#this is partly in response to the anons i get every week or so asking me why i headcanon shaun the way i do

[mla0]

i wish transfem headcanons were as common and respected as transmasc ones, not just in slenderverse but in fandom as a whole. the only time i see transfem headcanons is when people say someone could be either (which is true, but when there's such a lack of one, it can be frustrating), or it's put on maybe One girl character, which i've noticed most people don't really care about to begin with, and is its own problem. at the same time, i don't think i'm really smart enough to delve about the complexities of the entire issue, and even if i did the last thing i like to do online is start any kind of skirmish or conflict

like i completely understand maybe people don't want to change a character's personality or appearance, but i also need more people to consider why they feel like a character being a girl would change anything about them in the first place

[kiss-me-cill-me]

could u write a cill character where the reader is super horny w/ baby fever, a breeding type fic ❤️?? I love your works btw!!

Oh anon, I love you for requesting this ❤️ Partly because I had already planned to write it lmao. And thank you so much!! Sending love right back at ya 🥰

Due Date

Pairing: Neil Lewis x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Your boyfriend is totally oblivious to your baby fever, but lucky for both of you, you aren't able to keep it bottled up for too long.

Warnings: Smut, breeding kink, floor sex, stomach pressing (?? idk how to even phrase this lol), mentions of reader being on birth control, some fluff, established boyfriend/girlfriend relationship

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

There had been only one thing on your mind for weeks now, and you could not figure out for the life of you how to get rid of the thoughts. You wondered if you would ever feel normal again, or if this was just going to be your new default state forever. The idea of that was maddening.

Neil, on the other hand, seemed to be somehow blissfully unaware about just how badly you felt like you might explode every time Marcia and Buddy came around with their new baby. 

You weren’t sure how that was possible, given that you practically sprinted over to the stroller every time they wrangled it into the store. How could he not have known, when you squealed for the hundredth time, every time, at seeing that chubby little baby face? Marcia had practically needed to wrestle her own child away from you the last time they’d paid a visit, and yet Neil seemed totally unaware of how badly you wanted one of your own.

Or maybe he just hoped that if he ignored it, your baby fever would go away. Your boyfriend had never exactly been one to take on responsibilities willingly, unless doing so somehow involved Gumshoe. The store was his baby, as he often joked, and you were starting to worry that that meant he would never have room in his heart for real babies. The kind that would giggle at Neil’s silly antics and look up at you with their big blue eyes, just like his, and-

You snapped back to reality. You had been daydreaming again, and you found yourself standing behind the counter with Neil, your finger stuck into the spool of a VHS tape as you worked at rewinding a stack of them together.

“You okay, babe?” he asked, sparing a glance in your direction.

You’d paused in your mindless task, lost in fantasy, and now you tried to shake off the fog that had crept over you, bringing with it the images of cribs and onesies and bouncing bundles that always seemed to end up in Neil’s arms. 

“Uh…”

He would make such a good dad. A fun dad; the kind that would take his kids on adventures themed after all of their favorite movies. Lightsaber battles in the kitchen. Quests for treasure in the backyard that would make Indiana Jones quake in his boots. Neil would have just as much fun as your future children - you were sure of it. And that thought was almost enough to make you jump him right there in the store. It was pure torture, living like this, and for days on end.

“Helloooooo?” Neil droned.

You looked over at him with wide eyes as he caught you indulging in your secret fantasies yet again.

“You… good?” he asked again, slightly concerned this time.

“I am; I’m… just a little distracted,” you said, hurrying to get back to rewinding the tape.

Neil stuffed the cassette he was holding back in its box, giving you a smug look.

“Yeah, I do have that effect on you, don’t I?” he teased.

You shoved him, and he nudged you back with an elbow.

“In your dreams,” you laughed.

Privately, you could feel yourself starting to ache at just his words. He had no clue how true they were, and you certainly weren’t about to tell him. Now really wasn’t the time for a baby; your logical side knew that. And as much as a part of you wanted to tell him, you knew that it wouldn’t make any real difference. You would just have to be patient and wait.

“Thanks for helping out tonight, by the way,” Neil continued, slipping back into the easy routine of rewinding tapes. “I hate doing this.”

“I know; me too,” you agreed. “Which is why I expect to be paid overtime.”

Neil looked at you, side-eyed.

“Do you even work here?” he joked.

“Not for long if I don’t start getting paid.”

“Okay, fine,” Neil sighed. “The usual rate?”

You giggled as he put his tape down and pinned you against the edge of the counter, pressing your bodies together as he kissed you. A series of quick, fleeting pecks; your hourly wage for helping him out.

“Hey! Overtime,” you reminded him, grabbing at the hem of his shirt as he started to pull away.

Neil leaned back over and gave you one more kiss, catching your bottom lip with his teeth.

Just then, the bell at the top of the door rang, letting you know that a customer had arrived. Neil stood up straight, clearing his throat in a very professional manner as he backed up a little. Even with distance between you, you still felt your whole body thrum. The heat on your cheeks seemed to burst as the lone customer wandered the store, browsing the aisles as you and Neil stood side by side and rewound more tapes.

“All set?” Neil chirped up as the man approached the counter. 

Neil went through the routine of checking out the tape, finally handing it over along with a receipt. He glanced down at the date that was printed on the slip.

“And you’re all set. Due date is… August fifteenth.”

Behind him, you made a small noise in your throat. Neil looked over at you, just for a moment, before he turned back to the customer and finished wrapping up the transaction. When the man had left, Neil turned more fully to face you.

“You’re acting weird, babe,” he said bluntly, scratching the back of his head. “Is there something going on?”

“Nope, never better!”

You cursed yourself silently. Why had something so stupidly simple as Neil saying the words “due date” lodged itself firmly into your brain as yet another excuse to obsess over babies? 

“If you need to go home, that’s okay,” Neil offered. “I can wrap things up here by myself.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted. “It’s just…”

“Just…?” Neil echoed, leaning toward you.

“Hearing you talk about… due dates,” you sighed, finally admitting defeat.

Neil’s look of utter and genuine confusion would have made you laugh out loud, if not for the fact that you felt compelled to burrow down into the floor.

“Should I not… tell the customers when to return tapes?”

“No, you dummy!” You avoided his eyes as you shuffled uncomfortably. “I just mean that- It just makes me think about babies!”

You could see the gears turning in Neil’s head a few seconds after you’d blurted out your confession, slowly reaching a conclusion before his eyes widened.

“Ohhhh. That’s why you’ve been so interested in hanging out with Marcia,” he laughed.

“Yes! Neil - okay?” you cried, thoroughly embarrassed. “I’ve been thinking about it for weeks, and I just- Ugh!”

You threw your hands up as you abandoned all attempts at explaining yourself. Neil was already throwing you glances, as if he had caught you in the middle of something scandalous, instead of just struggling to suppress baby fever. 

In a way, though, he had. Your thoughts really weren’t all so pure as just picturing him with your kids at the park. Babies didn’t just drop down out of the sky, after all.

Neil took a small step toward you, making you shrink back as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“You like the thought of me knocking you up?” he hummed.

The shock of him saying it so bluntly made you shrink into yourself a bit more. Neil wasn’t letting you go anywhere, though, as he placed his arms to either side of your hips, leaning against the counter.

“Maybe I just think you’d be a good dad,” you shot back, slightly too shakily to be believable.

“Mmm, I don’t think that that’s all you’ve been thinking.” Neil took another step forward, closing up even the most fleeting idea of any distance between you. “I think you like to imagine me filling you up until there’s no way that you couldn’t be pregnant.”

You could hardly believe the words coming out of your boyfriend’s mouth. This was certainly not how you had imagined any potential conversation going.

“And… what if I do?” you asked.

Neil shrugged, not nearly as nonchalant as he was trying to be.

“You tell me,” he said, lowly. “Do you want me to?”

“Want you to…?”

Before you could finish your sentence, Neil’s lips were on yours again, kissing you with a renewed hunger that seemed to extend to some deeper level. Before, things had been teasing and light, like they usually were between you. Now, they felt almost serious. Your head spun as you felt yourself give in to the kiss, letting your wildest fantasies surround you as you stood there, knees buckling at the strong ache that ran through your legs. You had to hold onto Neil slightly as he pulled away. 

“I know we’re not ready for kids yet,” you started, not very convincingly.

Neil was making it too hard to focus, as his lips trailed over the side of your face, pressing kisses into your jaw, your cheek, your temple. You hadn’t expected this reaction from him, and you were scrambling to figure out how to respond.

“So?” Neil laughed. “That doesn’t mean we can’t practice, right? There’s really no harm in that.”

“I… guess not,” you agreed.

Neil pressed a kiss to your forehead before leaning down to bite at your ear. You moaned - just a small sound you couldn’t hold back - and felt warm desire pool deep in your stomach as Neil whispered into your ear.

“I think you’d look cute, you know.”

He pulled back to brush a thumb over the very lowest part of your stomach, and the implication was obvious. “Do you?” you sighed, dreamily.

Neil pressed his body back up against you, and this time you could feel his hard length, digging into your hip. Your hands wrapped around his waist, holding him there as he answered.

“Mm-hmm. Seeing you pregnant would really just be a reminder of what I had done to get you like that, sooo… I think it’d be pretty hot.”

You wondered if Neil had any idea just how dangerous of a game he was playing. You knew he was only pretending. He and you both knew that you were on birth control. But… it would be so easy for things like that to change.

“You really need to start watching your mouth, Neil,” you warned him.

“I think I need to start watching you live out your little fantasies, babe.”

Neil’s next kiss was so passionate that he nearly bent you back over the checkout counter. His teeth caught your already-swollen lip once again as he snuck a hand under your thigh, pulling it up to hook over his waist.

“Neil! Can’t this wait til we get home?” you laughed, a sharp heat coursing throughout your whole body.

“Can you wait?” he countered.

That wasn’t really a fair argument. You very clearly could not, at least not based on the way you felt yourself clench around nothing more than the thought of Neil filling you up, just like he’d said earlier. You groaned as he kissed you again, sealing your fate.

“Okay, just - let me at least lock the door,” you begged.

Neil pulled away with a soft smile, and you could see just how incredibly hard he was through the outline of his jeans. 

“Hurry back, baby. Or I’ll have to come over there and get you.”

You practically ran to the front of the store, flipping the sign hastily over to “closed” before locking the door and drawing the blinds over all of the windows. It was already dark out, and you caught a quick glimpse of your wide smile in the reflection of the plate glass. This wasn’t the first time that Gumshoe had closed early for some less-than-legitimate purposes.

Suddenly, something crashed into your back. From behind, you felt Neil’s arms encircle your waist as he pulled you away from the window.

“Sorry, babe - couldn’t wait.”

His voice was close, burrowing into your ear as it nestled right next to the thoughts that continued to swirl in your head. You felt a rush down your spine at his words. 

Neil backed up a few more steps as he spun around, keeping you pinned to his chest, and then slammed directly into the shelves, spilling VHS tapes everywhere.

“Look who’s the overeager one now,” you laughed, arching back slightly as Neil’s hand grabbed roughly at your breast.

“Who said I wasn’t?”

Neil guided you down to the floor, flipping you over to face him as you landed among the catastrophe of VHS tapes. You shoved a few out of the way, making enough room to lie down while Neil hovered over you, busy with ripping off his shirt.

“Is this really how you treat the mother of your future children?” you joked.

“No,” Neil replied, looking down at you as he tore off his belt. “This is how I treat the girl who wants me to fuck my cum into her so badly, she can’t even focus on rewinding tapes.”

Neil shoved his pants down while you were still too shocked to speak, and then went to work on your clothes, nearly wrestling you out of them as he grunted above you. Neil sometimes got rough when he was excited, but you hadn’t ever seen him like this. Clearly, you weren’t the only one who liked the idea of him getting you pregnant.

Naked and lying on the floor of your boyfriend’s video rental store, you felt yourself practically drip onto the carpet.

“Neil, are you really gonna…?”

“Cum in you?” he finished. “Course I am. How else are you gonna get knocked up?”

Your face flushed. The line between real intentions and fantasy ones was already so dangerously thin, and you felt yourself grow even more excited at the idea of not knowing how serious he was. The two of you had always been cautious. Neil always pulled out of you, even knowing that you were on birth control. It wasn’t like anything would actually happen if he chose not to, but…

“Need you to take me nice and deep - okay, baby?”

Neil’s words snapped you back to reality again as you felt him line up. Your hips were hovering just off the floor, and the anticipation was killing you. You needed him inside of you, now.

“Okay,” you agreed breathlessly.

“Good girl.”

Neil sat up straight as he pushed in, and you felt yourself clamp down so hard that it was almost a miracle he was able to get anywhere. But he did, and you could feel every inch of him sink into you as he buried himself all the way, deep inside just like he’d promised.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he hissed. “But you’re not gonna be after I’m done with you. Fuck.”

You watched Neil groan as he squeezed his eyes shut and pumped once, almost cautiously. You could feel the drag of his cock as he pulled out, and you savored the slow thrust. You knew that this pace wouldn’t last long once he got started.

Neil’s hand drifted back down to your stomach, pressing softly as he pushed into you again.

“You feel that, babe?”

The sensation made you gasp. The slight pressure from Neil's hand made the fat head of his cock seem to nudge inside of you even more deeply; the feeling intense but addicting. Neil kept the flat palm of his hand pressed against you as he dragged out, then pushed back in, a little more roughly this tine. It was almost enough to send you right over the edge, and your hips inched up to increase the pressure.

“Fuck - you like that,” Neil commented, breathlessly. “Like feeling right where I’m gonna cum, don’t you?” “N-Neil! Fuck!” you gasped, unable to string more than two words together. 

It was absurd how quickly he’d brought you right to the point of no return. You could feel yourself, clearly about to let go any second, and you knew Neil could too. Your muscles were already spasming, clenching harshly around him, desperate for that last little push that you needed to tip over.

Neil grabbed your wrist with his other hand, only to drag it down to your clit. As he positioned your fingers, you heard him let out a small whine of his own.

“Fuck, baby - come for me, please,” he begged.

The added sensation of your fingers was more than enough to make you obey, and you screamed as Neil thrust his hips into you, pressing down harder with his hand. The feeling that washed over you was far too profane to be called good, but you found yourself unable to care about just how impure your thoughts were. You wanted Neil’s cum more than anything else in the world.

“That was so awesome,” Neil moaned.

His hands landed next to your head with a thud, as he fell forward heavily. The force sent a couple more VHS tapes tumbling off the shelf, raining down over the two of you. Neil didn’t seem to notice as he pumped into you again. 

“I wish you’d told me about this sooner,” he laughed. “You’re squeezing me like crazy; I can’t believe how turned on you get at the thought of me fucking a baby into you.”

You could barely respond, still coming down from a high that had left you shaking. Neil brought a hand to your face, cradling you as he continued to thrust, steadily picking up pace.

“I’m right here, babe,” he assured, pressing a soft kiss to your head. “Fuck, you’re so pretty like this. Can you beg?”

His request sent a jolt straight through you. The sound of his voice, slightly strained and right on the verge of cracking, almost made it seem like he should have been the one to beg you. But, then again, he hadn’t needed even a full five minutes to get you to come so hard that you still couldn't see straight.

“Neil, please,” you whined, letting go of all sense of decency.

“What d’you want me to do, baby?” he groaned.

You suddenly found yourself with both hands pinned over your head; Neil’s fingers digging into your wrists as he held them tight. He leaned all his weight into it, using his other hand to grab frantically at your hip as he picked up his pace even more. It hurt, having both arms pressed so hard into the floor, but you honestly couldn’t have cared less if it meant Neil was close.

“Fuck, Neil - want you to fill me and fuck me again and again. Want your cum so badly. Want you to-”

“Fuck!” Neil yelled.

