He is doing this for you because he wants to take away some of the pain you are suffering from, and maybe it’ll help shorten your period! Thanks for letting Akaashi know that, period sex guide 101 !

Akaashi is going to act like he is doing this solely for you but you know….

Of course, he is getting something from it too!!! You know deep down he is riled up and excited

I feel like when he fucks you,,,, he is going to confess how hot he thinks the entire situation is HAHAHA It is kinda out of character, which makes it even more ideal~ 

Akaashi has you pressed against the shower wall, your chest is pinned against the cold tile while one of his hands is wrapped around your waist and the other is gripping your hip. His first initial thrusts are slow and shallow, dragging himself in and out of your tense walls to leave you blazing inside. His slender cock just barley brushes along your g-spot, leaving you speechless and unable to form a coherent thought.

“Keiji,” You whisper out before another loud moan takes over your voice. Akaashi kisses your shoulder, not letting up his slow pace, you can feel him smirking against your skin. His touch leaves a trail of fire in its wake and you press your cheek against the cold wall for relief, to cool down just a little bit.

“The way you are so weak for me,” Akaashi whispers in your ear, his voice lowering, the air he blows into your sensitive ear makes you thrust back against him. “is the hottest thing I have ever seen. You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” He chuckles quietly and grits his teeth before bottoming out inside of you. The grip he has on your hip tightens and he forces you to grind down against him, your walls pulsate around him and Akaashi moans at the sensation. “Go at your own pace, pretty girl.”

You sway yourself on his length, moving your hips in circles as you desperately hold onto the wall. Akaashi removes the grip he has on your side and reaches up to grab the showerhead, putting it on the softest setting before bringing it down to your clit. The stream against such a sensitive spot makes you jolt and you glance at Akaashi, squeezing your thighs together in pleasure.

“It’s all yours my love, all for you, use it exactly the way you want.”

Kageyama Tobio

Pls… Kageyama is so clueless,,, I feel like he wouldn’t know shit about periods…. At the same time, he also has a sister so maybe he isn’t as clueless as I think???

I can imagine Kageyama walking in on you curled up into a ball because of cramps and he’s like “you good?” …. man would not have any clue why you were in so much pain

Then you tell him you’re on your period and Kageyama is like ‘oh’….. cue him to researching ways to help you feel better

He’d buy you a heating pad and warm foods because the internet told him to do so,,,, then he comes across an article talking about how orgasms can relieve your period pains and Kageyama is like 0.0

Because,,, he starts thinking about having sex with you and wow, now he has a boner

He continues to read the article and many others because when he brings it up with you, he doesn’t want to seem like a perv who is only suggesting it because he wants to get his dick wet!

I feel like Kageyama would send you the link via text message or simply slide you his phone with the page already pulled up,,,, I don’t think he has the nerve to straight out ask you

And you’re like….. uhhhhh and Kageyama is all red-faced with his lips pushed together in a little pout

“I want to help you with your…. pain” He motions his hand in-between your hips and can’t even find it in himself to say the word ‘period’ LMFAOOO

Kageyama does not care that you’re on your period, he is not scared of blood or grossed out in any way,,,,,, if he wants to fuck you and you want to fuck him, nothing can get in the way of it LOL

“T-Tobio,” You mewl and wiggle your hips, pressing your ass down into the mattress. “that feels so good.” Tears prick at the corner of your eyes and Kageyama swallows the groan that desperately wants to leave his lips. He glances at the towel and makes sure it is still in place so he can clean you up afterward. He doesn’t focus on it for long, not with the way you’re sucking him in like this, Kageyama can’t get over how tight you are.

“Relax, babe.” He grunts and dips his head, his hips stutter when he feels his knees go weak. “Is this too much?” Kageyama glances at you cautiously as he gently stimulates your clit. Mr.-PhD-in-period-sex-after-reading-four-articles remembers how sensitive the body can get during the monthly flow. He’s worried, Kageyama wants it to be pleasurable and not painful.

“Keep going Tobio, just like that, I’m okay.” You reassure him and arch your back at one of his particularly hard thrusts. Something about Kageyama being so attentive makes this experience that much better, it is like he is doing it solely for you and that control you have with him makes your knees weak. With shaky, wobbly legs you lift your bottom half up so you can bend one of your legs towards your chest. You aren’t able to hold the position long but at that moment Kageyama was able to thrust so deeply inside of you, you felt him in your guts.

“More, I need more Tobio!” You whine frustratedly as your walls convulse around him, your much-needed orgasm washes over you and can’t help but demand more. “Please, I want more."

Kageyama glances down at your pitiful eyes and leans forward to kiss your forehead before taking the same claim on your cheeks.

“Be patient baby, I’ll give you another. Relax for me, first."

~

Taglist.

@yams046 @why-am-i-sad-and-sleepy @xhanjisungiex @xxashshs @chaosamu @angelkogane @augustdearly @kunimwuah  @lovellucy @osamuonigiri

[jeonsbun]

lover boy ─ p.jm [m]

rating ↬ 18+

word count ↬ 1,970

pairing ↬ jimin x reader

genre ↬ enemies-to-lovers! au, arranged marriage! au, marriage! au, husband! jimin, fluff (if you squint), angst, & some smut

warning(s) ↬ jimin being a dick (he really isn’t), jimin has a big 🍆, protective sex (pls be safe!), semi-public sex, oral (m receiving), usage of princess (like once or twice, dat’s it), cursing, love bites (y/n tries to cover them), slight dom!jimin, lip-biting, & lots of kissing. just pure filth 🤧 lower-case intended

summary ↬ when your parents marry you off to someone that you don’t know, you never expected it to be him.

a/n ↬ hi! welcome to the official oneshot of “lover boy”! i hope that you guys enjoyed the little teaser that i had set out. major thanks to @chimknj​ for beta reading this <3 this is a part of “dishonest love” monthly prompt from @thebtswritersclub​. this is also a little valentine’s day gift. please enjoy! also note that in no way is any members mentioned in this fic are what they are in real life. this is just all fictional. as always feedback is appreciated~

“what?!” you yelled into the phone. 

“y/n, calm down. it’ll be over in a year’s time,” the voice on the other side said.

you scoff, “you gotta be fucking kidding me, you’re really marrying me off to some douchebag who you think is good for me? someone that i don’t know?”

“y/n!” yelled the voice, “he is a good man, give him some time, get to know him. it’ll only be a year before it blows over. we’re doing this to protect you, y/n, we love you too much to see you suffer again,” 

you sighed into the phone, sliding your hand across your face in defeat, “fine dad, you said only for a year, right?” 

oh, how wrong you were. you never excepted it to be him. oh man, the man that you hate with all your gut, park jimin. 

he was your rival from another gang, his parents and yours were good friends, they were the ones who suggested you get married off together. 

before you knew even knew it, it had be more than a year. your parents thought that having a man in your life will bring in honor among the mafia members you called a family.

you thought this was ridiculous, really. you were always independent and you wanted it to stay that. 

when you had met your soon-to-be husband, it was during a party that your family had hosted. they wanted to impress some important people that you didn’t bother to care or know about. 

your mother was the one who picked out your dress for the evening. a golden dress, decorated with sparkles shone in the dim light of your room. a sequin v-style dress, that hung low upon close inspection.

“this dress is amazing,” you whispered to yourself as you ran your fingers through the soft fabric. you soon put the dress on, along some gorgeous pair of earrings and a pair of white heels to match. you looked in the mirror, “wow, mom’s got some good taste,” you whisper again, admiring yourself as you brush your hair.

few minutes later, you texted your makeup artist friend holly to help with the touch-ups and hairstyle. 

“did you see who’s here?” your friend holly asked you as you heard her heavy footsteps near. “who? who the hell are you talking about?” you reply, confusion on your face.

“park jimin,” she says as she shakes your shoulders. “THE park jimin. he’s here,” 

you gasped. you sprinted out of the room as fast as your legs could carry you. she was right. there he was, standing tall near the entrance of the building. He was sipping on a glass of champagne, talking to someone.

you gulped down a lump in your throat that you didn’t even know you had. your father ran up to you. “ahh my beautiful daughter, let me see her,” your father held his hand out toward you. you take it, him spinning you around, laughing happily. 

“father, stop. i’m getting dizzy,” you smile him at him. “there’s someone here that I would love for you to meet,” your father takes your hand again, tucking your arm around his, whisking you away.

you approached a tall man, wearing a dress shirt that was tucked away in his pants, his jacket hanging down on his broad shoulders. “namjoon, I have someone here I would like you to know, my daughter y/n,” 

“ahh mr. jeon. Nice to see you again. How have you been?” the man, namjoon was it? asks as he hugs your dad. Then his eyes shifted to you, “And you must be Y/N, your father has mentioned a thing or two about you. But, he never told me how stunning you are,” namjoon takes your hand and kisses the back of it.

you blush and looked away sheepishly. you looked at the man, leaning on the wall, near the entrance, staring right back at you. you gulped again. 

“y/n, y/n?” someone yelled out, bringing you back to reality. “Yes?” you replied back. “What were you looking at?” replied your dad, as he tried to look around at what you were staring at. “nothing dad, i’m going to get a drink,” you dismiss the question, as you walk toward the open bar, saying goodbye to namjoon. 

your brother jungkook was nowhere to seen. ‘He’s probably banging some chick again,’ you thought to yourself as you sigh and facepalm. then you felt a presence, watching you from afar. 

you turn around, catching his eyes. his stare is intense, but you don’t dare look away. you start to walk towards him, eyes filled with lust and determination. who does this man think he is?

“what do you want, park?” you say as you stared him down. “nothing, darling. Just admiring a beautiful girl, drinking alone,” he answered back. you scoff.

“as if, you asshole,” you roll your eyes. he suddenly grabs your arms and presses you against the wall. he looks into your eyes again, looking for something. “let me go, you dick!” you yell as you try and get out of grip. 

His grip becomes tighter as he leans forward and whispers, “let’s get to know each other.” He then leads the two of you into a closet down the hall, away from the party.

it was quick. so quick that you lost your footing for a second. before you even realized it, his lips were on yours. you pulled away quickly, catching your breath.

“what?” you heard him ask. “what the fuck, park? you don’t go up to people and start drag them into a closet to kiss them?!” you push him as you screamed. He just chuckles. “princess, i’m planning to do more than that,” he smugly says as he smirks.

“you wish, i’m leaving,” you start to turn around when you felt a hand rest upon your wrist. 

“wait, look i’m sorry, okay?” you hear him sigh, “your parents told me that we’re married and that i had to marry you or else our whole “family” will go to shit,”

You turn back around, “they said what?” this was the first time you were hearing this. “by the face that you are making tells me that you didn’t know,” 

you shook your head, blinking a few times. “why though? i just want to know why, and why you of all people?” 

he felt offended but he didn’t show it well. “they told me that it was for the sake of our family and shit, i’m 100% not sure anymore,” he shrugs.

you kissed his cheek, looking at him sadly. next time you knew, you were pulling his shirt off. he didn’t pull away at all. he started to kiss your lips again and down to your neck. 

you move your head, giving him more access. you sigh heavily as he sucks hard near the area where your neck and shoulder meet. 

he pulls down the back of your dress, releasing you into just your bra and panties. he stares at you again, you stand there sheepishly. 

you slowly bend down to your knees to pull down his dress pants. he looks down at you, just running his hands through your hair. you then pulled his boxers down, his member slapping his lower stomach. your mouth waters at the size. 

as you start to pump him, you grabbed his balls. you can hear him breathe in deeply, ‘looks like he likes it,’ you then go faster. 