You felt him rush to bury himself, deeper inside of you than he had ever been. His expression as he came was so twisted in agonized pleasure that it nearly knocked the wind out of you. The sensation was somehow different than you had imagined it; a wet warmth that seemed to spread through you and seep into your bones, still sore from being pushed down into the hard floor.

As he came down from his own high, Neil thrusted weakly a few more times. You felt his cum start to slip out of you, dripping down the curve of your thigh before pooling onto the carpet.

That would be awkward to explain. You hoped that it wouldn’t stain too badly.

“Holy shit, we should do that more often,” Neil breathed. He brought his hand back to your face, dragging his knuckles over your jaw as he let go of your wrists. “You okay, baby?”

“I’m… yeah,” you said dreamily, still unable to think quite straight. “Wow, Neil.”

“Yeah, I could tell you enjoyed that,” he laughed, moving inside you and shoving his cum a just little bit deeper. 

He had started to get soft, but you felt him twitch slightly at the new sensation. Your mind flashed back to earlier, when he had talked about filling you over and over again until there was no way you couldn’t get pregnant.

Neil kissed you sweetly on the lips, then pulled back to look at you. A serious expression bloomed over his face.

“Babe, do you have any other fantasies? You have to tell me if you do.” He kissed you on the nose, quickly, before continuing. “Can’t believe I almost missed out on the chance to breed your tight little cunt.”

Neil, clearly, hadn’t quite left this particular fantasy behind.

“I didn’t mean to not tell you. I just… I worried you’d think it was weird.”

“Baby, anything that drives you this wild would never be weird to me,” Neil promised. “Especially if it means I get to do this. You really do look so pretty stuffed full of cum.”

You felt your cheeks start to heat up again, and Neil pressed his lips to yours, softer this time. His tongue slipped briefly past yours, before he pulled away to look down at you. You were the first to speak.

“I really do think you’d make a good dad. Just for the record,” you said.

Neil brushed the tip of his nose over yours.

“You tryin’ to sweet talk me into doing all that again?” he teased. “Because I think we might wreck the whole store. Somebody’s gotta clean up these tapes.”

He gestured widely toward the shelf next to you, knocking over a few more cassettes in the process. 

You laughed, wrapping your arms tight around Neil’s neck as you pulled him in close for one more kiss.

[lovelyhan]

What are your mutual awards?

i'm so sorry it took me so a while to get to this ㅠㅠ partly bc i suck at thinking of cutesy awards to hand to my mutuals but here we go anyway~

p.s. i'm an actual Sap that says way too much so i'm hiding all this under a cut 🧍‍♀️

@hwanghyunjinenthusiast — i'm giving you the #1 hypeman award bc you're always so supportive of all the writers in the community 💘 literally every time i see your feedback towards both mine and other ppl's fics i smile a little bc u'll always be part of the reason why people would want to stay and do what they love doing on this hellsite 😽

(i'll also hand you the homie award bc you put up with each and every one of my antics whether it's spite writing or my shenanigans with skz 🤩🤩 our moot means sooo much to me, i hope we remain pals for a long, long time 🛐)

@toruro — you get the social butterfly award bc you're very interactive and easygoing to speak with 🦋 it's always a neat and dandy day whenever i see mika toruro sliding into my inbox to ask about my day. you're the sweetest, always 💘

@multi-kpop-fanfics — you're more than worthy of the best supporter award 🥇 because you almost always read my stuff moments after i post em 😭 i'll also be handing you a phd in making me lose my mind because i have not forgotten that one time i binged through the zeta fic discography (that and i'm still suffering from irreversible psychic damage courtesy of half past five high🧍‍♀️)

@duhnova — you immediately get the enabler award bc we always egg each other on to spend exorbitant amounts of money for little kpop boys printed on paper 🤒 an additional would be the (talks a lot) (listens) award bc you're always there to hear out everything i air out under the sun 🥹🥹 i hope you know that i'll gladly do the same for you 💘💐

@sluttyminghao — definitely the top contender for the all in a day's work award bc damn ?? you're always so consistent with putting out content?! i will actually fight every single ingrate in your inbox with my bare hands bc it takes so much dedication to cater to all the reqs you receive 🥹

@junkissed — june junkissed gets the osmosis award bc i swear i didn't love jun as much as i do now that we're mutuals 🧍‍♀️ it's your effect, i believe

@cheolhub — you're getting the nation's sweetheart award bc everyone is absolutely enamored w you (myself included <3) both ur moots and anons would do anything for you i fear ! 💐💐

@gyukult — gyu deserves the holy shit how did we become friends award bc i still can't believe u're in my dms talking abt cute merch w me when i was Just losing my mind over ybny a few weeks ago ㅠㅠ

@rubyreduji — *hands you the life of the dash award* bc you always fill my dashboard with ur shenanigans (along w mika) nd it's nice seeing fellow writers just vibing~ i'd love to talk to you more 🤝🤝

(p.s. sheep in wolf's clothing did a number on my wellbeing so i hope you're ready to take responsibility for your actions)

@etherealyoungk — i would like to give you the refreshing award bc every time i see you on my dash, i just think oh it's skye, i hope they're having a nice day ^_^ bc ur vibe just generally puts me in a good mood for some reason ASKJDKA

@97-liners — i actually thought abt it for a while if i should tag you bc i didn't wanna seem overly familiar but i'm awarding you the funniest person to ever exist in caratblr award bc i eat up your text posts like i've got munchies 24/7 🧍‍♀️

(i've always been a liiittle reluctant to interact bc surprise i'm actually capable of being shy ! but i'm shooting my shot now bc you're cool and i really love how your humor translates to your writing as well 🥰)

i reaaally wanted to make this stuff w all my mutuals but the brain is Not braining so lmk if you'd like one nd i'll personally write you a love letter on top of the silly little award i'd give out 😽

[zalrb]

Borgias Anon, Yes i did read your original breakdown. You mention that it really starts when Alfonso gets introduced. They start to get a little bolder.

OK cool, I just didn't want to repeat anything. So, the ask:

I'm going to widen the scope a little bit, I actually think Cesare's decisions in 2x10 influence that "unholy family" kiss because Cesare in 2x10 just starts doing what he feels. I mean it's all calculated and it's not impulsive, but he's finally doing what he wants to do, which starts at the beginning of season 2 , Francois had an interview about it

"He kind of goes rogue, such that he perceives he's the best person to defend the family, and he's not waiting for his father to approve of every single one of his actions any more," Arnaud told me last week during a phone interview. "Yeah, he's becoming the man."

So by the time the finale happens, not only is Cesare doing what he wants to do and killing Juan kind of frees him from the constraints put upon him from season 1 (and, well, birth) because the only way his father is going to take him seriously is with Juan out of the picture but he’s also just upfront and honest about it, like this is what I did, this is what I’m doing, I’m taking the reigns and I mean, hopefully you can forgive me but I did it and I’m continuing on this path

which then leads to him dictating that the wedding with Alfonso is going to happen even though his mother protests because it’s too soon and then at the engagement party, they’re pretty brazen and part of that is Cesare becoming fully-realized

which continues into season 3 because even before the kiss, when Lucrezia comes to him about her son and how they’re going to play this game to secure keeping him with her, Cesare’s response is bluntness, where he’s just like we are who we are

I’m going to do what I’m going to do when it comes to protecting your happiness

and that just bleeds into and I’m going to kiss you right now because I feel like kissing you so he’s not running away from his feelings as much as he was before

yet I don’t think he thought Lucrezia would be ignited by that or should I say maybe he thought he’d stir something, I think that was the intention, you don’t kiss someone like that and not expect to affect them in some way

but I don’t think he thought he’d ignite her to the point that she’d become more assertive in fulfilling this unspoken desire because when she takes it even further, he’s very quite willing

but he’s still quite shy about it

it’s clear he didn’t expect to be there

but that just releases something in both of them and Cesare does act impulsively at the beginning of 3x03 and it’s about him indicating how much she means to him

but it’s also very much this I-just-can’t-take-it-anymore

but considering their reactions after,

again, I believe Cesare thought, well it’s not going to get any further than this, he doesn’t dance with her at her wedding, partly because he’s scheming at the moment but also because he’s keeping his distance

and he’s genuinely surprised when she shows up in his bedroom

but of course, he gives in because he’s wanted to give in for so long. I remember there being a debate around the “you look but you don’t touch” scene that right before they’re about to kiss, he whispers “at last”,

I’ve watched it a few times, I’m kind of 50/50 on that but even if he didn’t say it, it doesn’t detract from the fact that they’ve both been simmering with this feeling and he’d been wanting this for a while -- even in that bedroom scene, when she says this

his response is this

which indicates he’s thought about her body and her charms quite a bit.

I just do think Cesare thought they’d be simmering for longer but he kissed her because he wanted to in that moment and thought, why not?

[haikyunicorn]

⋇ desperate times [ kozume kenma x reader ]

⩺ in which kenma decides you’ve been spending too much time on a game and not enough time on him

pairing(s): kenma x reader

genre: fluff!

warning(s): -

word count: 0.75k

requested by: anon

Kenma was beginning to think introducing you to Animal Crossing wasn’t the best idea.

He had invited you over today in hopes of spending some time together and it did go according to plan - at least for the first thirty minutes or so. He had shown you the new Animal Crossing game he picked up last week, letting you look over his shoulder as he moved his character around to do different tasks.

To say you were fascinated was an understatement. Even though he had his eyes trained on the screen, he could still see you watching with wonder from his peripheral vision, paying close attention to what he was doing in the game. He could also see how you were fidgeting, just barely, but he knew you well enough to realise you silently wanted to try out the game as well. He turned his head to look at you properly.

“Do you… want to try playing?”

It was like a switch had been flipped on when your face lit up at his offer. Kenma thought his heart skipped a beat.

“Can I?” you asked, a hopeful glint in your eyes.

Kenma nodded in response, handing the device to you. It was like the roles had been reversed now, with you playing the game while Kenma watched from beside you.

That was almost an hour ago.

The first few minutes, Kenma had given you tips here and there to help you out, but it didn’t take long for you to get the hang of the controls and begin to move around on your own, leaving him to observe you and only chiming in every once in a while. However, the more you played, the more immersed you became in the game and the shorter your answers were.

Kenma was starting to feel irked. He was expecting the both of you to spend some quality time together instead of- oh wait, is this what you feel like when he’s playing his games, too? A twinge of guilt bit him at the realisation and he made a mental note not to neglect you whenever he’s playing something around you. But back to the issue at hand - he was itching for your attention now.

When trying to make conversation was no longer effective, Kenma resorted to offering things to you.

“Y/N, do you want a drink?”

“Mm, no, thank you.”

“...how about some snacks?”

“No, it’s okay, Kenma.”

“...”

Kenma huffed quietly. You hadn’t even looked up from the screen. All he wanted was for his S/O to acknowledge him (and maybe a kiss wouldn’t hurt either). He sat there helplessly for another minute before he decided desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Kenma, look, I got a- Kenma!”

You were taken by surprise when Kenma plucked the console out of your hands and put it down on the desk before swiftly tugging you to lie down on the bed with him instead, throwing the blankets over the two of you. He positioned himself so you were facing each other, gathering you in his arms and burying his face in the crook of your neck, even partly throwing a leg over yours.

You weren’t complaining, of course, as you reciprocated his actions, wrapping your arms around him in return. But, you did wonder what prompted your usually passive boyfriend to suddenly initiate a cuddle session. “Is everything okay, baby?” you asked softly.

Kenma was silent for a moment. “I think you’ve played enough Animal Crossing today.” His reply was mumbled sheepishly, just loud enough for you to hear, and the tips of his ears had a light red blush to it.

You had to suppress a laugh at his adorable behavior. So he was jealous over the attention you gave to his video game, you concluded, though he probably would never explicitly admit it.

“Aw, I’m sorry, Kenma,” you cooed at him, “is there any way I can make it up to you?”

Kenma pulled his face away from your neck without meeting your gaze. He hesitated, feeling the blush spread to his cheeks. “Can I… have a kiss?”

The warmth in your chest blossomed at his request. “Of course!” You give him a quick peck on his lips, giggling at the sheepish look on his face. “You can have all the kisses you want today~”

Kenma couldn’t fight back the small smile tugging at his lips. “That’s good, then,” he hummed before leaning in to claim another kiss from you. “You have about an hour to make up for.”

[ taglist: @dorkyhaikyu @sugas-sweetheart​ ]

send an ask/dm to be added to the taglist

note: a repost bcs it disappeared from the tags >:(

[sector-i-closed]

Caught

Requested by anon

Model au + photographer!Hongjoong

Mingi x Reader x Yunho

Warning: Exhibitionism, anal fingering, double penetration, orgasm denial but reader comes, spanking one time

The day at work was not favoring you well in the slightest.

Already you had unwittingly succeeded in getting into a cat fight with a fellow model and your skin was also a mess after a breakout of acne littered your face and created chaos for the makeup artists who fussed over your appearance.

You were extra anxious today and wished that you could relax, trying to find comfort that the steroid that was used to control the inflammation of your acne that your dermatologist tried to console you but the best they could do was prescribe the steroid for you.

"Focus, focus on the camera, Y/N!" Hongjoong barked out, knowing that he could get a better face from you as he remained behind the camera lens, snapping away.

You were struggling to zone into autopilot, which was where you functioned the best for both photoshoots and fashion shows.

Part of the reason why you were more distracted then usual was this particular shoot required you to be partly exposed for the fashion spread of the upcoming issue of the magazine that you modeled for most of the time, though what made it awkward was that you were paired with two fully dressed male models that made you feel smaller than you really were and the attractiveness of the pair was enough to unnerve you, let alone the humiliation of being exposed and posing with them was enough for fire to rush directly to your face and awaken every cell of your body.

"Are you okay, Y/N?" The male model that you had came to know as Mingi spoke near your ear, his low voice prompting you to involuntarily shudder beneath the other male model known as Yunho's fingertips where his large hands held your waist.

"I'm- I'm fine... Just camera nerves..." You bit down hard on your lower lip, hating how you trembled at the effects of the male's that surrounded you.

"You've got this sweetheart. We all do..." Yunho encouraged as he tried to convince himself that everything would be alright as everyone moved their forms in front of the camera.

You wanted to sob in frustration, feeling a sense of arousal in your system and you chided yourself for feeling such a strong, intoxicating sensation around your coworkers.

"Hongjoong, it's time to go lunch!" The fashion coordinator who was named Yeosang called out to the photographer.

"I'm not leaving until I'm finished with my subjects." Hongjoong muttered sternly at the fashion coordinator.

"You'll leave if I bring Seonghwa to get your ass taken care of! Your fatigue is showing and to put it mildly you look like shit because it's apparent that you're not sleeping." Yeosang folded his arms across his chest and you watched the scene unfold before you with your coworkers.

"Don't bring my boyfriend into this!" Hongjoong scowled, "And this is what happens during fashion week.

Pack fashion shows to photograph into your schedule and the ad campaigns for the following season and that equals little sleep but I'm not complaining about it." Hongjoong shrugged, returning his attention to you, Yunho and Mingi.

"But it still doesn't give you the right to burn yourself out. I'm calling Seonghwa so he can get you to at least eat something." Yeosang threatened, visibly worrying for his friend.

"Alright fine! Fuck it! I'll go for lunch and come back to my project." Hongjoong growled irritation while the fashion coordinator smirked in response to the photographer leaving quickly.

Yeosang followed after him and other personnel left, leaving you and the two male models alone.

"Should we go?" Mingi voiced his question to Yunho as he took notice in your extremely flustered appearance.

"We don't have to! I brought my own lunch! I would love to share it if you two are interested!" Yunho replied cheerfully.

You groaned quietly at your own state of undress, promptly plodding to the bed that was being used as a prop for the photoshoot.

"I'm good..." You replied, bringing the sheets to your chest and lying down on your stomach.

"I'm willing to share!" Yunho pouted, whacking your ass playfully with his hand. A far more erotic sound then you intended to release drifted from your lips and immediately you froze in place, regretting your vocalization immediately.

"Uhm..." Your eyes were wide with fright as you looked up at Yunho who looked equally as alarmed as you did.

"Shit... That sounded so hot." Mingi quirked an eyebrow at you as he carefully drew closer to you, supporting himself by leaning against a bedpost and proceeding to gaze down at you from where he stood.

"I'm- I'm..." You stuttered out, feeling embarrassed by your vocalized actions as lust involuntarily clouded your vision. Mingi immediately recognized the look in your eyes, leading him to move closer to you as he gauged your reaction.

"'m pathetic..." You mumbled under your breath, clinging to the sheets as you desperately tried to reel yourself in from losing yourself to the feelings that ran rampant in your body, fighting an inner war with yourself regarding weather you wanted him to get closer to you or for him to stay as far away from you as possible when he was eyeing you so dangerously.

"You've done well to resist this long. It's up to you baby if you want to continue resisting or taste what you're wanting to experience." Mingi touched your back with a firm touch, sending shivers down your spine as you moaned out loud without attempting to restrain it this time.

"She's so needy for us. I wonder how she got this way!" Yunho cooed while touching the other side of your back.

"She was squirming at the way that your crotch would occasionally brush against her backside and her body was so hot..." Mingi's hand languidly moved along the warmth of your skin, sensing the smoothness of your flesh beneath his fingertips.

"Hngh...~ p-please...~?" You whined, drawing a blank as to what you were begging for. Arousal freely seeped from between your legs and the intense craving to be filled was overwhelming your sensibility to preserve your dignity.

"I'm not going to do anything unless you tell me what it is that you want." Mingi smirked as he stopped his hand at the small of your back, feeling goosebumps form beneath his hand.

"W-want to be f-filled up..." You moaned out reluctantly, turning onto your back to seductively gaze up at the two males that stood above you.