“put it in, please,” he says faintly. “i’m sorry what did you say?” you tease.

“don’t tease, y/n please,” he says a little louder, bucking his hips a little to create friction. this was your turn to chuckle. you eventually start to put his member into your mouth, bobbing your head, slowly.

“y/n, go f-faster” he pants. you listen, going faster than before.

you then go for his balls again, massaging them as you go even faster.

“yes, just like that,” 

you felt his hand at the back of your head, you hollow out your cheeks as you let him use your throat. you then felt something shoot the back of your throat. 

you shallow the salty contents (i’m so sorry 😔), and stand up with your mouth open. jimin smirks at you and kisses your lips. 

he reaches behind you to unclip your bra. he then go ham on your breasts, marking them and massaging them. he takes his mouth to assault your nipple and massage the other, you sigh heavy again, dragging your hand through his scalp. 

he suddenly stops, whilst you whine from the cold air, surrounding you, and then goes to his pants, searching for something. he comes across his wallet. 

you see a wrapper, eyes quickly scheming around at his face, eyes looking suspiciously. he looks up at you, pulling the wrapper out completely, and then putting it in his mouth.

“can never be too careful, am i right?” he chuckles as you roll your eyes again, giggling. he then puts it on his member.

he picks you up and presses you against the wall again, kissing you again. your little makeup session was interrupted when you silently gasp as he slides inside. he takes this opportunity to bite your bottom lip and pull.

he then pushes you up and you sink back down. you moan out his name, creating red scratches across his back along the way. 

“oh my god, right there,” you moan out. you didn’t care that you were loud, he was hitting that one spot that made stars explode behind your eyelids. 

after hitting that spot again and again, you finally came undone. but he was not done, at all. 

he places you back down and bends you back, just a slight bit. taking you from behind, he goes faster and faster, and getting rougher. you felt his hand start rubbing circles onto your clit, jolting your insides again.

you felt your second orgasm coming, jimin could feel it. your walls clenching his member sweetly, you cooed at him, “i-i’m close jimin,” 

“i am, too,” he pants, you look back at him. he looked so handsome, his sleek black hair sticking to his forehead, lips bruised and swollen from all of the kissing and lip-biting, and chest, sweaty and soft to the touch. 

after one last thrust and a flick of a finger, you both came together. 

kissing your neck one last time, jimin pulls the condom off and threw it away. getting dressed, you saw yourself in the mirror. you looked awful, your hair was disheveled and your makeup was smeared. jimin looked up at you as he puts on his pants, laughing. 

you playfully punch his arm, you watch as he puts his shirt back on and then disappear. you put your dress back on and try and fix your hair as best as you could as you wait for him. 

jimin came back a few minutes later with a wet cloth, handing it to you. you use it to fix your makeup, wiping away the smeared mascara and lipstick. 

knock knock “fuck, who is that?” you whisper yell at jimin. he shrugs, “y/n? jimin? i know you guys are in there, i saw you two,” the voice said. “open the door, now,” you gulp, shaking uncontrollably. jimin places his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it as you slowly open the door of the closet. 

you smile fondly as you remembered this moment. 

a/n ➳ this is my first time actually doing a full length fanfic that including smut like this, oh my gosh this is just pure filth! i really hope you guys enjoyed this. this really made me nervous and made my heart pound. anyways as always, feedback is appreciated~

☙ masterlist 

[tenwoology]

part twenty-six

part 25 • part 27

back to navi.

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note: hey, friends! this was supposed to be uploaded yesterday but my docs had a little bit of a problem. i legit got scared because the whole app won’t open and i thought my drafts got eaten. anw, all things good now! still i had to redo everything. i had fun making it tho! pls click on the music for more fun experience. also we got in @/jjyusmile’s monthly recs! if someone wants to cry with me pls hmu yaaay (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*.✧

length: 1k :: press play: give it back - cö shu nie

narration is under the cut.

it was as if it had the hallmarks of a hollywood scene. the two of you basking in the late afternoon’s golden hues, in a cafe with the view that overlook the ocean stretched out in the horizon. the sunlight glistened over the waters making it appear like a sea of diamonds. it was almost picture perfect. 

because the best view you have here is your best friend, jungwoo. he sat across the table, in a position where the sun perfectly illuminates his face as if it had found a home on his skin. his cheeks dusted with light pinks. 

memories of sunsets, cherry trees, and the images of your younger days played in your mind like a streak of old negatives. you were lost for a moment. only the crackling leaves beneath your feet became the piped music as the image of you and jungwoo running in an autumn day flashes. he was a lot skinnier back then, freshness of budding youth on both of your teen faces were evident.  

“i can’t believe we’re going home.” he said and plopped himself on the table. “can we just stay here?” even though you can’t see it, you know he’s pouting.

“should we?”

he looked at you wide-eye. “wha—”

“i’m kidding. we can’t, you silly.” you said while a playful grin tugging at your lips.

jungwoo let out a whine and exhaled in exasperation as he took your hand. “okay. but promise me, we’re gonna go back here. just us.” he murmured softly.

you met his hopeful gaze with a welcoming smile. “we will. promise.” your thumb brushing over his knuckles in a delicate manner. 

although, physic-wise, he’s gotten taller and beef up a little. a lot more fashionable now, probably because of the influence of his friends (which became your good friends too). but jungwoo, as the light and buoyant kid that he was, still surprises you that he had kept the same nature even after all these years. he’s a lot mature but he remain unchanged; still the outgoing kid that everyone seemed to love and adore. 

you look at your hand that he was holding. you could feel the blossoming warmth in your chest that you anticipated not to crept up your cheeks. jungwoo’s affable demeanor towards you is something you’re already used to. however, it appears like fate has a way of fooling your entire being. now, all of his sweet gestures that he normally does, would be enough to make your heart race a thousand miles. 

honestly, you wouldn’t mind doing this all day. no other person has ever give you the sense of comfort the way this man in front of you did. he could just sit there, do nothing, and he would still be able to send an abundance of happiness down to your feet up to your heart. jungwoo is just that person. 

and maybe, it wouldn’t hurt to give him your heart. 

you bit your lip, your gaze dropping to his face. and suddenly, all you could think about is that: he’s beautiful. the kind of beaut that invigorates you, incites you. a splendor manifested into a human being. he was ethereal. 

“woo, can i tell you something?”  

“hm? you can tell me anything, bub.” 

“i…you know, i haven’t been a good talker. always setting my feelings aside, always ignoring it in hopes it would be gone overnight,” you sighed.

“it was a bad habit, i know. but i never grew up with a lot of friends, woo. being a foreigner made it hard, communication was hard, and i can’t even talk about things that bothers me with jun. because i don’t want to give him the impression of his sister being weak, that’s not what he deserves.” you let out a shaky breath and met his eyes. you can’t read what’s on his mind, though his eyes weren’t anything malicious but it had been marked with the utmost cordiality. 

“to be honest, i don’t quite remember how the hell did we manage to get close–like how? seriously?” you chuckled. he did too. “just like that, you became part of my daily life. and i never regretted any single second of it. woo, i love every bit of it. because you never tried to be anything, you never tried to be something you are not. you never pushed me to say things and you…you were so patient to me, woo. even today, after all these years. you still managed to be the same.” there’s a desperation formed in your words, however, amusement topped it all. 

“you bring so much magic and interest to my life, it’s insane, really! so, how do you expect me not to fall in love with you when you made me feel so good about myself to the point it convinced me that maybe, i wasn’t really that bad?” 

your heart pounded inside your chest like an animal demanding to be released. and the butterflies in your stomach started going on rampage—or maybe they were lions, or elephants, or dinosaurs—nonetheless, it felt good. extremely. 

his next reaction struck you dumb, though. “huh?”

“wow, and here i am, expressing my love for you and all i get is–”

“no! i…i’m just surprised, holy crap.” jungwoo’s ears were reddened, and his cheeks bloomed in the colour of vibrant pinks that looked so good in his fair skin. 

“woo, i love you.” 

“shit, say it again.”

“i love you.” 

the words rolled off your tongue with fluency and if you could only taste it, they would probably tasted like chocolate and strawberries. he’s gaze never left you and truthfully, it’s starting to make you feel embarrassed too. 

the confession was nowhere near perfect. it wasn’t even the most romantic. in fact, it was a love confession in the spur of the moment. but those mere words were enough to fill the void inside of jungwoo and all he could think about is his lips on top of yours. 

“can i kiss you?” 

you nod. and he slowly inclined his face closer to yours and just like that–his warm lips embraced yours. the kiss is a chaste one, neither the two of you were rushing. with carefulness and love, you take everything his lips could offer: the world; the heavens; the universe; everything.

[legendofzeldaalinktothepast]

Cuspids - Chapter 1

Fandom - Hannibal 

Relationship - Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter 

Rating - M (violence in future chapters) 

Next Chapter 

Werewolf/Vampire AU. 

“Will Graham, an introverted high school biology teacher, has been feeling rather isolated. Maybe it's his neurodivergence, or his deteriorating mental health; or maybe it's the fact that he turns into a bloodthirsty werewolf every full moon. Fortunately for Will, Dr. Hannibal Lecter understands exactly where he's coming from.” 

Will dropped his pen against the desk with a sigh and buried his face into his hands. Nearly an hour had passed since the students left the school, and he’d barely made a dent in the stack of papers he needed to grade… Any other day, he’d be nearly finished; yet on this particular afternoon, focusing was next to impossible. 

He knew why his mind wasn’t all in the right place, too, which somehow made it all the more frustrating; it was the afternoon before a full moon. His transformation only began as the sun set, and his full form reared its ugly head the precise moment the full moon was visible in the sky... But in the daylight hours beforehand, weakness would overtake his body. 

His skin would prickle, as if preparing for the thick fur that would burst from his flesh... And the hunger was unbearable. Nothing he ate would satisfy him -- nothing but the fresh prey that he’d kill with his own fangs, but that obviously wasn’t something he could eat in a teacher’s lounge. 

"Will?"

Will flinched in surprise as he spotted Jack in the doorway. He hadn't heard his footsteps in the hallway, or even noticed he’d opened the door.

At seeing his reaction, Jack's already-concerned expression only deepened. "I need to talk to you about something."

"May I recover from my heart attack, first?" Will said with a sigh, taking a sip from his water bottle. Taking a deep breath, he leaned back in his chair. “Alright, lecture away.”