"Filled up by whom?" Mingi was enjoying dragging it out, even with the risk of the staff returning to the photo studio was adding to the excitement of the moment. You looked at Yunho then at Mingi, "Both."

~~~~~~~

"Come here, doll." Mingi beckoned to you from where he lied down on the bed, his pants down to his ankles as his feet rested flat on the floor.

You had stripped off your jeans and was now fully naked and you felt little inhibition in the present moment as you sauntered over to Mingi and straddled him.

Heat flooded your body when you sensed Yunho moving up behind you, "You're beautiful as you are in every way imaginable." Yunho murmurs softly and reached between your legs to pet your pussy, gathering your slick on his fingers and moving on to massage your perineum and then your anal entrance with slow circles that gradually gained confidence with each desperate mewl that you uttered while on top of Mingi.

"Just like that, babygirl." Mingi growled as he cupped the back of your head with his hand and pulled you in for an aggressive kiss, easily blurring your consciousness as his tongue invaded your parted lips with a needy ferocity that left you weak in the knees as he brought you down on his hard cock with his free hand.

You whimpered vulnerably from the firm intrusion of his cock pushing inside of your dripping pussy, feeling pleased from how well he stretched you with his girth.

Yunho was groaning from the feeling of your entrance greedily sucking his fingers deeper inside of your ass.

"So good and tight. I wonder if anyone has ever done this to you before?" Yunho asked curiously, withdrawing his fingers from your stretched entrance and shortly afterwards replacing his fingers with his cock.

"A-ah~" You whimpered, being unable to speak because of the pleasurable sensation of Yunho stretching your ass with his length.

"Shit I can feel you, Yun! So tight for us, princess." Mingi groaned as he sucked amarking at your sensitive pulse point.

"I can feel you too, it's amazing! Her ass is perfect, taking my cock so well." Yunho slammed his hips into your body, following the same rhythm as Mingi had set which was a rough impatient one.

Sweet, sexual wails left your lips as you closed your eyes from the overwhelming bliss of your body being filled by cock and used for pleasure.

Your eyes slid shut as you felt your orgasm approaching after several moments of being stimulated beyond your wildest expectations and Mingi's cock was twitching erratically with each thrust that was growing sloppier and sloppier beneath your body.

His moans mixed with your high pitched cries and Yunho's erratic breaths as he gripped your hips and chased his climax.

"C-can I cum pl-please~?" You begged, uncertain as to who was responsible for giving you the go ahead as you helplessly took the pounding that both of their cocks were giving you.

"No, let's get back to work. You three can play later~" Hongjoong's amused tone froze the male models in their tracks and you felt your orgasm rip through you at that moment, the humiliation of being caught pushed you over the edge and both Mingi and Yunho were astounded just as much as the photographer was.

"F-fuck..." You whimpered as you shakily removed yourself from the males.

"You may rest a moment to calm yourself, Y/N. Then we're back to work." Hongjoong nonchalantly remarks as he converses with another staff member who seemed to be shaken by walking in on the three of you.

"Can we continue this later?" Mingi asks near your ear as he held you to comfort you after your unexpected climax.

"S-sure..." You smiled at him weakly and giggled when Yunho nuzzled into you.

"I'm glad! I wasn't ready to say goodbye!"

Tagging @yunhoes-twancings-nsfw and @hanatiny my lovely people I love you sm 💖💘💓

[demonslayedher]

I'm glad you reactivated the questions, here are some flowers for you: 💐 Seriously speaking I'm sorry that because of a question I asked you a few weeks ago you watched a series of videos of psychopaths 🥲It made me laugh at first but then I felt guilty 💔 it's all Muzan's fault for leaving us all with curiosity (imagine his parents' reaction once they realized there was something wrong with him even as a human)

Yay, flowers (which I shall kill with my black thumb)! And no, no, it’s fine, I had hoped it came off funny! I like listening to stuff like that while I draw anyway because I’m a nerd anyway and I found it very interesting.

Speaking of being a nerd, you have innocuously unlocked the following essay about Heian period nobility and wisteria flowers: There is nothing to state so in canon, but I find it highly reasonable to say Muzan might had been of the very powerful Fujiwara clan. Step inside my office, Anon.

Okay. So. The Heian period, simply put, was a time of cultural flourishing and beautiful pastimes, the origins of a lot of Japanese style aesthetics, and a romantic courtly like of romancing everybody else in the court. This is assuming, of course, that you were at the very, very, very, very top of society. Otherwise, the vast majority of people were poor and sick and starving and ew, in young Muzan’s world, we do not wish to associate with that. In the Heian court, Kyoto basically is the whole cultural world. Even though there were other cities that could rival Kyoto, the emperor was there, so it was essentially the cultural center of the country. The nobles who lived there got money from owning land in far-flung provinces, but actually having to live in those provinces? What a drag! Having to live away from Kyoto for work, even if it wasn’t an official banishment, often felt like a punishment to the nobles and their families who were used to the social scene at court. And, like affluent courts around the world throughout history, understanding all the intricacies of style and “Heian Rumors” was key to having social clout, and popularity was power. And yeah, nobles would be vicious to each other. While clan dynamics and history are complex and not something I’m getting into here (I don’t consider myself well-versed in it enough), the Fujiwara clan is a BIG DEAL.  Basically, in Heian times, children were typically raised in their mother’s home, thereby heavily influenced by their mother’s clan, so besides a young man’s parents, his in-laws also would had been hugely influential in his life, as they will have a long-felt influence on his progeny. The Emperors typically married Fujiwara daughters. This, in addition to other positions of influence of the Fujiwara clan members usually held with influence over the Emperor, means that politically, there was no messing with them. Now, just because I say Muzan might had been a Fujiwara clan member, I don’t necessarily mean a member of the main branch of the family. Often, due to inheritance management, different branches of various noble clans might be given different surnames. The Fujiwara clan does have different branches, some of which did go one to have close ties with the imperial family even after the fall of their power at the end of the Heian period and all the way through the Taisho, and some branches carry some impressive family legacies but otherwise live like normal or high-class common folk in modern-day. (I know one such Ojousama from a renamed Fujiwara branch; she’s a sweetheart and never brings it up herself but every time I hear other people say things about her family, I’m like, dang.) We can venture from Muzan’s likely expensive medical treatment, multiple marriages (meaning other clans sought to be connected with his family even by marrying their daughters to a sick man), and even preparation for cremation as a baby that he was of a very, very high status. 

Being the sick son of a prominent family may have warped his personality in multiple ways: first, he was probably already used to a culture of popularity equated political power. We see in Muzan’s dealings with humans in the Taisho period that he can be exceedingly charming to get what he wants (a psychopath trait, haha), so he was probably pretty aware of the complex ways of socialites in the court. But, even being aware of that, it probably frustrated him to no end that he was too sick to take part in the social pastimes where he’d gain clout. It’s also possible that he was a bit of a bargain husband for his wives’ families who were seeking to a make ties with his family, as they must not had been politically useful enough to be married off to other powerful matches. This may be some of why he was so ruthless to them, for he never saw them as useful to him in the first place. This probably got a bit worse once he became a demon. Now to be lewd, but he probably got more vigorous in his pursuit of more powerful lovers, and knew how to slay the women’s hearts as he liked (you know, popular Heian pastime, everybody had lots of lovers, it was the norm, though political marriages and legitimate children were still important). That new sense of power probably went to his head. But, ultimately, he must had been limited in clout since he couldn’t take part in any daytime activities, thereby limiting his access to more powerful spheres of influence. His reputation from having grown up sickly must had followed him too. It’s anyone’s guess how much affection his parents had for him and how happy they were about his health at first, and if and when they might had noticed his changes. He was a full-fledged adult by the time he turned into a demon, so who knows how closely they even associated with him. They likely had healthier children who they devoted more care and attention to, and invested more family resources in while assuming Muzan would probably die young.

Who knows what the final straw was in Muzan leaving court? Was it frustration at not being able to walk in daylight that made him flee to the Kanto area in pursuit of the blue spider lily (from near where the doctor lived) long before Kanto became politically affluent? Or was it the rumors at court about how he didn’t age, and that he was eating people?

Of note, a lot of the early legends of demons in Japanese culture take place in the Heian period.

In his book “Japanese History of Demon Slayers,” retired Shizuoka University professor Tetsuo Owada capitalized on the success of Kimetsu no Yaiba to dive into a lot of ties between the series and what it may pay homage to throughout Japanese history and culture. While this was published last September and a handful of his theories have been disproven by the second fanbook published last February, and while I think a lot of his theories are stretching a little too far to make strong connections, it’s still deeply, deeply interesting stuff. He goes into some specific comparisons of demons, like Minamoto-no-Raiko and his posse of four big bad warriors taking on the Tsuchigumo (giant spider demon) terrorizing the mountains north of Kyoto harkening to the case of Rui’s family (and, ding ding ding, this was the primary focus of the official Kabuki/Kimetsu crossover last November), as well as takes little questions left in canon and dives into them a bit deeper. One such question is, why were wisteria lethal to demons? According to Prof. Owada’s research, there is no historical basis for this. Some of the talk online is that: 1. Wisteria are in fact poisonous, and consuming too much of them would cause vomiting and diarrhea (though I’ve also seen people make jam out of them because of the fragrance, so, like???) 2. Beans are thrown around at Setsubun to ward off demons (like so, Feat. Muzan and Kimetsu Beans), and wisteria are of the bean family 3. Wisteria like sunlight, so perhaps like Nichirin, they soak up some of the sun’s properties that are lethal to demons 4. In the language of flowers (Hanakotoba), wisteria symbolize kindness, welcomeness, refusing to leave someone’s side, being drunk with love, being straightforward and truthful, not losing the humanity in one’s heart, thereby containing a lot of meaning contrary to the conduct of demons Interesting, but some of its kind of a stretch. While still finding it a stretch to apply it to wisteria being poisonous to demons, Prof. Owada goes on to say that since ancient times, while the wisteria has some negative connotations of how it was sometimes written with characters meaning “doesn’t heal” (不治) and growing downward with smaller and smaller flowers like symbolize the slow downfall of a family line, it conversely also carries positive connotations of longevity and flourishing family due to the fact that its vines grow upward.

Now, you might picked up at some point that the Japanese word for wisteria is “fuji.” Not to be confused with Mt. Fuji (that’s written differently), it IS the same fuji as in “Fujiwara”: 藤.

Prof. Owada goes on to explore the association with the use of Wisteria crests in Kimetsu no Yaiba, especially on the houses of supporters of the Demon Slayer Corp. His recurring thesis is that the pandemic is partly responsible for Kimetsu no Yaiba’s popularity since demon legends have long since had origins in epidemics, and he supposes the Wisteria crest has a protective effect on the houses, similar to a talisman used in a lot of real life rituals for warding off illness and then often displays in or on the entries of houses to protect the family every year (I have one such item gifted to me, it stays by my doorway, along with a couple sticks of charcoal (but the culture of charcoal is a post for some other day)). The talisman is in reference to a god of Hindu/Chinese origins being treated with hospitality by the So clan, so although other families perished in disaster/disease, he promised to always protect the So clan descendants, so the talisman says “Descendants of the So Clan” so that any household may try to claim that divine protection. The gratitude-exchange of hospitality and protection and sure sounds familiar! Prof. Owada isn’t done yet. While the crest design used in Kimetsu no Yaiba isn’t an actual family crest in in real life, there are lots and lots and lots of family crests that use a wisteria design and have the character for “wisteria” in the name. Any time you hear “—tou”, like Satou, Saitou, or even Gotou, you can typically assume it’s 藤. It’s very common nowadays, but the first family to be granted the use of this name was the Fujiwara clan, when one of the pre-Heian and very powerful emperors granted their clan head this surname, which was a major honor, and it marked the start of the Fujiwara clan’s political dominance (there was already influence leading up to this, but meh, we like clear-cut stuff to simply centuries of history, don’t we?). Furthermore, although we often think of the Fujiwara clan for their influence at court, and we might think of the Minamoto clan for warrior heroes who fought demons, Prof. Owada concludes his argument of wisteria’s protective influence by pointed out a long list of Heian period Fujiwara warriors who also were the heroes of demon slaying legends, stating that their name has also long been tied with demon slayer culture. SO!!! Let me go on with my theory here. Muzan is from the same family line as Ubuyashiki. At some point (I assume after Muzan is long gone from Kyoto), the family is told while their children keep dying, and they accept their mission to bring an end to Kibutsuji Muzan and clear this curse on their family line. My thought is that their ancestor was a full blood sibling of Muzan, one whom was more invested in than sickly Muzan. While perhaps already an off-shoot of the Fujiwara Clan and thereby not entitled to the same sorts of inheritance, they probably maintained close ties with them. But, as it was already not direct by that time, the other Fujiwara clan branches were not affected by this curse. To further spare the clan the effects of this curse, this was probably when that sickly branch took the name Ubuyashiki. (And yes, I have things to say about this name and its possible mythological origins which I find a highly, highly interesting connection. Prof. Owada supposes it is tied with Izumo Taisha Grand Shrine and that is why there are nine pillars, but as much as I love Izumo Taisha and its giant pillars I base my argument in separate Shinto (but also Izumo!) mythology and accept that there are not always supposed to be nine Pillars specifically and Gotouge simply chose that number based on the number of strokes in the kanji for ‘Hashira’ (柱) BUT I DIGRESS). So, the Ubuyashiki Clan is it’s own thing, but is sort of like a cousin to the other Fujiwara branches and thereby continues to enjoy Fujiwara support throughout the Heian period, like some of the Fujiwara warriors going out there and slaying some of Muzan’s early demon experiments, and using their influence to bring in other warriors to the demon slaying cause (pet

theory: Genpei War warrior Kumagai Naozane was a member of the proto-Corp and using Kasugai-garasu was in practice since at least late Heian period). While the Ubuyashiki Clan probably already their own inherited land (and funds that came from it), throughout their history, their cousin clans might also have provided financial support to the Ubuyashiki Clan. But, they probably distanced themselves from the clan due to the curse and not wanting to be tainted. When you bring back in the wisteria associations this puts the contrary associations with a flourishing and dying family line in a new light. Furthermore, the “not healing” way of writing “fuji” also means a lot more in the context of Muzan’s, and later the Ubuyashiki clan’s illness.

[fukurodaze]

if i ever get lost

pairing/s: third year!haiba lev x gn!reader genre: fluff, romantic tension aka best and softest tension word count: 3.2k warnings: like, one curse word this was also requested by anon! “3rd year Lev w a reader who’s struggling to pass all their homeworks, projects and quizzes (bc they piled up their works ;;) while thinking of how should they study for college/uni entrance exams?”

special thanks to nat @natszoo​ and ellie @lcnelyinthesky​ for beta reading and helping me w this!! 

LISTEN TO: somebody loves you - jeremy zucker; glitter - benee

lowercase intended!

you throw your head back when you forget the term written on the flip side of the flash card haiba lev is holding. it’s a friday night, far past anyone’s bedtimes, but final exams for the first semester start on monday and you’re not sure where to start. haiba lev, being the person who has nothing better to do, agreed to come over and flip cards with random kanji, english, and biology terms on it.

lev might also be here because it’s an open secret that he’s liked you since first year, and you’ve never answered to his feelings, but you’re thinking friends for now - until you memorise all of this semester’s kanji, english vocabulary, and biology terms, that is.

“the phospholipid bilayer is made up of...”

lev gives you time to think, his wide eyes going between the answer on the card and your thinking face.

“shit, uh, the phospholipid bilayer is made up of two layers of phospholipids?”

“makes sense, but no.” lev answers, flipping the card to show you.

“the phospholipid bilayer is made up of a polar, hydrophilic area containing a phosphate group bound to glycerol, and a non-polar, lipophilic area containing fatty acids...” you read aloud, trying to memorise what’s currently going out your mouth, in one ear, and out again through another ear.

“you know, your flash cards are pretty comprehensive.”

you raise an eyebrow, “is that... a good thing?”

“i mean, yes and no,” he takes another sip of the tea your mom had insisted to bring to guests, “it’s harder to memorise, but it’s better for details. but-”

“but?” you watch as he takes another sip. 

“i think if you really don’t know where to go, just understand the basic concept of everything. for one - what is the function of the bilayer?”

“why do you sound smart?” you question, tilting your head jokingly.

“hey! i am smart! most times! with tests like these that have essay questions, you just gotta learn the basic concept of each term and connect them.” lev advices, recounting his former volleyball captain and nekoma high school alumni, kuroo tetsuro’s, words when lev himself was barely scraping past his first semester finals when he’d just transferred.

“easier said than done in two nights,” you slouch your head on your desk, “plus! it’s not just biology. or exams.”

if memorising all these terms in the span of two days sounds bad enough, you’re still crushed with the supplementary course work and projects due next week as well. 

you let out a deep groan. you’re so tired. it’s like biology information only comes up when you’re studying for english, biology only coming up for modern literature, and mathematics somehow being inserted into the little unknown kanji in modern literature. it’s all too much at once.

“it’s all too much at once, huh?” lev places his head on your desk, only a few inches away from your face. normally, you’d push him away, pull your head back up, or maybe even give him a light slap on a bad day, but today you welcome him. 

you nod, quiet. you haven’t been able to get a breather. it’s essay this, quiz that, lab report here, test there. your mind is blank.

now, lev sits back up on the extra chair from your dining room, “have you eaten dinner?”

“why are you asking... it’s like, midnight.”

“the question still stands.”

you sigh, “nope.”

lev hums. he takes a pen, then twirls it, like his fingers possessed polar magnets that somehow let the pens never fall from his hands. but it does eventually, and when it falls with a plastic click on your wooden desk, lev visibly takes a big breath and says, “do you want to get ramen?”

you exhale through your nose and smile. “are you asking me out, haiba?”

“is it inappropriate to ask you out now?”

damn this tall dork. come to think of it, he’s never actually asked you out despite the obvious ways he’d vouch for your attention in the past. you’re quite surprised, frankly, as he’s always been so loud in the ways he’s wanted to be with you but never really made it seem like anything was going to happen. 

but, hey, it’s late enough for you to put down your doubts about him away. after all, he’s been in your room for four hours, just helping you study. he wasn’t even studying himself - he just sat there, doing almost nothing. and for a guy like him, you wonder how he’s managed to keep there for so long.

“sure.”

lev’s eyes widen. “wait, really?”

“yeah,” you begin to set aside all your study materials, “we can go to a twenty-four hour place in the city, too.”

“alright! let me get you your coat!”

“my coat?” you raise an eyebrow when he hands you the coat you wear the most, feeling both flattered and slightly surprised that he recognises it straight away from your messy room. the boy comes to retreat his coat as well from one of the hangers in your room, and he even offers to get you your socks and boots.

“alright, alright, you don’t have to be that ready to go,” you joke. 

he makes sure there is no noise when you two walk out of your house, through the suburbs of tokyo and to the nearest train to the city. 

“aren’t you two a bit young to be here so late?” the shopkeeper, an old lady, mutters under her breath. you catch it through her croaky voice when you and lev enter the place together, but you pay no attention because all you care to focus on is the smell of broth and your empty stomach.

“for two, please,” lev says, undoubtedly hearing the woman’s remark, but answering with a smile. she smiles too, and so do you, and it makes you remember all the times he’s smiled and you’ve wanted to either punch him or hold his hand. 

today just happens to be one of those days where you want to hold his hand. you shake the thought off.

when you two are seated at the ramen bar, your head falls onto your palm, tilting back to face lev, his chin covered partly by his usual maroon scarf. you had whispered to him earlier on the train what you wanted to order, and lev quickly speaks to the waiter as your tired gaze rises from from the squiggly wooden patterns embedded in the polished wooden table to the boy that’s sitting right next to you. 

at first glance, you remember haiba lev’s face to be satisfying to look at. you remember when he had just transferred to your class in the first year, and you developed the annoying habit of looking forty-five degrees to the right every time you were bored in class, as you thought his face was much easier on the eyes than complex quadratic equations or japanese history. 

for a while you wondered if it was because he certainly looked different - not only was he practically a giant, but he had eurocentric features that stood out from the majority of the student body as well (it also didn’t help that he quite literally and figuratively filled any room he was in). though, maybe, after a while, when everyone got used to the sight of a new face, you kept your line of sight at a forty-five degree angle, just peering above his cheekbones. the same way you’re looking at him right now.

and really, the only word for it is handsome. dashing. good-looking. you’ve always known that, but now that you put it into words in your head, you notice the chiseled jaw, pointed nose and emerald green eyes feel a bit more-

“what you staring at?” his baritone voice cuts through your thoughts cleanly.

you don’t like where this conversation will go. “haiba, are you doing any college entrance exams?”

lev cocks his head to one side, thinking, before nodding, “i think i am. why?”

“how are you studying for them?”

lev clicks his tongue, and it brings you to surprise, “get your mind away from studying! we’re not here in the city at, like, one in the morning to talk about college entrance exams!”

you sigh, “okay, fine. but, still, answer my question?”

“i just do practice problems for twenty minutes every day,” lev shrugs, “okay, now, can we move away from studying?”

you hum lazily, watching as two bowls of ramen arrive at the bar. he had ordered what you told him you wanted to order, both bowls almost identical in smell, shape, size, and content. almost, because lev didn’t have any spring onions in his bowl.

“haiba,” you call, earning a quick call of your name in response, “do you not like spring onions?”

lev nods so obviously that he seems proud. his chopsticks mix the entire bowl together before picking up the half-boiled egg and eating the slice whole. when he swallows it down, he asks you, “you noticed.”

“i mean, yeah,” you reply, “why do you not like them? they’re like, essential.”

lev takes a slurp of his noodles, and then a spoonful of the broth, “i just never liked their texture - which is funny, since my entire family loves adding spring onions.”

now it’s your turn to slurp into your ramen, one bite turning into two, and two turning into the entire content of the bowl. lev seems to eat twice as fast, seemingly having a strategy to cooling down the hot noodles on his spoon while simultaneously folding a piece of pork charsiu in between the loops of each spoonful of noodles, making sure that the little wrap is bathed in a little bit of broth. you find yourself smiling at his act, almost like he has a system of his own when it came to eating ramen - well, he usually had a system of his own when doing just about anything.

the meal is quiet for the most part, with little mumbles of how your tea needs a refill and the ruffling sounds between sheets of tissue to wipe off the broth around your lips. it’s fulfilling, and the look on lev’s face says he’s happy too.

when you two make it out of the ramen bar, 1am feels the same as 9pm. somehow, you’re no longer the kind of sleepy you were when you were flipping through flashcards on your desk, and instead, you’re almost dreading to go home. you think it might also be the neon lights, but there’s some kind of electricity you’re not yet willing to let rest for the night.

luckily, lev doesn’t feel the need to rush. although his steps are big and his voice is loud, he takes his time when you two make the silent agreement to make the walk to the train station as long-winded as possible. his voice is lower, and softer, this time, and when he speaks to you about his friends from his old school, you convince yourself it’s the most interesting topic in the world - because it is. because it’s lev.

when he stops in his tracks, you stop too, watching him go into a small trinket shop you’ve always seen but never had the means to afford to go in. you reckon you might own something from this store, though.

“haiba, you like little trinkets?” your eyes scroll through the shelves of delicate and virtually useless items, eyes landing on a small lion cub made of clear resin with a small blob of gold floating in the middle of its clear body. you’re not usually drawn to any animal trinkets, as you’ve gotten used to decorative objects like bows or feathers or lace, but today you think about the lion cub. despite it looking severely overpriced, you take it in your hand anyway, not noticing lev’s figure coming right behind you.

“do you want that one?” you yelp in surprise when he says that, turning around to find yourself so close to him you could smell the dried raindrops on his padded coat.

“i’m pretty sure it’s overpriced. trinkets are usually overpriced anyways.”

“wait, let me check it,” you hand lev the trinket, “how much is your keychain?”

you furrow your eyebrows, “what?”

“you know, the keychain on the bag you bring to school.”

“oh,” you try to remember the time you had saved up for that keychain, “i think it was about three thousand yen? it’s overpriced. definitely.”

“well, this one’s only two thousand and five hundred. i’ll get it for you.”

“wha- lev!” you whine, “you’re going to make me feel bad- wait what’s wrong?” you see the boy freeze up in front of you, a big smile creeping onto his cheeky face.

he doesn’t reply for a bit, and you’re faced with raised cheekbones and a wide mouth. you try again, “was it something i did? or said?”

“you called me lev,” oh, you did. 

now his smile spreads from ear to ear, and it’s spreading to you. “you never call me lev.”

“huh, well.” you bite the inside of your mouth, “i guess now i do.”

it’s enough for you to let him spend over two thousand yen on a single trinket. you watch as he waits for the trinket to be wrapped neatly in pretty paper and put in a pink cardboard bag, its motif pretty enough to be its own product in the store. 

you stand by the doorframe of the store, mouth ready to open with the words ‘i’ll pay you back’. but it seems like lev had heard you from the future, and before you could do anything, he tells you, “don’t pay me back. this is my gift to you.”

“for exams?”

he grins. “you know, lev means lion in russian.”

the bell of the store rings as you two make your way out, this time really going back to the station. you answer with a ‘really?’ at his fun fact but you keep it to yourself that you’ve known ever since he first transferred and everyone had asked him about it. 

“yeah, and the thing’s a lion cub, so, it’s like you have me all the time!” 

you giggle, walking up the steps to the train platform. “you’re really something, lev.”

lev stretches his arms out, with long limbs you swear ghost your shoulder. you get that feeling again, in your hands, where you just can’t seem to understand why you want to take his hand in yours so bad, so you ask the boy if you can hold onto the bag with your trinket. lev passes it to you, and you hate how you would’ve liked for your thumb to graze over his thumb for longer. you hate it even more when he motions you onto the train, and in a blur, you take his arm, leading him to corner seats on the train. you feel your face heat up. 

ah, so that’s how it is.

now you’re conflicted. not that lev had ever made you feel uncomfortable - no, never - but you had never known how to return his obvious feelings. he would act on them, as always, and one day, as you fell asleep one day after final semester exams in the second year, leaning back into the plastic seat of a suburban tokyo metro rail (which lev thought was very dangerous), lev had muttered in the quietest and most subtle manner, ‘what do i do with my feelings?’

then, in a haze, with eyes barely open, you had moved your head from your seat to his shoulder, painting his cheeks red - dumbstruck. he thought you forgot about it the next morning, and you barely remember, so nothing happened afterwards. yet, when you think of him, you think of hues of orange peeling the sky into purple; of freshly washed school uniforms; of heads leaning on shoulders and fingers intertwined. you don’t know how to answer him.

with lev, there is chatter and laughter and blunt remarks that almost get him slapped in the face. still, there is a box, bigger than the bag your trinket is in, that contains words that you don’t think you or lev have ever said in pure daylight and wake. 

“hey, lev?”

you want to open that box.

“yeah?”

but you don’t know how to do it yet.

“the phospholipid bilayer is made up of a polar, hydrophilic area containing a phosphate group bound to glycerol, and a non-polar, lipophilic area containing fatty acids.”

lev exclaims a series of ‘oooh!’s in delight. 

“was that correct?”

“um,” lev gulps, “i think so? i mean- i think so.”

but you will open it, sooner or later, and it rings in your head when you step off the train and walk into the neighbourhood. right now, nothing is different - the air is not heavier, his eyes do not sparkle like love interests do in the movies, and you do not look through a rose-coloured lens. monday is finals, and the weekend is studying. you tell yourself this.

lev stops at your doorstep, and you almost feel a sear in your chest at the thought of him leaving for the night. 

“so, good luck with next week, y/n.”

you nod, trinket bag in your hands, “you too, lev.”

you find that your arms are opening up, a small pout on your face as lev comes to wrap his arms around you, coats shuffling against each other as you hold each other at three in the morning. 

when you pull away from the hug, you start to ramble a bit, scrambling for new topics to bring up in hopes of just a few more seconds with him - that, and trying to stop yourself from your newfound want to cup this boy’s face in your hands and kiss him square on the lips. you wonder if he would be good at kissing, and you wonder how much you’ll regret having these thoughts tomorrow. 

but even conversation dies when you know it’s getting too cold, so you bid your sweet goodbyes and promise him not to overwork; he reminds you that it’s better to do short but frequent study sessions than fewer and highly intensive ones. you nod, your boots heavy on your doorstep, the hushed sound of keys in doors slowly becoming the only sound you hear as you assume lev’s left already.

until he calls your name.

your head spins fast towards the boy, watching as he makes long strides to stand at your doorway once again, scarf prodding the tip of his nose, so close to your face. he’s red.

“during exams, or tomorrow, or studying for entrance exams- if you ever get lost-” he pants, and unties his scarf from his neck.

“you’ll find me, okay?” the scarf comfortably hangs around your neck now, covering your mouth. he pats your head twice. it’s warm - literally. 

you barely get the chance to say anything before he darts out of your house with a quick goodbye. you’re left confused, flustered, and excited at once, and this time, you think you might have the words as to why. 

you like to imagine you taste sweetness, see eyes that sparkle, and feel butterflies in your stomach. 

“it might not be so bad,” you whisper, looking down at the pretty little bag containing one unnecessarily expensive item lev had bought you.

right; you have feelings for him too. 

then you make up your mind: you’ll tell him next friday. and if your finals stand between tonight and next friday, then, all the more motivation to get through them, right?

you make sure to set an alarm for seven in the morning, kanji textbooks lined up for tomorrow. 

[ace-oreos]

For the prompt ask if you’re still doing it- alpha gets back from being tortured by ventress, Fordo’s there to pick up the pieces, both mentally and physically

I have to admit, I was excited to do this as soon as I read it - putting Alpha in a more uncertain situation like that and seeing how it develops is really fun. It’s also very challenging, which is partly why it’s so fun. @shadow-hyder was a huge help when I was stuck halfway through trying to navigate Alpha in an emotional situation we rarely see him in. 

Prompts like this that make me explore new aspects of Alpha’s character are my favorite.  😁 So many thanks to you, anon! 

I feel like I should mention that I was listening to Nonstop from Hamilton... well, nonstop right around the halfway point. So there may be a few vague references in there. XP 

tw: mentions of blood (nothing graphic) 

The barracks block is empty and silent, and Alpha-17 can only be grateful. He’s not ready to face anyone else. 

Luckily, Fordo isn’t due back from the Mid Rim for a few weeks yet - Alpha made a point of checking not long after he was discharged from the medbay. 

(It still isn’t enough time.)

(The most he can hope for is that he’ll be able to pull himself together long enough to ward off any concern.)

He forces himself to shower, rinses the last of the caked blood from his skin. The water would almost be soothing if it didn’t make the wounds littering his skin sting and burn. Proper medical treatment wouldn’t go amiss, but the idea of admitting to his vulnerability makes his stomach twist and his throat tight. 

It’s nothing I can’t handle by myself, he decides, shoving away the doubt that’s already wormed its way into his thoughts.

It’s nothing he can’t handle when he wakes from a fiftful doze some hours later, damp with sweat and breath coming short. It’s nothing he can’t handle when scars that are just beginning to form break open and bleed anew when he pushes a little too hard during a solo training session. It’s nothing he can’t handle when he can’t bring himself to let his guard down long enough to sleep and instead paces the halls at all hours of the night. 

At first, the quiet is a relief - time to process his thoughts he wouldn’t be afforded otherwise. But it becomes stifling over time, the silence that both presses in and somehow leaves too much room for him to think at the same time. The stark walls don’t offer shelter so much a reflection he’s not yet willing to see.

He almost misses Fordo, some days. Other days he can only be thankful that Fordo isn’t here, because his brother is the only one who would see that he’s falling apart at the seams.

_______________________

Training becomes an escape, of sorts, and Alpha throws himself into it for hours on end. He can almost convince himself that nothing has changed if it weren’t for the twinge and pull of half-healed wounds that leave thin trails of blood on his skin when he refuses to let up. 

(It wasn’t enough last time.)

He suspects Fordo wouldn’t approve, but it’s for the best. 

(He won’t make that mistake again.)

(He isn’t any less of a soldier than he was before, and sometimes he even recognizes as much, but then he remembers feeling utterly powerless and he can’t bring himself to stop.)

Alpha can’t shake the feeling that he’s running out of time somehow, so he attacks it the only way he knows how: relentless, single-minded, determined to find the vulnerability at its source and eliminate it. 

He doesn’t know what he’s trying to prove, but he does know - all too well - it’ll keep eating away at him until he does something about it.

_______________________________

It doesn’t take long for Alpha to find comfort in his voluntary solitude. Training alone after hours lets him breathe again. It’s… calming, almost; nothing like the uneasy restlessness that overtakes him when he slows down a breath too long.

(You don’t know when to stop, Fordo warned him time and again - but he’ll have to eventually, and he doesn’t know what will happen when he does.) 

He’s putting himself back together for the first time in his life, and he thinks it might just work if he were left to his own devices. 

But Fordo, being the sort who would give his life for a brother without a second thought, never met a challenge he didn’t like to puzzle out so he could piece it together again his way. It’s only a matter of time before he adds himself to the equation, so Alpha isn’t as surprised as he should be when Fordo arrives unannounced just before reveille. 

“I thought you were slugging it out with the CIS in the Mid Rim,” Alpha says slowly, not bothering to hide his bemusement.

Fordo shrugs. It’s not like him to evade the unspoken question, but there’s something his face Alpha can’t quite read. “We took their forward operating base a few days ago. My squad can manage without me.” 

“Fordo…”

“We’re winding down anyways,” Fordo dismisses. “This wasn’t much of a haul as far as those things go.”

Never one to dance around an issue, Alpha asks pointedly, “So what are you doing here?” 

Fordo’s silence is enough of an answer. The carefully neutral expression is gone, and Alpha doesn’t like the look playing across his brother’s face now. 

“You shouldn’t - ”

“- have bothered?” Fordo interrupts. “Don’t give me that osik.”

“Your men need you.”

“And my brother doesn’t?”

“I thought you could figure it out for yourself,” Alpha returns.

“I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t,” Fordo counters. 

Alpha closes his eyes against the rush of anger that overtakes him. He wouldn’t be half as furious if he didn’t know there was gratitude somewhere beneath it. I don’t need your help. He doesn’t need Fordo’s help, except - 

Except he does, and it terrifies him to admit it, and there’s no chance Fordo will be fooled by any sort of front he puts on - 

“Udesii, ner vod.” Fordo’s hands are raised, placating. “I know it’s not what you want, but let me worry about you just this once.”

“Because I could jeopardize the mission?” Alpha grinds out.

Something he’s tempted to mistake for hurt flashes across Fordo’s face. “Because I care.” 

He doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he doesn’t even try.

___________________________

It’s a mark of how remarkably Fordo knows him that he isn’t put off when Alpha spurns his attempts to help. He navigates Alpha’s temper with steady patience Alpha has never seen before and responds with diplomacy to rival Kenobi’s. If he’s frustrated, he hides it well. 

A few days and Alpha doesn’t bother taking out his residual anger on his brother. It’s not really directed at him, anyways - he just happens to be a convenient target for the deep-seated disquiet that’s been threatening to overwhelm Alpha for weeks now. 

Alpha doesn’t resist when Fordo drags him to the mess hall, more for his brother’s peace of mind than his own. It’s still too much of a crowd for his taste, but letting Fordo have his way spares him a great deal of aggravation. 

Fordo doesn’t press him for conversation, which suits Alpha fine. Bad enough that there’s been plenty of time for rumors and speculation to circulate the ranks; the last thing he wants is to recount everything that happened after Jabiim. Some days Fordo relays his squad’s latest doings, and Alpha can’t help but smile despite himself. 

It’s early enough that the mess hall is nearly empty aside from a handful of pilots just returned from a simulation. Alpha is forced to admit, however grudgingly, that Fordo might’ve been on to something, insisting that they come so early. 

“You should eat,” Fordo adds halfway through what’s shaping up to be a long-winded account of a recent misadventure on the other side of the galaxy. 

Alpha shrugs noncommittally in response. “‘M not that hungry.”

Fordo looks skeptical. “How long are you going to keep this up?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Alpha mutters, studying the table so he doesn’t have to meet his brother’s eyes. 

“You’re impossible,” Fordo says under his breath with an eye roll to match. He shoves his own plate towards Alpha. “Go on.”

Alpha swallows a few mouthfuls without complaint. As is his standard now, it’s for Fordo’s sake more than his own. No doubt Fordo knows exactly what he’s doing, but his brother doesn’t question it. 

__________________________

Fordo joins him to train now. He follows Alpha’s lead and goes about it in grim silence, but there’s something companionable about it nonetheless. 

Alpha soon takes to challenging Fordo over the training droids. An organic opponent is more complex; another Alpha ARC means it’ll be a good fight. Fordo doesn’t hold back by any means, but he’s mindful that Alpha isn’t quite back to top form yet. 

It would be a lot easier if he didn’t feel every pull and strain when he and Fordo are locked body-to-body or when he’s slammed to the floor because he couldn’t dodge his brother’s attack in time. Afterwards he’s careful to hide the new scars that have opened again, dressing the wounds when Fordo is out of sight. 