"I’m not here to lecture you." Jack said, pulling up a chair and seating himself on the opposite end of Will’s desk. In response, he turned his gaze back down to his stack of paperwork. Eye contact simply wasn’t one of Will’s qualities, which Jack had come to understand, and he'd learned to distinguish when Will was listening and when he was flat out ignoring him. This time, fortunately, he knew it was the former.

“So what’s on your mind?” Will said, tapping the paper with his pen.

"I think I should be the one asking you that." Jack said with a slight smile. "I'm talking to you about this in private so it won't feel like an intervention. You haven't been yourself lately."

Will rolled his eyes without thinking. ’It sure feels like an intervention.’

"...And I understand why you refuse to seek therapy, and that your personal life and well being are not my business." Jack continued, biting back the urge to scold Will for rolling his eyes at him. "But Will, students are starting to notice. Some have come to me with genuine concern, others crack jokes in the hallway.”

"I’m a teacher, Jack. They're going to crack jokes about me no matter how mentally well I am." Will sighed.

"Yes, but this isn’t about jokes,” Jack began, “It’s about you; you’re zoning out during lessons and calling off every other week. And once the students start noticing, that’s a sign you need to get yourself a therapist.”

Will tightened his grip on his pen. He knew it was coming, but that T word simply made the hairs on his spine prickle. "I'd rather eat the gum from under the cafeteria tables."

"Will." Jack glared at him; his patience was clearly thinning the longer this conversation went on. "If you won't see a therapist... I’m asking at the very least that you talk to someone.”

"I'm talking to someone right now." Will joked.

"I mean Dr. Lecter."

Will glanced up from his papers, raising an eyebrow. "You want me to talk about my problems to a high school counselor?"

"As far as I'm concerned, he has the degree required to figure out what the hell is going on with you." Jack said. "I'm not doing this to make you uncomfortable, Will... I wouldn't be doing this if I was the only one concerned. But even Freddie has started worrying about you."

Will dropped his pen. “Damn, seriously? Even I’ll admit that’s concerning.” he said with a laugh.

"Exactly. Now, I know I can't force you to do anything..." Jack said, rising back to his feet. "But if you know what's good for you, you'll either see a psychiatrist or at bare minimum talk to Dr. Lecter."

"If it'll help you sleep at night, I'll have a conversation with him tomorrow during lunch." Will said.

Jack smiled. It had been a while since Will had seen him so genuinely pleased with him, and he couldn’t help feeling slightly relieved. “Yes, I’ll sleep very well tonight knowing that.” he said.

"Alrighty then." Will said. "Anything else on your mind, or am I free to get back to work?”

"I won’t disrupt you again." Jack said with a nod, and pulled the door shut behind himself. 

* 

"Soup's on, guys!" Will announced, and the horde of dogs scampered straight into the kitchen.

”Food! Food!” the dogs barked.

He placed six bowls down on the rubber place mats, each filled with dog food he'd prepared from scratch. As he watched the dogs dig in, Will felt his own hunger growing more intense. He tapped his nails against the kitchen counter, peering outside at the sunset; the sky hadn't darkened quite enough yet, but as the hair on his body thickened, and his sharpening canines pressed against his tongue, he knew the full moon would be out any minute, now.

Will glanced back at the dogs one last time, and then made his way towards the back door. “I’m gonna head out, now. Watch over the house for me.” he said.

”Be safe, Will!” Winston said.

”Bring me home a rabbit!” Buster barked, wagging his tail.

“Can’t make any promises, but I’ll try." Will chuckled.

As he stepped outside, he gazed into the vast woods just beyond his back yard. He took in the scents of the forest; mostly squirrels, mice, birds, a rabbit or two... Certainly not enough to nourish a fully transformed werewolf, but thankfully, he had the whole night to hunt down more substantial prey.

The chilly night air ruffled his fur. As the sky darkened, Will sank down to all fours and lurked into the darkness. 

* 

The school bell rang, grating against Will’s sleep deprived head, and he rubbed at his ears with his knuckles.

“No homework tonight, but try to review pages 105 through 115.” he said as the students filed out, rubbing his eyes.

As the classroom emptied, Will grabbed his water bottle and headed for the door; Jack passed him in the hallway, giving him a look that said “You better be going to Dr. Lecter’s office”, and Will responded with an eye-roll that said “Yeah, yeah, get off my ass already.”

Will walked against the current of noisy teenagers heading for the cafeteria, apologizing as he bumped into someone here and there. The mere thought of eating lunch nauseated him; after his monthly transformation and hunt, he’d scarfed down enough meat to hold him off for the next week.

Soon enough, he’d reached the office, and he gave a brief knock on the glass window.

The door immediately opened, as if Hannibal had been waiting for him. ’Weirdo.’

“Good afternoon, Mr. Graham.” Hannibal greeted with a polite nod. “Come in and have a seat.”

Will cautiously made his way into the office, seating himself in the leather chair across from Hannibal’s desk. On it was a wooden name tag that read “Dr. Hannibal Lecter”; there were a couple framed photographs and a single potted plant. In the center of the desk was a graphite drawing, though due to the dim lighting of the office, Will couldn’t see it very well.

“So, what would you like to talk about today?” Hannibal asked, sitting himself down in his rolling chair and placing his folded hands on his desk.

“Well, guess I’ll set something straight first.” Will said. “I told Jack I didn’t want to see a therapist. So… please don’t treat me like I’m your patient.”

“I had no intention of doing so.” Hannibal chuckled. “Jack told me you weren’t comfortable being a patient. We’re simply talking as coworkers; even friends, if that’s what you’d like.”

Will adjusted his glasses. “That’s what I’d hoped.” he said.

A silence filled the room; Hannibal watched Will expectantly as he bounced his leg, and once he realized Will wasn’t going to speak first, he decided to take the lead. “What is your life like outside of work, Will?”

Will tapped his fingernails against the arm rest. “I go home, take care of my dogs, sleep.” ’And once a month I turn into a vicious bloodthirsty canine that attacks everything in its line of sight.’

“Is that all?”

“More or less.”

“Well, that’s a start. It doesn’t sound like a very enriching lifestyle.” Hannibal said. As he spoke, he reached for a graphite pencil, turning his attention down to the drawing on his desk.

Will shrugged. “Maybe, but not the reason I’m here. Lately I’ve been… zoning out. Struggling to stay awake in class, not grading assignments on time. Jack told me students are starting to notice.”

“Maybe so, but there could be a correlation between the two.” Hannibal said, reaching for a pencil sharpener. “Humans are social creatures. Dogs can fulfill some of our needs, and so can the individuals we work with, but I have a feeling talking with people outside of a work environment would do you some good.”

“That’s technically what I’m doing now. I’m on my lunch break.” Will snorted.

Hannibal smiled. “That is true. And since I’m not your therapist, I suppose this counts.”

“Are you certain?” Will asked. “Or are you saying that just to make me more comfortable?”

“A therapist would not draw during a session with a patient.” Hannibal said, gesturing to the drawing in front of him. “I also cannot, ethically, be your therapist, considering we work in the same building.”

“Alright, fair enough.” Will said. “So… What do you do outside of work?”

“I spend time with my daughter. She’s one of your students; Abigail Hobbs.” Hannibal said. Will took a moment to place the name to a face; if he remembered correctly, she was a rather quiet girl from his third period. Dark hair, freckles, always wearing a scarf.

“Yes, I know Abigail. No kids for me, though.” Will said, though his dogs might as well have been his children. Especially on the nights where he transformed and his grasp on human language would fog over, replacing itself with the barks and growls only fellow canines would understand.

“Not everyone is ready for children. I adopted her very recently, and even at the age of seventeen, she can be a handful at times.” Hannibal sharpened his pencil as he spoke, the shavings dropping into a pile beside his canvas. He then brushed them into the trash can… One by one, meticulously. “I may seem like a bit of a hypocrite for telling you to socialize more… Seeing as I don’t leave my house nearly as much as I should, either.”

“Most doctors can’t practice what they preach.” Will said with a shrug. “I doubt my dentist flosses three times a day.”

Hannibal chuckled. “That is true.” he said. “By the way… Jack told me you were coming here on your lunch break. You’re free to eat in here in my office, but make sure to clean up any mess.”

“I don’t have one today. I’ve been feeling nauseous.” Will said; it wasn’t a lie, after all.

Hannibal smiled a bit, a slightly knowing expression in his eyes, but Will wasn’t quite sure why. “Well, I hope you feel better soon.”

“Thanks. I'll be fine.” Will said. He glanced at the time on his watch; fifteen minutes left until lunch was over. He knew he should stay and chat more, since he hadn’t really gotten anything out of this forced conversation… But he also hadn't expected to, and he never promised Jack he’d stay for the whole lunch period. Besides, he had a lot of papers to catch up on.

“Anyway, it was nice talking to you.” Will said, pulling himself to his feet. “But I think I've said just about all I needed to. At least for today. But I'll probably be back tomorrow, because Jack will absolutely nag me if I don't.”

Hannibal smiled. “I look forward to seeing you again." he said.

As Will made his way out, Hannibal pulled out a notepad from beneath his canvas. He jotted something down as a reminder to himself, and then slipped it back into place.

[rhyaxxyn]

Madame Foruj was fuming when she dragged Amaranthine into the House of Halos, her freshly manicured nails digging into her upper arm. Perhaps it was because she ate too much for breakfast this morning, or that she was covered head to toe in leaves and mud. Probably the ladder.

She was shoved around the corner, passing a number of giggling girls and women who watched her, hoping her punishment would knock her down a peg. As if being the prize of Foruj was a bragging right. Still, Amara gazed at one of the workers her age, Serao, who was smirking at her, and winked. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make the girl’s smile turn into a scowl. Again she was shoved, and she lost track of the chestnut-haired girl.

At last, Madame Foruj pushed her into her rooms, face pinched like always, making useless promises and threats as she she called for the high-class maids she had especially for Amara. Frankly, Amara expected her lecture to last hours. Last time she got in trouble, the Madame had lectured while she was in the tub, and then when she was drying off... while she was dressing. But Foruj left with a slam of the door, Amaranthine’s hanging silk textiles waving in her wake. Even the maids flinched, but Amrar stared at the spot Foruj once stood.

Maybe she got off lucky. That’s what she hoped as the maids pulled her gently into the bathroom, nimble hands stripping her of her muddy blouse and trousers. The moment the wrap around her breasts was unwound, she was covered in a robe, her hair expertly tied up to keep from ruining the expensive material.

In the next hour, steam filling the bathroom, the dirt was scrub from her skin. She would complain about how rough they were being, but she was used to the sting at this point. In fact, she preferred the stiff brushes to Foruj’s beatings.

“Did you hear about the man Madame Foruj is bringing in, M’lady?” Her heart stilled when the maid brushing her hair spoke, voice like the crunch of an autum leaf. She had nothing to fear, the price of her entire body was too high for anyone in Kayala except those in the Court of Glory--but they wouldn’t bother with her. Not when they knew she was nothing more than a nameless, and the whole daughter of Khozyain lie was a selling point.

Sometimes, men would purchase a kiss from her for good health, a date for luck. Then, occasionally, her more intimate dealings were bought, but she had yet to be marked. If she had, then she could’ve already gotten out of the House of Halos.

Amaranthine quieted her mind and heart and asked, “What man?”

“A thief she bailed out from a small village a few towns away.” Right. Foruj had left not long ago to visit her sister in Castyhi. “She intends to make him into your guardian.”

Amara had to hold in her laugh. A guardian? Oh god, Foruj was really at the end of her rope. Did she actually think hiring some random person would stop her from being a nuisance?

She bit down on her smile and leaned into the hands of the maid brushing her hair. Well, even if this thief proved to be an annoyance, he could be entertainment of some sort.

“What’s his name?” she wondered, sounding entirely impassive. The maid behind her paused and tried to remember, the cogs in her head turning. Amara loved her maids. They heard all the things Amara would never hear on her own. Ten ears were better than two.

---

Amara sat in silence in Foruj’s office, shuffling a deck of oracle cards she had bought with the little earnings she was given on a monthly basis. It was all she could hope to do with the man sitting in the chair in front of her, eyes everywhere but her. She inspected him a long time when she was sure he was looking at the expensive landscape painting on the opposite wall.

He had hair as white as the stars in the sky, long enough to tell him he didn’t come from the higher classes, but short enough to tell her he still cared about his appearance. His calculating, eternally bored green eyes seemed hard and ready for any threat, even here. The thief--which she had to keep reminding herself that he was--had good posture and a pretty face, gaunt like most other citizens of Kayala, but his eyes were deep set and heavy-lidded. He must hail from Shenzou then, or the border. There were plenty of girls from Shezhou in the House of Halos for the men whose tastes were, according to Foruj, “eastern.”

She scowled as she split her deck. One day, she’d get out of here. She’d leave all of Aniveroseá, smuggle herself onto a ship and sail west until this damned holy city was only a memory.

For now, she’d find ways to entertain herself.

“It’s Soryn, right?” she mused, running her fingers over the edge of a card, feeling for something to  pulse into her. When nothing came, she suffled again.

Meanwhile, the thief finally looked at her. “Yes,” he said. No accent, at least not one he revealed. He must’ve been born here then.

“Any last name?” Soryn made no effort to answer her. “Ah, you’re nameless then.” She offered up a smile. Finally, the pulse ran through her fingers. Amara looked down and flipped the cards as she said, “You’ll fit in here perfectly. Not a single girl here was born named.”

Suddenly her hands froze. There were three cards before her, all in the major arcana. In fact, it was the first three; the fool, the high priestess, and the empress. Amara looked up at him, eyes narrowed. Why would the universe have played a role in his arrival?

She slowly put the cards back in her deck.

“Not even the daughter of Khozyain?” he asked.

Amara laughed, although it was forced all the way from her lungs to her mouth. “Please tell me you don’t believe that.”

“No.” Soryn shook his head, and for the first time since she’d met him, he lips tugged up into a ghost of a smile. “Not for a moment.”

“Then a religious man.” She pushed her cards aside and leaned forward a bit. Foruj wouldn’t like that her greatest item was so interested--not when Amara had been taught that being mysterious and distance lured in more men, but Foruj wasn’t here.

His smile grew. “I don’t consider myself a con man in such a respect.”

She laughed, short and sweet, pushing back into the velvet chair. Her corset protested, shoving into the walls of her ribcage, making her breathing short.

At least he had a sense of humor.

“Then in what respect are you a conman?” she wondered, turning her gaze back on him. “Daggers? Hearts? Magic?” When she said it, Soryn’s eyes fell to the deck of cards, lingering there longer than they he should’ve allowed them. Had he seen what she pulled for him then? Did he know the meaning?

“Coins,” he said. “I’m afraid I don’t have your gifts, M’lady.”

But even as he said it she knew it was a lie. Everyone had magic, even if only an ounce, and had the universe truly sent him to her, then Soryn had more than he knew.

There was more she could say, but her time alone with him was limited, and as soon as Madame Foruj came into her office Amara would have to be the obedient lady she’d been taught to be, even though Soryn was to be stuck with her. She crossed her legs, folded her hands on top of her lap. Soryn’s eyes caught on her, and then flicker to the door. At least he understood her duty, but she needed to know his.

“May I ask what your intentions are, nameless?” It was no insult. Rather, it was an alliance. If she was to be stuck with him, she may as well know if he stood with or against her.

Soryn’s gaze slipped away from the door, back to the painting. “To protect you, nameless.” He tweaked his fingers, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw a single card slip out of her deck. Amara blinked.

The doorknob clicked, and she quickly shoved her cards behind her, keeping the one he pulled out hidden her sleeve.

Madame Foruj stepped into her office, raven wing hair swept over her shoulders, and was met with a thief and concubine who seemed to not give a damn about the other’s existence. She huffed and went over to her desk, making a point of readjusting Amara’s legs as she did so. As her master took a seat at her desk, beginning to go over the terms of Soryn’s guardianship, Amara slipped the card out of her sleeve just enough to see which it was.

She smiled softly and pushed it back in. Two of cups.

She was going to enjoy Soryn’s presence much more than she originally expected.

THE MAJOR ARCANA | WATTPAD (not published yet) | WIP PAGE

Taglist (pls ask to be +\-)

@azrance @sautrns @talesofthedivine

[until-we-fall-in-love]

creature-song

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, light Steve Rogers x Reader, light Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers, light Wanda Maximoff x Bucky Barnes

Summary: You should turn away. But you let it happen, let it happen because some dark, most trapped part of you wants to. A piece of you that you have chained like an animal, a mongrel bitch, and tried to let die. It paces inside you now, hungry and waiting and ready.

1600s America AU, Witch!AU, Possesed!Bucky, Gothic, Horror

Warnings: Smut, gore, violence, demons, possession, sacrilegious themes. This is 18+ as most of my works are.

If you are under 18 you should not be reading this!

A/N: hello guys!! this is a little late but its for @barnesrogersvstheworld​ writing AYAOTDchallenge!! it was supposed to be for halloween, but i’ve been insanely busy and i think November is spookier anyways because it’s when things truly die and whither away and the cold comes on lol. this is a whole mess, but i’ve been heavily inspired about witches and possession because of a class im currently taking! it got long so i’ll split it into two parts! enjoy and pls let me know what you think!!

my prompt was: the task of navigating darkness by candlelight

***

1692, Massachusetts

The day is filled with fog and smoke, a bleak grayness that shrouds all in it’s gloominess. The whole town seems washed out, everyone’s faces grey and slack. The crops are dying, growing brown and muted in color, fading away into death and nothingness. Your world seems covered in death recently, in the thick, heavy, inescapable blanket of it. 

There’s been another two murders. People torn apart, their bodies lie in the main road of town for all to see and gawk and pray over. 

Their blood is the brightest color you have seen in all of November. Saturated and sticky, sliding from them like the juice of berries in high summer, like the color the leaves had been before they’d all fallen away, like poppies and roses. Their skulls are bashed inward, as if made of clay, the sludge of them leaking through as flies buzz, buzz, buzz around them. As if they weren’t people once, but always food for insect, for the earth. Their limbs are twisted at strange, rag doll angles, and you think there was nothing but softness inside of them. No bone, there couldn’t have been with the way they lay there, all twisted and slack.

Their eyes are hollow. Open. Their mouths agape as bugs skitter and crawl and press outward in their feast of flesh.

There’s moaning in the streets, howling cries of a mother or a sister or a wife. It’s horrific, if you dig into the pit of yourself, but it’s the fourth pair of bodies that have been found dead in recent weeks. It almost isn’t shocking anymore. 

Wanda presses closer to your side, your dearest friend, her body warm and soft. Flushed with color and light, the cold nipping at her cheeks, her nose. The wind lifts her auburn hair from her cheeks, her lashes fluttering in the breeze. She catches your hand with one of her own, tangling your fingers together. Her palm fits yours easily and swiftly, as if it’s where she belongs, as if it’s where you belong, too. 

“At least he’ll stop breathing down your neck about an engagement.” Wanda says quietly, her lips brushing the shell of your ear. She is warm and lulling in the cold autumn air that seems to be pushing through your wool dress, your scarf. Trying to worm it’s way beneath and make a home of your body. 

Perhaps you will never be warm again, if the cold decides to settle deep into your bones.  

“What?” You ask, blinking away from the bodies, from your murky thoughts. 

“Mr. Fowler.” Wanda murmurs, nodding to one of the bodies, “He always upset you, he always pressured you for an engagement.” 

You glance towards the bodies once more, find the shape of them, the faces so crudely misshapen now, but you finally catch the lines of his features. The dark hair, short and balding. As if you finally see the full picture. 

Oh. It’s Mr. Fowler, then. And Mr. Adams rotting beside him. 

“Yes,” You say quietly, weary of the spark in Wanda’s eyes, the glimmer that ensnares you, “I suppose so.” 

Wanda is all you have in recent years, another orphaned girl your village does not wish to worry or feed. So you worry and feed each other. You both claim to be trying to find husbands, trying to marry off into another household. Truthfully, though, neither of you have ever searched. You’re content to live together, secluded, removed from all of the prying eyes of your small, imposing world. You wish to go home with her now, in fact, want to curl up beside a fire and lean into her side until your eyes grow heavy and soft. You want her nimble fingers carding through your hair, her touch upon your neck-- 

A broad hand comes down upon your shoulder then and you jump, almost let out a yelp in surprise. You whirl around to face them, tilting your face up to find Steve Rogers looking down upon you. The sculpted lines of his face, the shocking blue eyes, the flush to his pale cheeks. He has always looked like a tragic hero to you; a Hercules, Perseus, noble and damned and fighting against all odds. 

Beside him, Bucky stands broad and pale faced. He won’t look at the bodies. There are deep, darkened blossoms beneath his eyes. It makes his already depthless and haunted eyes look worse, blackened out, charcoal blue. He crosses his arms across his great, wide chest; one of them the off-beat shine of metal, iron and leather creaking with the movement. Like a piece of armor, the leather strap reaching up to his shoulder, so that if he moves it, it may move the forearm of his appendage. The fingers lay motionless, cold and gleaming. Such an odd, strange invention to the rest of the town; they fear him because of it. But he has only ever helped you and Wanda, the way Steve has kept a watchful eye on the pair of you. 

If Steve looks like a Greek hero to you, you think Bucky looks like a Shakespearean one; damned because of his own choices, falling from grace; A Hamlet, Macbeth. 

“You shouldn’t watch this,” Steve murmurs to you two, already turning you from the gore and bloodshed with his warm hand, wishing the flesh of him would sink into you and flush you with heat, “Come on,” He then urges you gently, “Buck and I will help you with some morning chores.” 

He’s always been so giving, overly helpful, a twinge protective over the pair of you. Loyal, terribly so, as he stands beside Bucky, the pariah of town. 

And you let him guide you away, your fingers still woven tightly with Wanda’s, who still peaks over her shoulder at the seeping crimson of flesh and blood and body, as if they were petals of flowers to admire than corpses to rot. Her eyes glitter strangely when she turns back to you. 