He’s cursing at a length of bandages that he can’t quite secure one-handed when the door slides open. Bracing himself for the lecture, Alpha lifts his chin. 

Fordo, to his credit, takes it in stride. “Let me give you a hand with that.”

Alpha fights the urge to pull away when Fordo touches his arm. He’s careful, gentle, but Alpha’s skin burns with the contact. Thankfully, Fordo knows what he’s doing and doesn’t take longer than he needs to; Alpha’s hands are shaking by the time his brother sits back.

“It’s okay, ner vod,” Fordo says softly. 

It isn’t yet, but Fordo is here with him, and Fordo is hurting with him too. Alpha can’t express it, but he nods anyways, and he sees in his brother’s eyes that he understands.

__________________________

Fordo is unusually quiet, even for 0500 and barely six hours of sleep. Alpha still prefers to conduct their meals in near silence, but he’s become accustomed to Fordo’s idle chatter. Their corner of the mess feels odd without it.

 Just as he’s readying himself to speak, Fordo draws a deep breath and says, “I got new op orders last night.”

“It was bound to happen,” Alpha answers like it doesn’t cut far deeper than he expected.

“Given the chance I would’ve sent this one on,” Fordo continues slowly, “but I’ve got a squad waiting for me.”

And we don’t have forever. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Alpha assures. “I get it.” 

A look of relief crosses his brother’s face like he had something to feel guilty about in the first place. “Vor entye, ner vod.”

Alpha allows himself a smile. “Someone has to keep your di’kute in line.”

Fordo laughs at that. “You’re telling me.” Then his face becomes pensive. “What about you?”

“I’m lucky to have made it this far without Kenobi asking when I’ve got time to help him win over another unsuspecting Senator. I’m sure I’ll have a new assignment soon enough.”

Fordo turns his fork over in his fingers. “We could always use another soldier.”

It’s not an offer he extends lightly, Alpha knows. He’s tempted to take him up on it, but…

“I appreciate it. Really, I do.” He hesitates as he mulls over how to phrase it. “But I have things sorted out now. And…”

Fordo smiles. There’s an edge of regret to it, but it’s genuine. “Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

“I will,” Alpha promises.

Fordo’s gone by the next morning. They don’t waste time on goodbyes; neither of them put much stock by promises that can’t be kept. 

After so many days of his brother’s quiet company, his quarters are strangely empty. The silence isn’t the refuge it was, but it’s not hostile, either, like it’s still holding on to some part of his brother’s presence. It’s still comforting in its own right, but not in the way he’d imagined.

It’ll be back to the front soon enough. He can only guess what the war will throw at him next, but if he’s lucky, it won’t be long before he sees Fordo again. He hasn’t properly thanked his brother yet, and he’s curious to see if his brother’s squad lives up to their reputation. It’ll certainly be interesting, Alpha thinks. 

Vode an.

[2018shawn]

Ruin the Friendship

OMG to the anon that requested this I am SO sorry it took me this long and it’s probably not up to expectation I've just been struggling to write djbsndfa HOWEVER, this was my interpretation of the song and I hope you enjoy. I did intend for it to be more sexy but it turned out more goof so soz about tht OH and I also wrote this with a OC I dunno why it just happened but there u go 

Warnings: suggestions of smut, swearing, MY WRITING, alcohol consumption etc etc 

Remy’s phone balanced against a stack of books, just enough so that she was in view of the front facing camera, not really giving too much attention to how she looked. Her screen was dominated by a mop of brown curls and just, and I mean - just - underneath them, she could make out the facial structure of her closest friend, neighbour and music mogul, known to the world as Shawn Mendes. To her, he was known as annoying neighbour that A) played guitar ridiculously late at night, especially in the room that backed onto her bedroom. B) never had milk and would knock at stupid o’clock in the morning to get some because he was fuelled by coffee and fancy tea’s and C) wasn’t there half the time, meaning she had 2 lots of post to check for every morning. He was in the midst of rambling and from what she could gather, he was throwing a party for absolutely no particular reason other than the weather was nice and doesn’t that make you wanna have a beer?

“No, Shawn. I don’t really drink beer, so I can’t say it does” She replied, rolling her eyes behind her quirky, but necessary, reading glasses as her fingers swiftly tapped away at her keyboard, trying to get down as many words as she could. 

“Ok... vodka? gin?...” he started, and she gave me him a raised eyebrow kinda look as she finally turned her attention to him. “Tequilaaaaa?” He dragged out, putting on a face that the angels could have sculpted themselves.

“Jesus, no. Absolutely not.” The last time Shawn made her do a tequila shot, he demanded that she did it from his I want to run my tongue over stomach, to which she was absolutely mortified and knew that there was no chance in hell she could keep her cool, or stop her lips from going further south, if she was to lick or suck anywhere near that region. He finally let her settle for shotting it from the glass like a normal human being and that was the last she remembered of the night, “I’ll have water, I got a lot of work to do tomorrow”.

He plumped out his bottom lip at her response, but quickly raised a point. “So, that means you’re coming?” He was moving about in the screen, and she guessed he was just pacing around his apartment because he was the most restless person she’d ever met. She’d never known him to be home longer than 1 week at a time, so it was a rarity that he was currently on day 3 and quite possibly throwing a party out of boredom, not good will. 

“Not necessarily... but, I might drop in” She replied, closing the lid down on her laptop with a sigh as her brain came to a halt with words, partly because of the Canadian boy the other side of her FaceTime call, “If I have to”. 

He smiled and nodded, indicating that she did, in fact, have to. “You do! You’re always working, have a night off, Rems” She groaned at not only his nickname for her, but when she heard a knock at her door, assuming it would be her delivery. Pushing herself up from her sofa and slumping over to the door, she knew the angle on her screen wasn’t the prettiest, like when you accidentally open front camera and get the shock of your life, but he’d seen her in much worse states than this. 

“I just... don’t know anyone” She said, swinging the door open, her eyes looking back at the screen to gauge Shawn’s reaction. To her dismay, just because of the pleasure of getting to see his face, he’d paused the FaceTime, assumingly scrolling away on other apps where faces were much more interesting that what she thought hers was. 

“You know me” His voice snapped her out or her gaze, not just from her phone, but from the tall figure stood in her doorway. It wasn’t obscure that he was stood at her door, it was just obscure that he was on FaceTime at the same time. “What you gonna wear?” 

He pushed past her, walking himself into the apartment which he knew all too well, not just because his was symmetrical, but because he’d been round here more times than he'd had hot dinners. It wasn’t all good reasoning - he’d turned up numerous times looking like he was on the verge of tears, which sometimes he burst into as soon as she shut the door behind him, he’d turned up fucked out of his face, because he couldn’t work his own key in the door and demanded he stay on her couch because his apartment felt lonely, hell, he’d even turned up heartbroken because the same damned girl kept screwing him over and he couldn't quite establish his self worth. 

It killed her, for him not to see how incredibly special he was. She’d always had a small crush on him, sure. But Remy just learnt to deal with it because, sure, dating her was definitely not on the top of his to do list.

She was left stood, her hand still clasped around the door as he waltzed into her bedroom, muttering nothing in particular other than how she looked good in that red, flowery thing and she should definitely wear that. “Fucking dumbass” She muttered to herself, sighing as she finally closed the door, letting it shut with a loud click before following the - did I mention? - annoying neighbour that apparently would not take no for an answer.

“Turn off your FaceTime, I can hear you, fucking dumbass” 

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

She sipped, through her straw, at was definitely not water and she knew she shouldn’t have trusted him when he asked what she wanted to drink. She convinced herself it would be rude not to drink it - and maybe a couple more, now she had the taste for it. Her friend, Lily, was the one that put the icing on the cake, turning up at her house - what was with people just randomly turning up? - all dolled up ready for the night. She knew her friend only wanted to go because Connor had more than likely been in touch, after several previous one night stands/‘meetings’ and Lily was not the kind of girl that passed up the opportunity to get laid - even though she had Connor wrapped around her little finger. 

Lily had left her to go pee, but Remy knew she most definitely would get lost (in Connor’s lap) on the way back, which left her with no choice but to fend for herself. She’d seen Shawn on arrival, but knew he was making a round of doing the pleasantries and she couldn't be stuck to his hip all night, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want to be. As if he’d sensed her needs, her annoying neighbour came prancing over with the grin of a Cheshire Cat and, of course, a red cup contained in one hand. 

He looked good - really fucking good - she thought to herself as she watched him, buttons undone one extra than the normal person, showing the chest hair he always claimed to be manly. His trousers were tight around his peachy rear, which is somewhere she’d always wanted to get her hands onto but, funnily enough, never found the right moment to do that as a friend and neighbour. Like hey, I brought your post up... by the way let me touch your butt or hey, I saw you’re back in town, can I come round... and touch your butt. 

Sure he looked good, but his body; his body even looked good. It looked healthy. Happy. Refreshed. Which is something it often wasn’t and she would preach to him numerous times about how you only get one and you need to look after it. Turns out he may have actually listened to her for once and taken her advice.

Remy had thought numerous times about going there with Shawn - there being her underneath him, but she also knew he could get any girl he wanted with the click of his fingers, because that’s just the kind of guy he was. She, was unaware that he thought she’d never want him - he knew she loved home comforts and stability and someone to be there. He completely wasn’t the right guy to be able to offer that, and sure, bedding her had crossed his mind because he wasn’t completely oblivious to all the little gazes he’d caught her in as he walked around his - or her - apartment in nothing but a pair of Calvin Klein’s. But he couldn’t bare to do it to her - fuck her and leave - no matter how many times she bit her perfectly plump lip when he was chatting away to her about the dumb TV show they’d started watching. 

“How’s your water?” He smirked, his eyes looking a little drunk as he mirrored her posture, leaning back against the kitchen counter with arms crossed, only he stood much taller. He turned to face her, eyes clicking with hers and giving her the same puppy dog eyes he always did.

“Great, actually, thank you” she smiled, being the one to break the eye contact before taking another large sip of her drink. His view didn’t alter as he kept eyes on her, beyond her knowledge, to take in every inch of what he thought to be perfect features. Shawn had travelled all around the world, but never met anyone that quite compared to Remy. He had never met anyone who was so determined to succeed, even through having as many set backs as her. He had never met anyone who could give so much love, despite being the one needing love herself. And what he thought about the most, was that he’d never met anyone who had a body like hers - one that could make him feel like jelly. “They’re really into each other aren’t they?”

She interrupted his train of admiring thoughts, making him stutter and blush when she turned back to face him, catching him staring at her plump lips. She nodded her head towards Lily and Connor, who were talking to other people but might as well have been auditioning for a role in love actually, because they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. “Yeah, I actually didn’t know it was possible for him to have feelings” he laughed and she nodded, rolling her eyes and capturing her bottom lip in between her teeth. He lulled at the material of his unbuttoned shirt in an attempt to get some ventilation. He felt hot, and it wasn’t the alcohol.

“Well, I stupidly offered her a place to crash so I guess that means he’ll be joining too” She took the straw that was swivelling around in her drink, frustrated as she tried to catch it in her mouth every time she wanted a sip, and threw it behind her onto the counter. With one large gulp, the rest of her drink was gone and they both knew she was starting to get the confidence she so dearly deserved.

“I have a spare bed, if you know...” he started, not entirely sure where he was going with the whole invitation, “get bored of the noise”

ouch. friend zoned. She thought to herself, although grateful for the offer. 

“I’m gonna whoop your ass at twister,” was the only thing she could reply, swiftly changing subject and nudging her head towards the surprisingly - so far - relatively PG game of twister happening in his lounge.

ouch. rejected. He though to himself, although slightly embarrassed at his childlike offer. 

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

Remy balanced on the balcony railing, her hair pushed to one side of her neck, exposing her shoulder and collar bone, just a measly spaghetti strap covering any skin there. She came outside for one of two reason. One being the fact she felt herself getting drunk, which is something she intended not to do. Two being that Shawn looked more hot the drunker she got and that was not the kind of things that she wanted filling her mind whilst she had the new found tipsy confidence. 

“Hey, there you are” Shawn slid the balcony door closed behind him, placing his beer bottle on the little table, surrounded by two chairs, that covered almost half of the tiny balcony. “I thought you’d back door boogied.”

She snorted out a laugh, shaking her head at his ridiculous methodology. “No, but that would be the way to go, because you’d no doubt nag me to stay, if I told you I was leaving.” 

He leant his back against the railing, turning his head to the right to get full view of her, as she admired the busy Toronto city. “Can you blame me?” She pursed her lips, trying to keep her eyes on the bright city lights. “What would I have to do, out of interest?”

She finally turned to look at him, his signature smile covering his features and that was more than enough to ever make her stay. “Hmm... maybe play me my favourite song.” He simply nodded, taking mental note. 

They stayed silent for a few minutes, nothing but the sound of busy streets and the music inside filing the void. They awkwardly clicked eye contact a couple of times, her cheeks blushing a deep shade of red each time which he found incredibly cute, but also somehow sexy. “You should get back, it’s your party you loser.” 

“I like your company,” he smiled genuinely, playfully nudging her shoulder with his own. He wanted nothing more, in this moment, than to grab her, hold her close and admire the beauty of the city with her. Admire her beauty. 

She shoved her empty red cup in his hand, suddenly feeling thirsty, although she was sure it wasn’t the type of thirst that could be satisfied with another drink. But, another drink would have to make do. “Go fill up my dink, and I shall grace you with my presence shortly.”

He wasn’t sure where the assertiveness came from, but he thought it almost turned him on. “One Tequlia, coming right up” 

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

The dull party music was nothing but a background noise now everyone had vacated, leaving Remy, Shawn, Lily and Connor as the last men standing. Shawn couldn’t help but jibe at Remy for being one of the final few, making it through the entire party and finishing with a rare buzz from the alcohol. “Me and Con are gonna get going, if that’s okay?” Lily spoke, filling the last space in the dishwasher with any glass she could. 

“Sure, thanks for your help, guys” Shawn said, balancing a stack of red plastic cups in his right hand that slightly resembled the leaning tower of Pisa, shaking Connor’s hand with his left.

“Okay well, here’s my key, I'll help Shawn finish up and I'll be back” Remy confirmed, walking over to her bag and retrieving her key from inside, handing it over to the eager blonde. She began speaking in a much quieter tone, even though Shawn and Connor were engaging in their own conversation and would absolutely have no interest in there's, “I might stay in Shawn’s spare room, give you guys... space” you laughed. Lily was more than thankful to have a best friend like you. 

“Girl, stay in his damn bed” She replied, earning a roll of the eyes from Remy at the typical Lily answer.

“I wouldn’t mind if she did” Shawn spoke, Remy suddenly freezing and heart beating faster than she ever knew it could. The remark was pushed aside as everyone bid their final farewells, leaving Shawn and Remy alone in his apartment with nothing but a huge mess and Spotify playlist playing in the background. “You look really pretty tonight”, he added, as she finished rounding up the last few beer bottles and throwing them in his bottle bin. 

“I... uh... thanks. You too” She smiled, almost instantly mentally slapping her forehead with the palm of her hand. Pretty? You look pretty too? She thought to herself. “I mean, you look good. Not pretty, but good”

“You don’t think I’m pretty?” He gasped, his hand pressing against his chest as he acted shocked. He leant his back against the wall, his legs straining against the fabric of his jeans, with one leg bent and supported against the structure. She couldn’t help but think about climbing on top of his thick limbs, straddling him and pinning him down. She replied a small oh har-har and he stood up, walking over to her, despite her pretending to be busy with the same bottles she’d been moving around for the past 5 minutes. “Because I think you're very, very pretty. Beautiful, actually” She felt his breath against the back of her hair, just above her ear as she remained facing the countertop. She was sure that she’d never felt a flush of heat like the one she was experiencing. His long arms captured her in his personal space, the scent of her sweet perfume filling the little space between them.

Shawn noticed how she’d stopped moving and he wasn't sure if he was pushing the boundaries too much. He would, of course, stop if she was to show him any signs of feeling uncomfortable, but the way her body finally relaxed against his told him the opposite. His fingers nervously danced over her waist, and he failed to notice the trail of goose pimples that covered her bare arms. It felt like a lifetime, waiting for her to react or say something. 

Both their hearts, unbeknown to each other, were almost beating out of their chests. “Shawn...” Was all she could mumble, managing somehow to turn around, in the tiny amount of space she had, to face him. Well, to face his chest. His hands remained on her waist, his mind subconsciously telling him to hold on because she could try and run at any given moment. She looked up at him, through fluttering lashes, trying to work out what he was thinking, but failing miserably. 

“Do you want me to move away?” He asked, noticing how their bodies were closer than they ever had been. Truth be told, she didn’t know, but something in her possessed her to shake her head, much to Shawn’s relief. So he sighed happily, reaching up his hand and brushing some stray hairs away from her face, his hand lingering there once he’d done. She reached up and covered his larger hand with hers, looking into his eyes with what he could only describe as love. Her eyes flickered between his eyes and his lips, giving him the signal he’d been waiting for. 

Dipping his neck down, their lips collided with messy passion as his hand grasped the back of her neck, her hand finally parting from his to tug at the material of his shirt. She groaned at his neediness, moving into him, her chest pressing against his front. Neither of them thought about coming up for air, only needing each other to survive in this very moment. 

Remy was the first one to detach, her cheeks covering deep red blush, yet again. “We... shouldn't.” She stated, her hands still balling up the fabric of his shirt. 

“I’m not gonna force you to do anything you don’t want to do, but fuck, Rems.” He breathed heavily, stroking his thumb over her flushed cheeks. “You have no idea how long I've wanted to.” It shocked her that he sounded like he meant it, because there wasn’t many men out there who were as honest as he. All she could find herself doing was taking in whatever words he spoke, her mind on over drive and then some. “And not like, just tonight. I’ve wanted you every day, in every city, every album, every single. And what’s more ironic is that your favourite song you said you’d like me to play for you... is about you and...”