Bucky follows like a shadow, head hung low. 

***

The crack, snap of wood being split into two is felt in your chest, the steady motion and sound falling into tune with every other beat of your heart. Bucky lifts the axe high with one arm, before bringing it down sharply upon the wood. It splits easily, a crack of lightning, of metal as it falls apart then. 

You feed the few hens that you and Wanda share, spreading feed onto the ground as they cluck and scurry around you. 

Steve helps Wanda fix the barn door, their figures blurry and grey in the fog and bleakness. 

You gaze at Bucky, the shadows that seem to cling to him. 

“You look tired, Mr. Barnes.” You speak up, tossing the rest of the feed to the chickens who scurry after it. You leave their pen, the gate creaking as you step nearer to him. The axe falls with strength and brutality, bursts the wood in half. 

“I haven’t been sleeping well.” He grunts, tossing the wood aside. He sets another piece upon the block, lifts his axe high. You can see the movement of muscle, the strength and cutting edge of them.

“No?” You ask, curling your fingers into your sleeves; you’re so cold still, stiff and frigid and snow hasn’t even touched the ground yet. You shiver, you think it will be an awful and long winter. “Why not?”

The axe smashes down upon the wood. 

He lets out a breath, shakes his head, the dark locks of his hair brushing his cheeks which are deeply flushed from the cold, from the exertion. He looks handsome, you think, with the peak of his chest beneath his long shirt. 

“I’ve been having strange dreams recently.” He then admits with the soft gruffness of his voice, eyes flickering to you.

You stand idly, know that idleness is a sin; you should be working. Working, busy hands can never sin. But you step towards him and your eyes watch the movement of his chest and torso, wonder what he looks like bare--

“What kind of dreams?” You ask, voice gone soft as you peer at him.

He straightens up a moment to his full height, now turning his eyes on you, “Curious little thing, aren’t you?” He half scolds you, and you feel small but suddenly bold. There’s a catch in his eyes, a gleaming not dissimilar to Wanda’s. It’s haunting, exhilarating, it makes you take another few steps closer as if drawn to him by an unnatural force. And then he answers, “They’re nightmares. Horrible dreams.”

“Of what?” 

His lips twist into a ghost of a smile and he shakes his head, “They’re not for a girl’s ears.” 

“I’m not a girl,” You counter, “I haven’t been for many moons.” 

His eyes flash to you, at the rather crude reference of the blood that spills from you monthly. He is not appalled, he is not shocked or scandalized, instead he peers deeper into you. As if he can see the twisting of your innards, all of the blood that might spill from you the way it had from Mr. Fowler. Would you paint November in the bright flare of red, too? Bring color to this washed out world. 

“I dream I slip from my body.” He says and his eyes grow glassy, far-off. You near him as he continues, “Or that I no longer control myself.” His breath stutters and you are fully ensnared in him now, “And I do monstrous deeds.” 

“Of what?” You breathe, looking up into his face, so haunted and hollow and frightened.

His lip trembles, and he exhales;

“I knew they would be dead this morning.” 

“Mr. Barnes,” You gasp and his eyes suddenly snap to you, wholly black and wide, and you are so startled that you try to lurch back. 

But he grabs you with speed and strength, and cold metal wraps around your wrist, around the fluttering, lively pulse beneath your thin skin. A moth’s wings pinned, a rabbit in a snare. When he speaks, it is strange and spellbinding, “I know you hated Mr. Fowler.” He says through a wall of his white, white teeth. 

You look down at the metal hand that seems to have come to life, yelp at the way the unnatural fingers tighten upon you, squeezing, as if they are his very limb. As if it is flesh and bone, a steel skeleton come to life. 

“I have peered into your soul, temptress, and I know you thought his blood was pretty.” He snarls low and guttural, his eyes digging into you like a curved, arching dagger. 

Wildly, your eyes fly over his face, now twisted into such misery and rage. You try to pull your wrist from his metal grasp, your face flushing with color from exertion. Your eyes glitter with sudden tears, the cold air pricking at them. “Mr. Barnes--” You gasp, voice catching, breath curling into the air between you two. 

All he does is pull you forward, jerking you into the strong expanse of his chest as he lifts your wrist. “I know your thoughts are rotting.” He rumbles, and the sound vibrates through him and down into the marrow of your bones “You want more than this. Your heart longs for what it shouldn’t.” 

“Bucky, you’re hurting me.” You whimper, trying to twist and squirm but it's useless against the strength of him.

“Am I?” He hisses, voice like insects swarming, “I know what you want, little one.” He then croons so lowly that it slithers down into you like a serpent, coils into the darkest, most wretched parts of you. Sinks down into your core to unfurl in a sudden burst of heat--

And with the way he looks at you; as if you are to be devoured, as if you are to be torn apart by him or worshiped on an unholy altar. Your heart beats an unsteady, thunderous rhythm in the cavity of your chest. 

It echoes inside of you, demanding of you something you don’t know how to feed. 

His body is warm against yours, unnaturally so, save for the frigid hand constricting around the delicate skin of your wrist. You think he’ll bruise you, you think he’ll mark you for all to see and you’ll carry his brand. His eyes are as dark as a starless sky, blown out black as coal, as black as the he goat in the barn, as the smoke of hellfire.

“Bucky!” Steve shouts suddenly, and the two of you lurch away as if something has forced you apart. You cradle your wrist, try to rub the ache away, your heart still ricocheting around inside of you, as if it very well might escape entirely. 

Bucky blinks in horror, his eyes returning to the gentle midnight blue that you know so dearly. He stumbles back, his metal arm returning inanimate by his side. If it weren’t for the frightened, wild look in his face, you’d think it would’ve never happened at all.

“I need your help for a moment!” Steve yells, voice echoing. 

A flock of black birds burst into the shapeless, endless, grey sky at the loud noise. You jump at their sudden explosion of flight. They squawk and screech, wings flapping like your heart beating. 

Whatever had filled Bucky has fled now and his eyes are clear and shining, his cheeks flushed again, no unnatural darkness tracing the edges of his features. You watch him warily, your mind suddenly feverish with what he’d said to you, with the searing touch that now seems to scorch your skin. 

I knew they would be dead this morning. 

You should tell someone; Steve, Wanda, a minister. You should flee. 

But all you say is, “Go,” And you nod your head towards Steve and Wanda, “I will light a fire to warm you after.” 

He looks at you warily, as if he might apologize or thank you or question you; there’s such confusion in his eyes. He is lost, swimming in that black sea. What did I do? He asks silently, pleads with you, what have I done? 

You look away, unwilling to answer. He moves on cautiously, towards Steve and Wanda in the distance. You begin to make a fire as if all is normal, and all you can think about is how you are no longer shivering with cold. 

As if an ember has sparked, been cradled to a small flame in the cavernous depths of your soul. 

***

Some days later, Wanda wakes you at an odd hour of the night, moonlight spilling in through the small window of your shared bedroom. It fills the room with reaching shadows and cutting, silver light. You’d been sleeping soundly, curled onto your side when you are roused by small, seeking hands. 

You turn, eyes fluttering, a blurry shape in front of you. You make out Wanda’s impish features, the shadow of her slender figure. And her eyes--

Oh, her eyes. 

They’re glowing strangely, fever bright and glittering like rubies in the night. She sinks upon you, her body sliding so she straddles your hips, laying herself along you. You can feel the soft lines of her; her chest to yours, the heat of her nose and lips upon your neck and shoulder. 

“Wanda,” You exhale, twisting, a little confused. Her fingertips are hot, like little embers, dancing along bare skin. 

“Hush, my heart.” She shushes, “My little shrike.” She cooes, “My moon and stars.” Her nose and lips brush your cheek, her searching hands dipping underneath the thin, cotton nightgown that wraps around your body. 

“Wanda,” You gasp as her lips settle into a kiss upon the flamed skin of your cheek. “What are you doing?” 

She pulls back so that you may see her in all her nightshade glory, her hair sliding along her bare shoulders, her nightgown down, spilling around her arms so the tops of her breasts are revealed. She looks almost wild-eyed, strange and beautiful and seductive in the night. Her eyes swim before you, blood red and glittering and enchanting. There’s something heady and intoxicating about her, something you want to taste, that you want to sink into and drown in. 

“Giving you what you want,” She says on a simple sigh, just as her fingers find the curve of your breast, little dancing flames that have you shutter and arch. She tilts her head with wide, bright eyes; there’s a sweet, coy smile playing at her lips, her lashes fluttering like moth’s wings, as she asks too innocently, her voice gone high and soft and beguiling;

“Isn’t this what you want, little one?” 

Her clever fingers find the peak, make you squirm, make heat flood through you. She draws back the covers with her other hand to find your bare leg, your bare thigh, sliding up to your bare--

“Wanda!” You jolt, suddenly shy, trying to sit up but she forces you down. 

She grins wickedly, “Don’t hide from me.” And her nimble fingers stroke between your legs where you’ve become slippery and warm and silky. You feel flushed and heady, hypnotized by her. She sighs against you, settles deeper into your body like a corpse sinking into a grave, pushing her finger inside to make you gasp aloud. To claim you, to touch you in a way that no hand has ever touched before. 

“This isn’t new to you, though, is it?” She breathes, almost hisses, “I know because I hear you some nights.” Her fingers twist and a moan tumbles out of your lips, and she laughs, bright and warm, “Just like that, dearest.” 

You squirm, and slowly lose your inhibitions with every push and pull of her fingers, every glide of her. Had you not dreamed of this? Had you not wondered with a sinful mind what it might be like to feel her like this, to taste and be tasted by her? Had you not wondered what heaven or hell might have felt like? She’s damnation, sweet salvation; something so visceral and entangled within the pits of you, something profound and holy. 

The world falls away so that it is only you two and the moon, the pleasure she gives and torments you with. The town slips away, the rules, the Bible, your Holy God all dissipates like fog until you are only born of this warmth and vicious sweetness. She keeps you teetering on an edge, cruel mistress of night that she is. She trembles with you on a new beginning, baptized between your thighs, between hers. She lets you touch and explore the softness of her body with curious and hungry hands, no longer idle. 

She brands you with lips and teeth and tongue, makes you wild and insatiable. Her fingers wrap around your tender throat as she guides you towards another sharp and jagged edge. 

Her cheeks glow against yours, a face of fire and heat, her breaths tumultuous and warm against your shoulder. “You’re mine,” She seems to half-sob, her little hand tightening upon your throat as if to claim you, “Mine. I live in you, and you have possessed me so thoroughly I think I could die.” 

A broken moan from you, a gasp. 

“Say it,” She then hisses through her teeth, “Say you’re mine.” 

You whimper, push your hips into her hands as if she has bewitched you, taken hold of your very soul. The words fall from your kiss stung and abused lips, eager and knowing it to be true, “I’m yours, Wanda, I’m yours--” 

And then she claims you with lips, with body and soul, forces you into oblivion. She laughs with delight against your mouth, drinks up your cries and buries herself into the crooks and corners of your body. Of your very being. 