She stopped him with another kiss, her tip toes aiding her in reaching up to his taller height. She knew the confidence had come from the uncountable amount of vodka-lemonades she’d practically inhaled, but her actions were sincere. Shawn approved of both the confidence and the actions. She spoke into his mouth as they loved on each other, “This... could...” He flicked his tongue against hers, her words being replaced with a string of moans. His hands pulled at the hair on the back of her head, pulling her neck upwards as their lips disconnected, giving him more access to the skin on her neck. His lips trailed wet kisses down, nipping at the delicate skin. “Ruin our friendship,” she finally finished and although her words were spoken genuine concern, the only thing she was physically concerned about was getting enough of a handful of his hair to toy with. 

Her breathing was deep as Shawn pulled away, face still hovering close to hers. “I mean it though, Remy. I’m all in, if you are” She knew it was a big risk, ruining her friendship; her anxiety wouldn’t let her stay living next to Shawn if anything was to go wrong, meaning she’d have to go through the pain of packing up and moving apartments, to another country, in another world, because, being without Shawn was what it felt like to be alone. 

If the friendship was ruined, it was already ruined because normal friends don’t casually do this in their kitchens. If she had chance to feel his love, she deserved to, as did he. Her mind raced with thoughts of these, a small laugh escaping her lips at how she’d found herself in this completely ridiculous situation, as she spoke words she never thought she'd be saying to the pretty Canadian boy staring into her soul, “Pick me the fuck up.”

[bunivys]

Ooh maybe “I’m leaving.” “Of course you are, that’s all you know how to do.” ?

Hey anon, thanks for sending this one in. I gotta admit, it’s pretty angsty so I’m posting a fluffy one right after this one. Enjoy! ❤️

The red wallpapered hallways of the Academy seemed to be eating Sabrina the further she delved into them, the clicking of her shoes echoing almost disjointedly behind her, as though the sound didn’t quite line up to her footsteps. The old magic wound deep around the bones of the school sometimes felt maddening, like entering a kaleidoscope, if she went too long without setting foot in the building.

And she had gone the entirety of the summer without so much as thinking of the Academy, her courses lying finished, books tossed to the side as though forgotten. She was having a blast with her mortal friends, spending nights at the theater then gathering around a booth in Dr. Cerberus’ to discuss, heading out for weekend trips to Sweetwater and swimming until her legs hurt, ignoring her aunt Zelda every time she tried to remind Sabrina she had duties at the school.

Zelda had finally had enough of her constant skipping out. Any time any sort of ritual came up at the Academy, any sort of celebration, Sabrina found some way out of it. Now, with the Summer Solstice on its way, Zelda had threatened to hex her if she didn’t show up, and Sabrina was on her way to her office in hopes of sorting it all out, maybe hoping her aunt would take pity on her and leave her to enjoy her mortal years in peace until she simply had to return.

As she was coming up on the doors to the High Priestess’ office, a figure was leaving.

“Nicholas,” Sabrina said before she could stop herself, surprise ringing in her voice at the sight of him. She hadn’t seen him in months, and she would by lying if she said it hadn’t been on purpose. 

He looked a little different, a bit tidier than she remembered, his hair trimmed back so the curls were no longer unruly, swept back in that effortless style she’d remembered him favoring. His clothes were dark, pressed, worn with intent instead of pulled on as a last-minute thought. Her stomach dropped when her gaze settled on the bag swung over his shoulder, the jacket draped over his arm, the air around him that oddly felt temporary. Like he had already disappeared.

His eyes, still as dark as she recalled, snapped up to meet hers. 

“Sabrina.”

They stared at each other for a moment, Nick not tearing his eyes from her, a somber expression on his face, his lips parted as though ready to say something. Why did it seem like he was trying to commit her to memory? 

“What are you doing?”

It took Nick a second to say anything, as if seeing her had just forced him to reset, had thrown him off balance. Finally, he said, “I’m leaving.” 

Something hot welled up in Sabrina. Something sharp, tearing through her on the way up. She didn’t have to question him any further to know that he meant the Academy, meant Greendale, maybe even meant the country. She could tell as much from the look on Nick’s face that he didn’t intend to come back, either, and that running into her wasn’t something he’d planned for. Which meant that he’d wanted to disappear without her ever knowing.

“Of course you are,” she snapped, unable to stop herself, “that’s all you know how to do, isn’t it, Nick?”

Nick flinched from her tone, but his features hardened quickly after that, dark brows furrowing. “What is that supposed to mean, Sabrina? If I remember correctly, I haven’t seen you around here in months.”

“That’s different and you know it,” she shot back, fists clenching at her sides. Surely, he knew why she was staying away. He had sent her off, and she had kept away because the Academy was his home, he’d said so himself, once. 

“Yeah? Enlighten me, then,” Nick said. “You washed yourself of everything, maybe some of us want to do the same.”

“I’m not here partly because you got sick of looking at me. That’s what you said, isn’t it? I figured I’d do you a favor and not show my face around here then,” she snapped, her tone meant to pierce, pulling from the argument they’d had in the woods when Nick shouted at her that all he saw when he looked at her was her father. “You’re leaving because you refuse to face anything.”

Nick’s jaw tensed.

“You left for Hell, Nick, you offered yourself up because you wanted to make it up to me, instead of facing me and apologizing for lying to me for months so that we could move past it—”

“You really think your father would have just let us talk it out after he crowned you his child bride? Really, Sabrina? I did that for you,” Nick snapped. “So that you wouldn’t have to be Lucifer’s queen, but you threw that right back at my face, didn’t you? You gladly took the crown anyway. The only fucking difference was that you let your father break me down for weeks first.”

Sabrina felt her heart tighten in her chest at the reminder of it. Those grueling weeks she’d spent trying to sort out how to get to him. Not sleeping. Hardly eating. Bringing her mortal friends into it, ignoring their concerns that she was overworking herself.

“And I did it as a last resort, Nick, you know that. I did it for you. I became Queen for you, but it didn’t matter either, because you went and left me again the second I got you back to go and mess around with sex demons and get wasted within an inch of your life.” It was a low blow, she knew it, especially after she had told herself she’d forgiven him for that. Nick had not been in his right mind, she’d said so herself, and yet, here she was, throwing it at him again.

Nick was rigid, his lips set in a straight line. “I don’t want to talk about this right now, Sabrina, just drop it.”

“Of course you don’t. You never did. You would have rather let it ruin you than to let me try and help you.”

“When was I supposed to ask for your help? At the fucking carnival in front of your friends? Or was I supposed to wait until you were done with your queenly duties for the evening, or after you were done flirting with that blonde prick?” Nick asked, and when Sabrina opened her mouth to respond, he continued, “At the time, I would have rather you left me in the pit of Hell with whatever sliver of honor I had left than for you to have dragged me out of there and then left me to ruin myself here on Earth where everyone could watch.”

“I wanted to help you!” Sabrina cried back, tears welling in her eyes at her frustration. She couldn’t imagine leaving Nick down there. “It kills me every day that I couldn’t help you, that I couldn’t get you out of there sooner. That I hadn’t listened to you when you told me you still felt him there. But the truth is, we’re just kids, Nick, how were we supposed to navigate this to perfection?”

“Isn’t that the fucking truth,” Nick groaned in agreement a moment later.

They locked eyes, staring at each other. It was the truth. At sixteen, what did she know about fixing people? Or being the literal descendent of the Devil? And he hadn’t exactly been dealt the proper resources to figure himself out, either, because witches didn’t operate like mortals. They didn’t pay for therapy or seek help from others. They were told to deal with it themselves, to hide away their hurt like it was shameful. So Nick had done just that.

At least, Sabrina realized guiltily, she had walked away from the Academy because she had that luxury. Meanwhile, Nick had stayed there, every bit of the place reminding him of the hand he had been dealt, and what he had dealt back in response. She had been too preoccupied with the way no one in the Academy looked at her the same anymore to realize he was in the same boat. Once, he had been the selfless boy who had trapped the Devil in his body, but now, he was the boy who had set him free in exchange for a high he had hoped would kill him.

They had both sunk their claws into each other, had refused to acknowledge it until they’d left gashes so deep they were unmendable. 

When Nick spoke again, after several seconds of charged silence, his demeanor was calmer, his voice a tad softer.

“You wanted to help, I know. But you can’t, Sabrina. The only person that can help me is me. The only person that has to live with everything I’ve done is me, and I’m trying. That’s why I broke up with you, because it was selfish to love you after everything I put you through, and I needed time and space to forgive myself, and…It’s really difficult. It’s difficult to know that everyone else is moving on, and I can’t get over what happened to me. So I need to leave. For now or forever, I don’t know, but I need to, Sabrina.” 

Carefully, he stepped a little closer to her.

“I’m sorry. I know I never really said that to you, and I know that it isn’t enough, but I am. I’m sorry for everything, Sabrina. I never wanted to hurt you.”

I only wanted to hurt myself.

He didn’t have to say it for her to understand what he’d meant.

“I’m sorry, too, Nick. I’ve made comments I shouldn’t have and—”

“At the end of the day, you saved my life, Spellman,” he said, trying the name out again a little timidly. “You got me clean. You fought to let me have a second chance, and I don’t plan to waste it.” He paused. “You loved me. You showed me how to love.”

“I still love you, Nick, I—” I tried to sever my feelings but it didn’t work, “I do.”

 “And I still love you,” he told her without a shred doubt in his voice. “But I need time.”

Sabrina nodded, felt a tear spill down her cheek finally. She wiped at it before he could, afraid that if he touched her again, she wouldn’t be able to let him go. “I know,” she said quietly. Nick hiked the bag up higher on his shoulder, giving her an apologetic look. He had to go. Sabrina had to let him go. “Stay safe, please.”

“I will.”

Sabrina nodded. That was that, then. “Goodbye, Nick.”

He gave her a shoulder a squeeze when he brushed past her. “See you, Sabrina.”

[kpopchangedme]

Im Jaebeom | Pregnancy!au [M]

Jaebeom read so many baby-related books he's forgotten how to enjoy some simple pleasures... (Oh, and you are obviously cranky and hormonal but he knows better than to tell you that!)

Protagonists: Im Jaebeom & You

Word Count: 2.4k

Genre: NSFW - Newly Weds - Romance - Angst - Pregnancy - Pregnancy sex- Smut || [Drabble 2k]

Prompts: “I can’t help the fact that I’m so goddamn moody all the freaking time” + “Should have gotten a puppy.” [Anon]

Lyly's note: Is this sexy pregnancy!au worthy of Things I Wish I Knew or what? lol. Pregnant ladies, go get some! ;)

GOT7 | M.list

You let out a loud swear, stepping on a phone charger someone has somehow abandoned in the middle of the living room. It freaking hurts, like a tiny torture device, tore the sensitive skin of your foot. Of course, when you sit on the couch to examine it, it looks perfectly fine. 

“Should've gotten a damn puppy,” You curse again under your breath, unreasonably livid. 

Instantly, the guilty party's head pops out of the doorframe to his office. “Honey!” Jaebeom considers you from head to toe in outrage, “The Shrimp has ears.”

That's his thing now that the third-semester started; obsessing about auditory development and what the baby is able to hear. Swears, news coverage of dramatic events and loud quarrels are strictly prohibited. He plays music whenever he has the chance, boasting about how you are growing a music whiz. 

Ever since he read his first damn pregnancy book, Jaebeom turned into a helicopter daddy-to-be, always hovering to make sure you are doing everything right. At the end of the third prenatal visit, he decided on moving his whole studio at home to work and mommysit – as he calls it.

By the time he was done with the fourth pregnancy book, you felt like nothing but an incubator to his spawn. That's not exactly what you wished your first year of life together would feel like. But then again, you didn't plan on getting pregnant on your honeymoon, the first time you two ditched contraception. It happened very fast. Everyone called it a blessing and you did too for a while, you were elated. Right until you started to lose your hair and struggle with acne like a damn teenager… Now it varies daily, you are either excited or scared shitless, in high spirits or easily irritable, you can't tell before it shifts. Overbearing, Jaebeom has gotten better than yourself at reading your daily disposition.

When you glare at him, he straightens worryingly in the doorframe, partly to blame for your current mood. “Don't look at me!” You snap in exasperation, still rubbing the sole of your aching foot. “Can you stop looking at me like that?”

He risks taking a few steps in your general direction, expertly assessing the situation, “Like what?”

"Like I’m a ticking bomb; like I'm gonna start yelling at you any second!” Freezing in the middle of the place, he presses his tongue to his cheek. You are almost shouting, but he knows better than to point that out.

“I’m not,” Jaebeom comes to sit by you guardedly. He makes sure not to maintain eye contact for too long, as though you're a dangerous fickle animal. "Did you hurt yourself?"

You hiss threateningly at the question but he still reaches for your perpetually bloated foot. Gently, he massages it, flashing you a dumb innocent smile. Still sullen, you at least allow him to do that much.

Fine, you do not completely hate having your man work from home. 

“I can’t help the fact that I’m so goddamn moody all the freaking time...” 

“Moody?” You cross your arms over your chest and Jaebeom chuckles, shaking his head. “You're the living definition of serene honey... You're the best. I love you.”

“Shuddup.” Groaning at the fake compliment, you offer your second foot after a minute of pampering, slightly appeased. “Stop trying so hard, it turns me into a cliché bitch.” You don't miss Jaebeom’s grimace at the word, but he isn't brave enough to correct you again. “Tell you what, if the baby's first word is a swear... I’ll do everything you ask of me for a year.”

"Everything? A whole year?” Raising his eyebrows suggestively, Jaebeom leans in for a lengthy kiss. “You know I can't say no to a promise like that. I would abuse that power, I’m quite imaginative.” You laugh against his mouth, sliding your arms around his neck for him to linger a little longer. Your hub has one hell of a gift, he can always change your mood, even on the worst days. That being said, you're always in the mood for some sexy time with him lately. You just have limited positions and flexibility. “I might teach the Shrimp your favourite cusses just to win that privilege.”

“You wouldn't dare.”

Laughing, Jaebeom sits back but you follow, managing to climb him without difficulty. It's clear he has started something with his massage, stirred your desire. “I’m not done,” he warns pointlessly, not talking about you, "I'm working hard." He points his chin to the studio, but you don't climb down. There's no way he believes you will let him go back to his office right now.

“Very hard yeah,” chuckling, you pull at the collar of his shirt, “Mister Producer.” He breaks the kiss to get rid of the piece of clothing himself, eager to entertain your favourable disposition. Some sacrifices are harder to make than others, and taking a break from work for quick sex is a no brainer. Your hands roam his shoulders, even after all this time you still can't get enough. “Did you save it?” Nudging your nose to his, you pull away to throw your loose gown over your head. 

Jaebeom groans, already expertly unhooking your bra, “Of course I saved, but I’ll need to get back to it...” His mouth explores your neck and you throw your head back, savouring every single one of his kisses. “Feeling better?” He hums, lightly sucking your skin and you moan. Fine, having your man work from home is the best damn thing that ever happened to you. At your natural response, Jaebeom cups your swollen breasts, thumbs rubbing circles on your areolas. 

“Shit.” Instantly, he shushes in disapproval making you laugh. You lean into him as much as your 29 weeks belly allows. “I can't help myself, I'm too sensitive.”

“I can see that baby,” Jaebeom marvels as his constant stroking of your nipples makes your thighs jerk. “I read third-semester’ orgasms are incredibly intense...” You rise to your knees to slide his fleece jogger pants down, smoothly freeing his erection. These darn books sure reveal some useful information sometimes… “What do you think?”

“Oh, how would I possibly know that?” He stops altogether, freezing under you at the joke. Barely two days prior, you finished twice before he did – very expressively – but still, he hesitates. For a man as skilled as he is, it sure is easy to make him question himself. Jaebeom is contemplating his life, a dubious look on his face when you take his cock in your palm. His eyes shut, goosebumps spreading on his body at your touch. Smirking, you stroke him leisurely, “I guess you’ll have to keep working hard so we can find out.” You say that but really, you’ve been so hypersensitive lately, he could make you reach your high without even trying.

“You know...” Opening his eyes lazily, Jaebeom frowns; “I'm not sure how I feel… About the Shrimp is hearing all our sexy talk...” It's your turn to stop everything.

Oh no, he did not just say that… Not after all the stuff he put you through!

“I swear to God, Im fucking Jaebeom! I let you have your way until now; I gave up caffeine, cheese and fish…” Suddenly livid, you start checking things off of your fingers. “You are worried of dumb stuff you read about despite the doctor's best opinion... So, I let you hire a cleaning service; I stopped driving myself around and dyeing my hair; I allowed you to post our ultrasounds all over your socials; I didn't say anything when you sent the cats away to your mom's…” His mouth is open in awe as you angrily go on. He's clearly racking his brain to find out what he said wrong. Him and his stupid pregnancy obsessions. “But this... This is where I draw the fucking line Jaebeom. If you stop making love to me because it creeps you out... Honest to God, I will murder you. I don't care what the baby hears. The doctor said it was safe. I want sex, I need sex. Give me sex, or I'll destroy you.”

“Honey,” Jaebeom bites his lips, struggling to conceal his amusement, “I wasn’t saying we should stop. It doesn't bother me like that...” His right palm rubs your lower back in repetition to ease you. “I was just wond–”

“I don't care what you wonder about,” you interrupt, still down, “just do me.”

Before Jaebeom can fully laugh at you flaring over nothing again, you're kissing him roughly, intended on getting your way. Wriggling under you to get to a better angle, he doesn't seem too affected, simply enjoying the hormonal rollercoaster ride. One of the actual perks of your pregnancy is being in the mood quickly and it's more than just your desire, it's physical too. Something that is undeniable when his hand finds its way between your legs. You're ready for him already, wet and messy. Though you rock into his palm briefly, there's only one thing on your mind right this instant. 

You don't want to wait any longer to feel him inside you. You use Jaebeom's shoulder as a fulcrum to position yourself, raising on your knees and he helps, holding his cock as you gradually sink down. Once you're sitting back on him on the couch, filled, you pause, dropping your forehead to his. Eye to eye, out of focus, Jaebeom pecks your lips tenderly. His hands caress your belly on their way to the side of your thighs. That's enough to make you soft all over again. The power that man holds over you knows no limit. Careful, you rise, rocking your hips forward to add friction before sliding back down. This lazy back and forth goes on for a while and every time you fall down and your ass meets his thighs with a clap, you feel like breaking. 

“Okay?” Jaebeom mumbles, using his strength to firmly guide you upwards. You're thankful for his help because you're heavy and tired. You nod, letting out a weird throaty sound when he fills you up once more.

Jaebeom chuckles, entertained by your acute senses and unusual reactions. Sliding on the large couch to lay, he makes sure you follow closely, riding him. From this position, he can take better control, raising his hips to slam into you. You coo when he does, hovering above to let him have his way. You're already too taken by so little. There's a gentle thud in your belly at the shift of position but Jaebeom doesn't seem to feel the baby stir, awakened by your unrest. Thank God, because the last thing you want right now is for him to stop or slow down. It's not something abnormal or new at all, but now that the baby's movements are getting more noticeable from the outside, you wouldn't be surprised if it messed up with Jaebeom's sexy groove. In the dark, he picks a swift pace, thrusting faster but lighter, making sure to stretch this moment for as long as you both can.