She lays with you beneath the moonlight, a new strange power surges through her, a brightness that cannot be dimmed. You think she might be a devil, a witch, a creature of the night with her lullaby voice and twilight kiss. You think she is damned and maybe you are, too.

You think she has claimed you and, as you tighten yourself around her body, your nails digging into her soft flesh, you think that you have claimed her, too. 

***

Wanda has never looked brighter, more flushed with life and vitality. She is radiant, even in all the grayness of devouring and lonesome autumn, when winter is on it’s tails. The town is thoroughly terrified and sick with horror as another two bodies arise. They’re just as the others, a bright mess of crimson and maroon and sludge. 

Steve and Bucky stay near you and Wanda, watch over you both closely. Bucky is changed, too, something in him has been bent and broken and fractured. You think he’s bleeding internally, you think there is something in him that needs to be taken out. 

Or maybe it doesn’t. His smiles are more hooked, shadowed, strange and tempting. You wonder what his teeth would feel like against your neck-- if he would taste like Wanda, if he’d touch you like her, too. 

You’ve never touched a man before. You’ve never been touched by one, either. 

Wanda and Bucky are strange together, you think. And you grow jealous when you see her fluttering her lashes at him and cooing. You don’t know who you’re more jealous of, which one of them you want to claw and tear apart with viciousness, with love and heat and something demented.  

Steve notices this new change, too, and he tries to console you when you pout. You think he would make a good husband if a husband was something you were interested in. So valiant and golden, too polished for your unclean hands. 

But husbands are so base, so simple. Wanda has opened your mind to something higher, something more enchanting and powerful. 

And in the middle of the nights, when it is only you and her, she promises to give you more. She promises to guide you further into such wonder that she has discovered. Then she devours you and makes you tremble and shake with her might and love. 

She grows stronger with each day; odd happenings following her. She grows angry and a glass may shatter. A neighbor who glares at you suddenly loses two of his cows. Someone calls Bucky an abomination and suddenly they are struck ill. 

When she returns to you, while you still pout with Steve, still mad over her attention to Bucky, she smiles brightly. She wraps her arms around your shoulders and kisses your cheek, “Tonight is the night, my stars.” And then she nuzzles at your jaw, amorous and warm, “Tonight is the night that I give you all the power I have been harboring.” 

She takes your hands in hers, kisses the inside of your wrist, “Tonight you become like me, in eternal darkness.” 

Her teeth nick your wrist playfully and she looks at you with burning, hooded eyes. You think if she could, she’d lay you out on the dirt and take you right there. Hitch up your skirts and grind her hips against yours until you were both desperate and wild for release. 

But Steve is there, and Bucky, too. 

You wish she would, still. 

She laughs and saunters away as if she knows your thoughts. The wind howls and bays, as if it knows, too. 

***

She dresses you that night in a thin, white gown. You whine that you’ll freeze to death, but she shushes you with burning lips. She promises not, promises that you will never feel cold again after tonight. 

She leads you barefoot and shivering out to the forest by the dim, flickering light of a candle. It burns in her hand, wax dripping and sliding the way honey does in the summer. You long for summer suddenly, for the warmth and sea of green. The candle casts little, dancing shadows that seem to lurk and follow you both.

She leads you by hand, guides you into the thick of the forest where the wolves howl and the foxes yip and the coyotes yowl. The owl cooes, eyes peering at you in the darkness. You are lead to a clearing, and the small, fluttering candle that you’ve used to navigate illuminates the shape of a man.

Large and muscled, broad shouldered and lonesome in the woods. 

“Don’t be scared,” Wanda coos, “Go to him.” 

Warily, you ease past her, past the flickering, gold light of the candle. And even in the darkness, you recognize his face, the unnatural metal arm--

Bucky stands bare from the waist up and you flush at his nudity, at the shape of a man. Hadn’t you wondered about his chest beneath his clothes? About his abdomen? Your eyes flicker lower and you blink, quickly avert your eyes as your blush grows deeper. His body is far different than Wanda’s. 

“Mr. Barnes,” You breathe, and Wanda comes to your side, lifting the candle up to illuminate his handsome and shadowed face. 

His eyes are purely black, inky, the way they’d been that day not so long ago, when he’d seized you so tightly. He looks different, cutting and jagged. 

“Somewhat.” Wanda answers you with a smile. “He is changed, though.” 

“Possessed,” You gasp, the thought striking you deeply and suddenly. Like a blow to your chest, you realize you gaze upon a demon. 

His eyes snap to you,“Hello, temptress.” He says in a voice that is his and not his all at once. 

“Are you afraid?” Wanda purrs and you shudder at her voice, at the cold that pricks your skin, at the hungry, hollow look in Bucky’s face. The forest seems alive and breathing, shuddering with you, terrified and expectant of what it is to transpire. 

The moon is full, hanging and heavy and open mouthed in a horrified scream against the sea of blackness. 

“Should I be?” You ask quietly, a whisper of the wind, and Wanda’s eyes glitter excitedly. Her eyes flash red, warming and shimmering like embers. 

Wanda sets the candle aside, comes to your back. She slides her fingers beneath your nightgown, begins to ease it down past your shoulders. You should protest, you should force her to stop, shield yourself from the gaze of the man in front of you. From the demon in front of you. But you let it happen, let it happen because some dark, most trapped part of you wants to. A piece of you that you have chained like an animal, a mongrel bitch, and tried to let die. It paces inside you now, hungry and waiting and ready. 

It runs its teeth along the tender, pink inner flesh of you. It’s creature-song sings to you now, a siren to surrender to.

So you stand in the darkness, the guttering flame of the candle upon you, bare and shivering in front of evil.

And evil lies you on the cold, unforgiving ground. Wanda is there beside you, stroking your face and your hair with warm, gentle fingers. More gentle than she has ever been with you, as if she can hear the fearful, pounding of your heart caught between your shuddering ribs. You’re suddenly new to touch, virginal and trembling, a new flower to be opened.

The weight of Bucky settles upon you, his body unnaturally warm and burning, his broad shoulders wide upon you. His lips and nose nuzzle your jaw, your neck, also with surprising care. You shift your legs, open them tentatively to fit his waist in the cradle of your hips and—

You can feel him there, the hard line of him and you flush, suddenly squeak. 

“Don’t be afraid, little one.” He rumbles, and his voice sounds clearer, as if the demon doesn’t speak for him any longer, but only the midnight timber of Bucky’s sweet voice. He lifts his head and only the slate, blue eyes of him gaze down at you. “I’ll be gentle,” He promises, rubbing his bearded cheek to yours; so rough compared to Wanda’s smooth one. 

“I know this is what you wanted.” Wanda says softly, her lips at your ear, tucking your hair from your face. “I know how you gaze at him.” 

The first touch of Bucky’s hands are rough and make you jolt; one calloused and scarred and another cold and metal. They slide along the dips and curves of you, firm and gentle. You squirm slightly, base and animal upon the ground. 

“I’ll make you mine,” He murmurs, nosing at your neck, his teeth skimming lightly there. “My bride of darkness, queen of beasts.” His voice dips now into that lowly, snaking one of a demon, “I’ve been waiting for you for so long, my love.” 

His hips roll, a push against yours that have you clinging to his large frame. He is so much bigger than what you know, so overpowering. Wanda ravishes you but she is slight and nimble. You make a noise of surprise, a whimper, a squeak. 

“Relax,” He coos darkly, his flesh hand sliding up your bare legs. “You’re hurting here, aren’t you? Aching in the pit of you.” And his warm, rough fingers slide against you; revealing that, despite your fear, you’ve become molten and slick. You can feel his hooked grin, “Oh, little queen, and how you’ve longed for me, too.” 

He strokes until you are pliant beneath him, urging you on, Wanda pressing kisses to your cheeks and neck, collar bones and shoulders. You shudder beneath him, let something inside of you curl and coil, like a serpent, like the tightening of a rope, pulled to its full length, creaking and swaying as everything grows that much tighter. 

“You were born for me,” Bucky’s rumbling voice is in your ears, against your throat laid bare for him, his voice seems to echo in the darkest pieces of your mind and heart. “Born for this.” He sighs, leaning heavier into you before he suddenly pushes down the length of your body.

He settles between your legs, spreading them wide with his shoulders. Pearl moonlight, silver and opal fall across his features like pale silk that you have only ever dreamed about. In this light, he could’ve been an angel, a creature made of softness and delicacies, his black eyes turning up to find you and stuttering back into lovely blue. 

He bows his head like you could be holy, like you are to be prayed to. His hair tickles the bare skin of your thighs, his fingers prodding gently and then his mouth presses to where you’re most sensitive. 

You arch like a bow off the ground at the first touch and Wanda is there to comfort you. She eases you up slightly, let’s your back lay against the soft warmth of her chest and strokes your face and neck, down to your breasts. 

She grasps your hands when you pull and twist at him so that you lay helpless in her arms, helpless to the too-hot glide of his mouth against you. The forest is silent save for your cries, you are the wolf that howls, the crying fox, the whining coyote. You let go, let them consume you until you don’t recognize yourself. Until your nails feel sharp and your heart feels so full it could burst from all the aching. 

“Please,” You whimper, your hips pushing towards his lips in desperation, “Please, I can’t take this any longer!”

He laughs darkly against the slick pink flesh of you, “Didn’t their God teach you patience, darkling?” 

And he waits until you’re nothing but an animal for him, until your head is spinning and there are tears streaming down your heated cheeks. Not until you dig nails into Wanda’s hands so deeply that you have broken skin and she hisses through her teeth. He gives you no release, cruel as he is, and eventually slides up along your body once more. 

He grasps Wanda by the back of the neck and pulls her sharply to his shining lips. She moans, the sound going straight down into the depths of you. 

“My loyal servant,” He tells her, his eyes once more black as a raven, shining under the flash of silver moonshine. “You brought her to me.” He murmurs reverently and she looks up at him adoringly, her wide eyes that flare deeply red and maroon are glittering like gemstones in a cave.

“Make her ours.” Wanda then breathes, and he smiles all sharp and gutting. 

He grasps your hips with metal and flesh, draws them closer and slides you towards him. Your head falls to Wanda’s abdomen, her lap. Her fingers brush your wet cheeks and you mewl, twist into her touch. He kneels before you, worshiping, and opens his trousers. 

You don’t have time to think because you can feel him between your legs now. He brushes the hard length of him along where you’re most sensitive and desperate. You feel empty suddenly, knowing that he will fill you, and suddenly tentative. 

He is large and burning and the crown of him dips inside of where no man has been. He exhales harshly, eyes seeped in black, so depthless and dark that it swallows the moon light. The first slow, heavy push of him makes you cry out.

“I-I can’t—“ You half beg, feel the stretch and breach of him deep inside of you, the pressure and heat that terrifies you. 

“Oh, you will,” He almost growls, as if you’re undoing him. His eyes are fixed to where he eases in deeper, slides slowly and he groans, broken and in the back of his throat. “You will, even if you’re so small.” 

Another slow push and then he sinks into you entirely, sinks down so that he covers you in all his strength. His breaths are ragged; he is unwoven by you, falling apart as he stretches you open.

You give another cry, hold incredibly still beneath him as the pressure mounts. You feel as if you’re splintering, broken open like ripe fruit, bursting forth with a new heat. Your hand squabbles over the muscles of his back before sinking into his skin with nails. 

You become overwhelmed, drag your nails deep into his skin to mark him, to urge him on or force him out, you can’t tell. You bare your teeth, let out a broken moan, a half-growl against the vein of his neck. You realize your own vulnerability, belly-up and soft to him, open and waiting. 

Wanda soothes you when he begins to move in you, traces her fingertips over your swollen lips, sinks inside the sweetness of your mouth and lets you suckle and kiss and bite. There’s a fever inside you, tormenting your insides. You whimper, the sound pulling at Bucky, and when he looks back down at you, his eyes burst back into blue. The demon seems to slink away, or Bucky has regained control, again. 

You almost expect him to jolt away again, to flush with fear but—

“Oh,” He gasps instead, unraveled man, fallen from grace. He gathers you in his arms, pulls you closer and tucks you into him, as if he could pull you beneath his skin and bury you behind the strong bones of his ribs. He holds fast to you, suddenly lifts you into his lap, into his arms. “Oh, pretty girl.” He murmurs as he moves you slowly over him, foggy and heady with you. 

Your world begins to blur. You don’t know where the demon ends and Bucky begins. You don’t think you care, when all of that pain and burning gives way to a hedonistic pleasure. You move over him on your own, can feel the slickness of you, you can feel the deep seated ache you need to ease. 

The teetering edge, the right and creeping rope, ready to snap. The leash on the beast inside of you begins to splinter. 

Wanda’s at your back then, lips at your neck, brushing your ear. “Repeat after me,” She murmurs, voice a lulling warmth that sinks into your marrow. 

“Et dabo tibi animam meam,” She murmurs, her voice gaining a haunting, otherworldly inflection, as if other voices buzz alongside hers. 

So you repeat with a thick, honeyed tongue the Latin words that seems to simmer and etch themselves into you. You feel the power surge in her, in him, in you; a tether woven tightly between you three. His thrusts become rougher, his eyes flooding with crude black once more. 

“Nunc, et in perpetuum magis.” Wanda finishes in your ear, a possessive hand curled around the bones of your waist, along the curve of your breast. 

The words fall from your mouth as easily as if you’ve known them your entire, unforgiving life. And then there is a pull, snap of your heartstrings. The howling mongrel in you bursts loose, the heat and life and viciousness unfurls from within. You feel as if you’re being torn apart, as if another creature is clawing its way out of your core, your soft stomach and aching chest. 

The demon groans, spills inside of you; his seed so hot that you feel it may burn you. As if it burns its way through you, into your womb and heart and being. 

“You’re mine now,” The demon and Bucky say, rough hand cradling your cheek. “Semper magis.” He hushes against your lips and seals it with a claiming, damned kiss.

Then he sinks talons into your soul, teeth into your bottom lip and your heart, locks his essence tight to yours and throws away the ancient, heavy key.

***

Part Two

[spookysnicket]

Brahms, Jason, & Bubba HCs

@abduction-seduction: Omg yes pls!!! Could you do hcs or something for Michael Brahms Jason and Bubba with their lady dealing with an angry uterus?? I’m so irregular that when I do get it, it is from Hell. Will not stop bleeding (BLEEDING OVER EVERYTHING AND RUINING LOTS OF CUTE THINGS) cramps that make my stomach upset. All I want to do is lay in the fetal position and eat/and or drink/ chocolate all day 😂 I just want cuddles from my favorite slashers 😭😭😡😡❤️❤️ Thanks so much 🥰

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(Again, I keep wanting to write drabbles instead of HCs- so these might be a little lengthy ): Sorry love! But I hope these make you feel a bit better! HCs below the cut)

Brahms Heelshire

🔥 Brahms is the most educated on menstruation out of these three- after spending so much time in the walls observing mummy and daddy, he’s vaguely familiar with the concept of what’s up with your downstairs

🔥 Though, granted Mrs. Heelshire’s age, it’s likely that Brahms has gone a while without anyone experiencing a period- if we’re assuming none of the previous nannies stuck around long enough to endure theirs in the manor

🔥 It was still rather early in the day, Brahms just finishing breakfast and watching you unload the newly delivered groceries. Breaking out of his trance, he noticed something odd sitting on the counter top across from him

🔥 A surge of curiosity pulsed through Brahms, who took a last mouthful of food before moving his mask down over his exposed lips and scooting himself away from the table. He moved to the sink with his clean plate, eyes still glued to the package all the while

🔥 Picking it up earnestly, he looked to you with cheerfulness in his eyes, “Y/n? Is this for me?” Brahms held out a bar of chocolate you’d made a last minute request for, upon discovering that your time of the month had arrived

🔥 “Well, maybe a little could be- if you’re a good boy, that is.” You smiled, though, in the back of your head now realizing that in hindsight you should’ve ordered an extra for the ever so insatiable Brahms

🔥 “Then what’s it for?” He questioned, sure to add a tinge of dejected tone. “Well, my period. I had a craving, so-“, “Period?” Brahms interrupted, cocking his head to the side

🔥 You giggled a bit at his bewilderment, “Time of the month. Err, menstruation- do you know what that is, Brahmsie?”

🔥 His head popped back to it’s previous even posture and his face flushed- body tensing with a jolt of embarrassment. Brahms nodded slightly before extending the bar of chocolate to you like a scolded child

🔥 “No need to be embarrassed dear.” You placed your sweets back on the counter and swiped up an empty box, raising onto your tiptoes to press a kiss to Brahms’s cheek before sauntering out of the kitchen

🔥 When you returned, you found an uncrusted PB&J waiting on the dining table, with a square of chocolate on the side

🔥 “Daddy always made mummy meals when she was unwell.” Brahms mumbled softly as he pulled a chair out for you. He didn’t allow for your response as he cleared his throat and continued, “What other cravings do you have, y/n? I’ll make dinner tonight, perhaps dessert, too?” Nervous excitement extenuating his words as he babbled on- his thoughts playing out overly exaggerated scenes of you relishing in his assortment of Michelin Star worthy sandwiches (accompanied, of course, by hopes of earning some of that ‘good boy’ chocolate)

Jason Voorhees

🏒 Though Jason is far from cleanly, and certainly one of the last people you’d think of to be off put by things like blood and gore- there are exceptions for you

🏒 Initial dread sets in after he’d walked into the cabin and noticed you lying on the shared bed, motionless and swaddled in red smeared sheets

🏒 ‘Campers? He was sure he didn’t miss any of the pestering trespassers. Had someone broken in and hurt you?’ Are just a few of the manic thoughts swirling Jason’s head like a hysteric tornado

🏒 He trudges over to you in incredible silent strides, ripping you out from the bed to assess any damage

🏒 You, of course, are startled and frankly scared shitless as you’re torn from your warm blankets and deep slumber by a very handsy Jason

🏒 Pawing, gripping, and groping at your sleepy form- Jason man handling your body is an act so out of character for your usually docile and gentle lake zombie, that it grants for your first reaction to be equal concern

🏒 It takes you a moment to connect the dots, with Jason’s hands speeding around you, but he quickly deduces that the deepest blotch of dark crimson is located between your legs. As he goes to heave them apart in search of your wound, you yipe and push his hands back

🏒 Grunting in surprise and guilt, Jason’s grip finally leaves your body as he looks into your eyes in search of explanation

🏒 Flustered and distressed, an overwhelming feeling of embarrassment floods your every vein as your nerves fire off, cringing into yourself and instinctively covering your face

🏒 “Don’t worry, Jason. It’s just my period.” You trail off sheepishly, though Jason isn’t comforted by the answer one bit

🏒 Too ashamed to say a single word more, you hurriedly rush off into the washroom

🏒 While you shower, Jason absently works on dinner- engulfed with hurt and concern before his thoughts are dissolved by one fond, motherly voice

🏒 Pamela makes a very welcomed visit to her boy in this time of need, guiding him through all the wonders of the uterus experience

🏒 Once out of the shower and into a new change of clothes, you’d all but managed to wash off the regret of earlier’s events. You reflected in the mirror for a while, working out ways to help Jason understand your body, and to apologize for leaving him in such a distraught state

🏒 Peering out the door and into the bedroom, Jason sat rather uncomfortably for his size on the side of your now made bed

🏒 Standing in the doorway, you mustered the best explanation you could. Jason leaped forward, cutting you off mid apology, and pressed you to him in a tight embrace. It was another rather unusually forward gesture from Jason, but one you found comforting- gladly reciprocating it

Bubba Sawyer

🐓 When it comes to Bubs, his family is a big part of his character, so that’s where we’ll start

🐓 These boys, ohhh these boys- the Sawyer clan has always had a strongly unbalanced gender ratio, so you’ll be mostly on your own when your monthly friend visits downtown

🐓 While Drayton has some experience with the cycle, he gets grossed out by it and wants absolutely nothing to do with helping you out. If you’re willing to argue for it, you can get excused from chores until the flow ends- as long as you promise not to bring up the topic around him again

🐓 Chop Top and Nubbins know that you bleed, but they never quite got the grasp of why. It probably won’t prove much worth to try and explain it to them either, since they won’t stop giggling like a bunch of school girls the whole lesson

🐓 And Bubba, poor Bubba, has no clue as to why one morning he woke up beside you with your legs all bloody. It sure as hell nearly gave him an aneurysm as he flailed over himself to shake you awake with mortified whinnies and screeches

🐓 Your makeshift pad was no match for the wrath the old ovaries had harbored overnight, it seemed

🐓 As you’d not thought to mention or explain your period to Bubbsie, he’d gone and thought that during his restless sleep- he steamrolled you flat as a mat, and you’d bled out like a squashed bug

🐓 After calming Bub down to gentle sobs, you explain that it’s just “something people with certain parts have to do every month”, bless his heart

🐓 You were so calm about the whole situation, that to him was a full on red alert emergency. You’re so brave!

🐓 Groggy, his mind still hazy from sleep and brain scrambled by the aftershock of sudden panic and this bizarre new information- Bubba was once again befuddled after you casually switched to complaining about the mess all over your favorite panties

🐓 His heart as noble as always, Bubs managed to click into care mode despite his utter confusion, lurching off the bed and over to the closet in search for fresh clothes

🐓 Bubba tenderly laid a set of day wear onto your lap with a couple tender pats before shuffling over to your side of the bed- tugging on the sheets lightly as to ask you to stand so he could change them

🐓 You thought to do so for a moment, before yawning and groaning at the all too familiar sensation that pulsed threateningly in your abdomen- the dreaded morning cramps

🐓 Instantly detecting your unsettled reaction, Bubba recoiled his hands to his chest, worrisome whimpers escaping his lips

🐓 He kneeled down in front of you as you rubbed your stomach on the edge of the bed. “Hey Bubbie, sweetheart, you think we can lay down a little while longer?”

🐓 With a few earnest nods, Bubba removed the clothes that sat on your lap and crawled back onto the bare mattress beside you- shoving the stained sheets to the foot of the bed

🐓 Considering repeating the gentle circles he’d seen you massage into your belly, but too fearful to put you in further pain, Bubs reached an arm above slowly- gauging that you’d push it away had you not wanted to be touched- and delicately placed it over your tum

🐓 Your content sigh was enough encouragement for Bubs, as he nuzzled himself into the crook of your neck and began to glide his hand over your midsection with a comforting pressure- cooing to you with gentle hums

[allonsysilvertongue]

Different Page

Hello! I know I've been missing from the hayffie world for ages. I wrote this while bored and I know it won't be as good as what I used to write so pls go easy on me. Also, really excited about that Hunger Games prequel we're getting next year!

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The Ballad of A Drunk & His Lady: Different Page

Twelve was different nowadays.

Effie glanced around, taking in the sight of the train station. It wasn’t as crowded as Four or the City, but there was definitely more people commuting as of late. There was a ticket booth set up to the left of the station’s main entrance which was never there before and it showed one the most glaring development Panem had gone through since the fall of the Capitol – the freedom to travel between districts.

Leaving the station behind, Effie took the familiar route to Victors’ Village. Today in particular, it brought back a rush of memories especially the time she came to Twelve as an Escort for the Third Quarter Quell. She blamed it on the reports she spent the last one and half weeks pouring over for the Council, a task that had been given to her as the only surviving Escort in Panem.

The ringing from a bicycle startled her out of her thoughts. She stopped to give way to the teenage boy with a big basket mounted behind him on his bicycle, carrying bags of flour.

“Thanks, Ms Trinket,” he shouted over his shoulder before disappearing at the next bend to Peeta’s bakery.

She wondered what this week’s special would be at the bakery. It was always something different each time she visited, which she would later on in the afternoon. First, there were other agendas on her itinerary.

Standing at the fountain in the middle of Victors’ Village, Effie took a deep breath before crossing the threshold to the run down, familiar house. Haymitch had adamantly refused to repaint the exterior no matter what she said. It had now become an amusing point of contention between them, amongst other things. At least though, the overgrown weeds were under control so Effie took that win.

She knocked and waited patiently, knowing full well that Haymitch usually takes his time to answer the door.

“Good morning, Haymitch,” she greeted him with a warm hug.

He grunted in response but brought his arms around her before stepping back to allow her in.

“How have you been?” she asked politely, taking off her coat and scarf.

“The same,” he shrugged, an answer he gave her each time.

Effie tutted in disapproval.

“Perhaps a trip will do you good, as I have often suggested.”

She watched him wave her suggestion away. Haymitch ambled over to the kitchen, limping slightly. It pained her to see him this way but he seemed to have accepted his bad hip from the horrible fall he suffered last winter. The two weeks he spent in the hospital in the City had been a stressful two weeks for her before he was eventually cleared to return to Twelve and she could once more breathe a little better.

He never walked the same since but he still treated her the same, and that was all that mattered.

Effie settled down on the chair she had marked as hers, watching him quietly put the kettle to boil. He took her favourite strawberry teabag from the cupboard above him and set it on the tea cup.

“Have you heard of the plans they have for Four?” she asked.

“The ones in the paper? Yeah, read about it. It’s stupid.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle. Of course he would think that of a carnival.

“I think it will be fun,” she countered, taking the tea cup from him. It was interesting how domestic they have become since the war ended. It was a shame though, she thought, that she was too scarred by the war for them to be anything more. “We are excited for it.”

“Hmm?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Annie, Jo, Finn and myself,” she clarified. “I will be inviting the children when I see them tonight, and of course, you are more than welcome to join if you are so inclined.”

He made a face and pushed a plate of sponge cake in her direction. She nodded her thanks but did not touch it. Knowing him, it could have been from a few days ago and she was much too polite to be checking it for moulds in front of him. It was best to just stay away from it altogether.

They stayed silent with Effie sipping her tea and Haymitch, his coffee. She enjoyed this monthly visit to Twelve, something she had been doing for the past three years since the war ended. They maintained a polite civility, often talking about Katniss and Peeta, about Johanna and Annie as well as her baby in Four. They talked about her work in the City but they never talked about them. Never.

Not since he tried that one time and she completely regressed into herself, throwing away six months’ worth of therapy out of the window. It had scared him off, and he would rather have her mentally healthy and physically well even if she would never become his rather than have her falling apart.

She wasn’t sure if they were both contented with this life, but at least she was. And she wanted to allow herself just this one time to be selfish.

So whenever she was asked, she would always answer that yes, she was happy because it was the truth. She was happy that Haymitch and her were friends; that he seemed to be more open and was able to share more things with her. Maybe that was what they needed; for them to be friends first before anything.

Their friendship was comfortable to her; it was new and yet, so familiar.

So she wasn’t sure if she wanted more. Annie had often asked and she had always shook it off. Being with Haymitch had been something she wanted more than anything else once, a lifetime ago. But now… She was a different person now.

War tended to do that to people – change them.

 “I’ll think about it,” he said, leaning back against this chair. “So, you doing okay?”

“Yes,” she smiled. “Oh, speaking of. I have taken the liberty to restock your multi-vitamins.”

As if on cue, he rolled his eyes but took the bag from her nonetheless. It started out with pills for his hip and since he was taking them, Effie took a step further and got him some vitamins for his general health. Sometimes, Effie thought, he had never imagined that he would survive the Quell, then the Rebellion and finally the war that when he actually did survive, he didn’t dare to take this chance at life for granted.

So he began to make an effort to take better care of himself. He would still wait for his shipment of alcohol that would arrive with her every month but it was no longer drinking to drown his sorrows and dull his memories. He drank to keep the shakes at bay; to keep this body from going into withdrawal because at this point, a withdrawal would likely kill him.

It was progress and Effie was more than willing to take that.

“Have you heard…” she began. “Plutarch is dating.”

He choked on his coffee but cocked his head to the side, waiting to hear the gossips she would bring in with each visit. Effie had certainly gotten used to this – this easy friendship with Haymitch.

Perhaps one day, things would be different but she had made no promises to him and he was not expecting anything from her more than this recurring visit and the time she spent with him.

They were both alive and that was all that mattered to each of them.

[myfandomsarekillingme]

Birdbox didn’t suck that much?

Alrighty, now I waited for the Birdbox thing to die down on purpose and I just finished watching it. As basically the Gordon Ramsey of horror I have to say I did go into it with as unbiased opinion as I could. (long post incoming srry | spoilers duh | trigger warning for yall who might need them)

Now, I have listened to some really bad creepypastas. Like not even Slenderman bad/cringy but just straight unscary and just stupid. I've also listened to some really really amazing ones that will probably stick with me for a long time. Now back to those shitty one. There are bad creepypastas with better hooks than that movie. OH MY LORD did it have a really bad hook. Seriously my question is did the writers pass a high school English class because that's one of the first things they teach you how to do. Anyways I liked the whole flashback idea. It made the traveling more enjoyable as it wasn't all just boring water. I didn't get why they added in Mal painting tho. Like it never became relevant again in the story and didn't really do anything. If you're gonna say she struggles with human interaction, killing off her sister is a really good way to progress the story and give Mal a character arc. BUUUUUUTTT, having her crash the car and then step in front of a truck? Predictable. Like sorry but I got the same feel i do when the writer of a creepypasta kills themselves at the end. Great. Awesome. If it wasn't done like a billion times before. (Yo su*cide is a really bad thing pls do not, I'm just saying if you are writing a story pls find something at least a little bit original other than "oh my gosh this monster i saw is so terrible let me write my last will and testament and stick it online")

I loved the "family" feeling the people in the house gave off. It was perfect. The combine personalities of everyone made a scenario that was likely to happen in our world. Everyone died too quickly tho. Not enough time for what was happening to really set in. Sure there should have been a rush of panic but everyone dying all at once? Yall just giving the conspiracy theorists a field day with "pack mentality". Let's skip ahead a little. Those two stealing the car? Great. Isolates everyone else. Letting the new guy in so everyone dies but the Mal, Tom and the babies? Awesome. Their relationship? Out of hecking left field. What in the world was that. Again you can NOT make it clear she is not a people person and then she just suddenly opens up to him. LIKE HELLO? Have you met anyone like that? Clearly not. (Skipping ahead again bc I'm getting tired of writing, this isn't for school what am I doing with my life)

SO. The kids are 5 or so when we first meet them. So Mal has been not pregnant for that amount of time. Sorry to state the obvious but,... WHAT ABOUT HER PERIOD??? uhhhhhhhhhh yall using the scraps of fabric for your eyes and I didn't see you grab a pack of pads anytime during the movie. Unless this is the hecking 1800 again and we are setting women in diapers when they get the "ha you had no baby bc you're not ready to have one" or in this case the "ah man it's the end of the world guess I have to make this even worse for you" monthly curse I don't know what's happening there.

Well now they are on their way to the compound or something? (Really predictable it would be a school for the blind. Not saying blind people are bad but speaking in genetics, you have to "breed" very carefully. If you want to keep people with sight you have to make sure there is people who can see. If you want to eradicate being able to see you have to do that. Not even going to go into the about of genetic inbreeding) Kids? Loved them. PSA if you are a motherly person like me don't watch this movie to be chill the kiddos are way too cute and you'll just feel bad for them. The names given to them (Olivia and Tom) at the end of the movies are also SUPER predictable. Wow you names your son after your dead boyfriend? Never would have guessed. Oh your adopted daughter is named after her mom who died two seconds after the baby was born? How original. The school place thing they ended up in was really nice. I liked the return of the doctor, brought it full circle.  

All in all Birdbox had A LOT of potential. The story idea was good and the characters were (mostly) 3d characters. The way they went about it though was just not scary. I felt no plot twists and there wasn't even a bad jumpscare in there. The best and simplest way to make this movies scarier would be the explain what in the hell is going on. I was lost the whole time. I'd like to know what caused this "outbreak" and why it made these people do this. Why are some people not affected in the same way? Here's some good ideas for why people started dying:

1) It was a biochemical attack gone wrong. It started in Russia so maybe it was the USA planting an attack on them and it went horribly wrong.

 2) A chemical outbreak in Russia. They were the ones developing it and it also went horribly wrong. 

3) They mention an "It" a lot in the movie. I wanted to see at least a little bit what "It" looked like. Even if it was just the camera and not the characters, we had the chance to see it many times

4) If there is an "It" where did it come from? Space? Some ungodly government experiment that actually managed to escape? Why bring it up if it isn't going to be important. And last 

5) It's both. A creature that brings about a chemical attack that causes humans to react in such a way their flight or fight response is triggered. Seeing no threat, they simply fight. Acting like the spores that can control ants, the human are driving to death to continue the spread of the chemical.

Overall I'd like to say I didn't straight up hate it. There are many different ways it could have been improved but it wasn't as terrible as many people make it out to be. But what do I know I'm just a teenager.