Yet, you're shaky and unfocused, unable to calm yourself. Way too fast, you come undone, overwhelmed by the friction and pleasure. Ecstatic, you drop on your hands, on all fours, as your intense orgasm washes through you. Aware you're peaking already, Jaebeom maintains his rhythm, breathlessly laughing at your shortage of stamina. Sure, he was right, pregnancy orgasms are amazing but they also come almost unannounced and are ridiculously exhausting.

Losing the smile, Jaebeom frowns in concentration, probably trying to finish too. After a whole minute, you're still being carried by your own paroxysm, core quavering when his hips halt altogether. Sighing deeply, he cums in spurts inside you, letting go probably more hastily than he would have wanted to. He's a team player. He knows you won't be able to handle him for long after oversensitivity hits you.

Afterwards, you both stay like that for a moment – as one – trying to repossess yourselves. Some days, it's like you're an entirely different person. Food doesn't taste the same, you yell at your caring husband over nothing and your orgasms are absurdly drawn-out. 

“Hey,” Jaebeom speaks up after an eternity and you take it as a cue to pull away, letting him fall out of you, “that was very quick. Are you alright, was it good?” Typical of him lately, being so overly concerned, you snort. Reaching for the tissue box on the coffee table, he offers them up so you can clean yourself. Still overpowered, you nod, laying back naked on the couch to do so.

What a sight it must be, a stranded whale in the middle of his living room.

Jaebeom doesn't seem to see that though. Transfixed, he positions himself to comfortably kiss and hold your heavy belly. His fingers linger, tracing patterns over the stretched skin. “What about you Shrimp?” He asks mouth pressed to the bump, tickling. “How are you doing?” Sure enough, the baby rolls, following the sound of his familiar reassuring voice. 

“We definitely woke her up”, you announce casually, grabbing one of his hands to position it better. Now that it's over, hopefully, he won't mind or get weirded out by that idea. “And you’ll need another nickname, we're both getting huge.”

“Sorry,” Jaebeom apologizes with adoration when there's a more obvious kick. To him, his baby girl's tumbling never gets old. To you neither, but it's a different sensation entirely. Whispering in confidence, he adds, “You'll always be a shrimp to me." At the words, you can't help the flutters you feel, not from the baby. When he looks up this time, Jaebeom doesn't seem as apprehensive of your reaction. You're on the magical post-coital cloud of happiness, together. “What?” If it could, your heart would physically expand from emotion at the sight, swelling with unconditional love. As an only answer, you run a hand through his locks and he cutely grins. “Shrimp, I think we're safe for now. I don't think mommy wants to murder daddy anymore...”

“Daddy needs to get over himself,” you dramatically roll your eyes, smiling, “he knows mommy loves him, no matter what…”

GOT7 | M.list

[not-poignant]

Hi Pia, I hope you’re well. Please feel free to ignore this if it’s too personal... but how do you deal with death as a concept when you have the chronic illnesses that you do? Are you afraid to die, and if you are, how do you keep from constantly thinking about how you could die early (so to speak) if your health takes a turn? I’ve had a lot of health scares recently and it’s getting harder and harder to just live without feeling constantly afraid. Thank you for everything you do.

Hi anon!

Firstly, I am very sorry to hear about your health scares. They suuuuuck. They really suck. I’m replying partly out of solidarity, but I don’t know if I have anything that will really work for you, because sometimes I really struggle to find things that work for me, but I’m happy to share what I’ve picked up along the way. <3 And I hope in the meantime that things pick up for you.

The timing of this is pretty spot on, in that I’m going through pretty serious scanxiety at the moment (what we call ‘anxiety around getting scans for cancer’ in my cancer support group that I’m a member of). I had a full body PET scan two weeks ago (no results yet), and I have a head/neck MRI on Friday, for which I can hopefully get the results Mon/Tuesday. But I don’t have my follow up with my Endocrinologist until late July, so I won’t know for about 6 weeks if I have any new tumours in my abdomen.

I definitely don’t want to die from this disease, and it will probably be the thing that kills me. Not any time soon, that’s less likely, but it’s just...likely overall. A lot of the statistics are stacked against me, I have three primary tumours in my head/neck, and there’s no indication that my body is going to stop growing them, and there’s no cure and likely to be no cure in my lifetime.

So yeah, I get anxious. I am afraid to die (I mean in general, unless I’m suicidal, but also specifically the way this disease is likely to kill me: progressively taking my hearing, my ability to swallow and talk, my ability to move my arms and my head and my neck, my sense of balance and ability to walk upright without collapsing, and more - which doesn’t even count metastatic disease - is a horrible way to die). And I live with the knowledge that like, it literally takes one scan result to change my entire life all over again (hence, scanxiety).

BUT, living in constant fear is just...not helpful. It’s understandable, it is an understandable emotional response, but it’s not a helpful response. Because what matters most in these scenarios is quality of life; and you get quality of life (in chronic illness and acute disease) by managing emotional outcomes as vigilantly and with as much self-compassion (and patience) as possible. So these are the things that work for me, if they don’t work for you, that’s fine, some might even feel completely wrong for you, that’s also fine and normal. The things we tell ourselves to cope in this are deeply personal. I hate the phrase ‘fuck cancer’ for example, other people who have cancer use it as a battle cry and feel strong because of it.

***

* ‘Can I literally do anything more than I’m doing to change the outcomes of my illness without hurting myself? No? Then admit you have no control over this and let it go.’ This is something I tell myself when I start panicking. ‘But what if I get this result what if this happens what if this tumour starts growing again what if.’ I just look at myself sternly and say: ‘HOW is this helpful?’ It’s NOT. Knowing the answers to any of those what ifs changes nothing in the moment except my anxiety, distress and fear levels. And then I say ‘so WHAT would be helpful? What do you have control over?’ And then I might wait and think... ‘well...I really like that Youtube channel One Meal A Day I might watch one of those videos’ or ‘well...I might journal about my feelings and give them some space (see further down) and then try and let them go because just cycling around them isn’t productive.’ Sometimes we hang onto anxiety because our brain convinces us it will somehow be helpful. With this stuff it rarely is.

* WORRY TIME. Yay worry time! Set aside 5-20 minutes a day (or every three days, or once a week, but you might need to start with once a day when things are really bad) to write down ALL of your worries about your illnesses. All the irrational things, the logical things, ALL of it, no matter how embarrassing. And omg, chase those worries down. Really sit and be with your worry. Give it space. Let it speak! But do it with the intention that once those 5-20 minutes are over, that’s it. You’re done. If your worries start up again, say gently to yourself: ‘You told me all of this during Worry Time, but if this is new, please save it for tomorrow, I will give you space to share with me then!’ Treat your worry like a little animal that doesn’t know any better, and has to be taught some boundaries. Worry Time becomes the boundary. That doesn’t mean you won’t feel anxious the rest of the time, just if you do, it’s easier to step back mindfully and go ‘huh, I’m anxious right now, that’s really interesting, but I’m going to do something about that tomorrow, and so for now I’m just going to acknowledge it but I’m going to try not to let it ruin my day.’

* ‘Everything right now, this moment, this second is exactly the way it should be.’ This is Taoism, and some people hate it. I use this most often when I’m in excruciating pain, or terrified, or literally in a panic attack. I don’t know why it helps so much, but it does. And I think it’s because it works like this: ‘Everything right now, this moment, this second is exactly the way it should be. Terrible things are happening all over the world. Other people are feeling pain like I am. Animals and plants go on living and dying. Right now everything in this moment is perfect messy imperfection and I am a part of that, a small cog in a huge ecosystem. I am a part of something, I belong in this, and I hate it - I really hate it - but even that is part of that messy imperfection. It just is. And therefore, I can release any attachment or urgency to change the things that I cannot change.’ And then...I will still be in pain, or having a panic attack, or terrified, but it will feel integrated and connected to me. It will feel like it’s a part of something. Still, ultimately, sometimes useless but...even useless excesses of terror are a part of the messy imperfection of life.

This leads onto the second:

* ‘In this moment, I am okay.’ Not like, literally 100% healthy. I’ll never be that. But I’m okay. I’m okay as a person and a human being who deserves love and comfort, and I’m okay to just grab another minute to feel okay. You can pair this with mindfulness meditation, and Smiling Mind has a great free app, and most of the meditations are between 5-8 minutes long. Sometimes ‘I’m okay’ doesn’t mean ‘I feel okay’ - and that’s okay too! I’m not trying to erase my emotions, I’m not trying to make myself never feel afraid of dying, that is an appropriate response to something that literally threatens my life but isn’t doing it urgently right this second. And because it’s not doing it right this second, well, right this second, I’m okay.

* Goals that have nothing to do with your health. For me, probably pretty obviously, it’s my writing and my art and similar. I have responsibilities towards my loved ones and my animal companions. Sometimes just...putting my head down and getting stuff done helps take my mind off things, and that also makes me feel productive and like I’m more than my illnesses. Socialising is a part of this. You are so much more than your illnesses, but you have to live that way too, that’s your responsibility to yourself, to remember that you are more, and then to embrace that in your actions (I mean, keeping in mind spoons/energy levels), even when you’re not always feeling it.

* Look at the things you can control and shore them up where you can. Like, consider writing a will. One of the things I’ve had to do is consider what I’ll do if I get sick so quickly I can never finish Fae Tales or never write anything again. These practical steps can be distressing, but sometimes they can answer background anxieties you didn’t know you had, and put them to bed. ‘I don’t need to worry about this, I’ve already done this part.’ Sometimes it’s just knowing that every time you see a specialist, you’re going to write down your questions, so you no longer need to worry about forgetting them. Things like that seem little, but they add up as background anxieties we do have control over.

* If you can afford it; Therapy. Depending on your illness/es, there may be support groups. Some are dodgy as shit (Fibromyalgia groups have categorically been the worst spaces I’ve ever encountered for genuine support), but generally speaking for serious illnesses, there are support groups. They can be an incredible resource. I help moderate the Australian/New Zealand Para/Pheo Support Group (there’s only one, lol), and like sometimes it’s depressing (people I care about do, on occasion, die), but knowing I’m not alone, knowing I can get advice about what to ask my surgeons or my Endocrinologists or Oncologists, especially for a rare disease? Fuck that’s so invaluable. And being able to help other people advocate for themselves has been really empowering for me.

* Don’t expect to get rid of your fear or anxiety entirely. If you’re alive and you’re human and you like life, you just can’t do that. So remember that when you’re feeling those things, you’re being a normal human being, and you are not alone (even when you feel like the loneliest person in the world, even that’s a part of it). It won’t fix those things, sometimes you can’t. Some days I just give as like, shit days, it happens. June I’ve given up as kind of a shit month honestly. Am I having good moments? Yes. Am I stressed every day about this disease? YES! Fun times. (I won’t be stressed every day if the scan results show that everything is the same tbh, like, then I’ll go back to ‘normal’ where I rarely think about it).

* Don’t write off the day until the day is over. I used to have this habit (and still can sometimes) of writing off the day as being ‘a bad day’ because of a terrible morning. I actually started this habit as a child, because of trauma and abuse, and it was something I kept doing because of mental illness. So this is something I was doing long before cancer came along and additionally kicked my ass. These days, even though I feel so bad sometimes I feel like hell, my entire life is a write off, I try and keep in mind that one thing can change the tone of the day and make it better. And that ‘thing’ can be me and my choices. And the fact is, even if I try some Youtube videos, or to pet my cats, or talk to friends, or whatever and it doesn’t work, at least I can look back and reassure myself: ‘You’re trying so hard, you’re really trying your best’ and also ‘you know this never lasts, it never has, you still have moments where you feel good, which means you’ll have a moment where you’ll feel good again. It’s okay. I’m okay.’

* Dark humour can be a saviour. Oh boy, can it ever. But be careful who you share it with.

* Gratitude for what you have now, and not what you might not in the future, because the future is an illusion, it’s not here now. But you are. I have a journal where I write down something I’m grateful for every day. Even if I’m feeling cynical and hateful and anxious and bitter. And then I might just say ‘I’m grateful for chips’ or ‘I’m grateful for that nice leaf I saw but nothing else’ lol. Just something. I’m grateful I can still hear, I might not hear one day, but I’m listening to a song right now. That matters. I’m grateful I can walk. I’m grateful I can read this post. I’m grateful I can still write my books despite the mild cognitive brain damage I got from radiation. My gratitude doesn’t always feel warm or nice, but I am still, somewhere, deep down, glad I haven’t lost those things.

***

It’s hard, and many of these things take time to learn, and repetition, and getting back on the wagon when you forget. Some days they won’t help, and some days you’ll be so glad of one 5 minute mindfulness meditation it saves the whole rest of the day for you. Sometimes sleeping is a really good reset tool for the brain.

Some people find Buddhism helpful (all life is suffering can become pretty zen when you’re suffering), I found the philosophy of Taoism helpful on top of my regular paganism.

ANYWAY this post is now...2,200 words long fuck that’s longer than some of my university essays I’M SO SORRY so I’m going to stop. Just, please anon, from the bottom of my heart, be gentle with yourself. It’s hard. This stuff is hard. It requires an unfair amount of effort to make it less hard, but that’s all life gives us, because life never promised to be fair or just or compassionate to us. So we must be fair and just and compassionate to ourselves. And that, in its messy imperfection, is all we can do to be a perfect part of this world. <3

[wispagold]

For anon (and sorry everyone in case the readmore doesn't work, I'm on Tumblr mobile but if you blacklist long post this should disappear)

:readmore:

That's a really great question and definitely something I still internally struggle with on occasion but I'm far happier than I used to be with my body so hopefully I can give you some advice. If you wanna talk about this further, my DMs are open - having people who understand your journey is really important and I'm happy to support you (or anyone else) in that.

For me, a part of the weight loss definitely began as a self hatred thing. I stepped on the scale, hated the number, and thought 'I need to be better'. I've gone up and down with my weight for years, partly due to this feeling of inadequacy - I have a tendency to bury my head in the sand and eat my feelings, hoping it'll all somehow be fine the next day.

This time is definitely different. I plan my meals for the week each Sunday with my boyfriend, factoring in important aspects like 'how fun/easy will this be to cook', 'how filling will this be?', 'what can we add or substitute to make it healthier?'. That alone has altered my perspective - I'm eating better because I enjoy it, now. We have a cheat day each week, and sometimes I overindulge on days that aren't my cheat days, but remembering how much I enjoyed cooking the healthy meal brings me back without feeling any guilt or shame. Like yeah, that takeaway pizza was good and I'm glad I had it, but making chicken and rice tomorrow would give me such a sense of accomplishment, both that I've made a meal and that I've eaten something a bit more nutritional.

Same goes for exercise (which I can't do a lot of due to my disabilities). Honestly it was a struggle to make myself go for a weekly walk around the block, but having an excuse to put on my nice coat, experience and photograph my neighbourhood at different times of day, even feeling the wind and sun on my face - it was all incredible. I really feel like I've fallen in love with the world more than ever before, to the point where the weight loss (though important to me) is almost a by-product.

Making daily life less of a chore and injecting elements of fun, no matter how small, can be massive in boosting your mood. I don't shed weight every walk I go on, but I enjoy myself. I don't shed weight every time I dance around the kitchen with Spotify on in the bg, but I enjoy myself. Ultimately, these changes can and probably will lead to some weight loss. Which is a nice bonus to how much fun I've had.

Another helpful thing is having a good support network. I'm in a few Fitbit forums for people losing weight and I've found it's been incredible for my mental state. Everyone is at a different starting weight, with a different end goal, and a different daily goal they try to reach each day. People post about losses, gains, times they've eaten more food than planned/stopped exercising for a while/anything that could potentially contribute to weight gain, and the response is always support, never shame. My daily goal for steps is absolutely tiny, and I take my weight goals in fairly small stages, but I'm still always applauded for whatever I do. Too tired to exercise? That's alright, your body deserves rest. Ate a bunch of junk food? Well it's important to eat and you've achieved that. You know each day won't be this way so let yourself enjoy the days that are.

To this end, ensuring that any close family and friends understand what you want to get out of your weight loss journey is important. I don't find it helpful for someone else to go 'you shouldn't be eating (x)'. I'm responsible for my body, and sometimes I don't treat it in the healthiest way, but I'm taking care of myself a bit at a time. And any healthy meal I do opt for, any bit of exercise I do, is an achievement. That does *not* mean that unhealthy meals I choose equal a failing. One of my teachers once said this about exams, and I think it's kind of relevant (at least to me) - 'you aren't starting at 100 and losing points every time you get a question wrong. You start at 0, and every bit of knowledge you add, every bit of theory you throw at the page, you're improving your grade.'

Lastly, I wanna mention how I feel in my body and how I'm aware my weight affects it. I know it's a lot of weight on my already weak ankles and knees, because I feel it. I sweat more (granted, mostly due to the medication I'm on, but the fat does not help', it's harder to get up from chairs, my lung capacity is much smaller than other people, and so on. Knowing that when I make these small changes, I'm potentially improving the physical issues I have, as opposed to the cosmetic flaws I may feel I have, is a great feeling. This definitely isn't relevant to everybody who weighs a lot, but I thought I'd throw it in in case its another avenue to explore.

Sorry this was so long. I've thought a lot about how to answer this in the most helpful way and I hope I've succeeded, at least a little. My DMs and ask box are always open so feel free to drop by, and good luck with your journey of self acceptance. Your body is amazing at any size, truly - it's the thing that carries you where you want to go, lets you hug your loved ones, allows you to see the world. It will always be a gift, even at its heaviest. 💕

[vesuviannights]

Can we get a number 4 with the bet being between Lucio and Julian towards the MC? I really hope I'm doing this right.... First ask I've ever done.....

Anon #2 I know you said or but WHY NOT BOTH?  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Lucio/You/Julian. Gender Neutral reader (no pronouns or body parts, just nipples). Lemon.

Julian, cocky as ever, makes a bet with Lucio that he can make you come just by sucking your nipples alone. Lucio, always turned on by delayed gratification, accepts the bet and extends the terms. (Told from Lucio’s point-of-view, but still 2nd person for you as the reader).

Featuring: nipple sucking, semi-public sex and masturbation, orgasm denial and edging.

**

“I bet you a week’s worth of orgasms I can make our love come from nipple sucking alone.”

Lucio doesn’t know why he does it, but before he can stop himself a deep snort erupts from his chest and a roll has thrown his eyes off to the side, and he sneers at Julian, “Three weeks says you can’t.”

Julian’s delighted laugh is almost lost to Lucio’s own hurried thoughts, waves of No no no! You absolute moron, three whole weeks?! Why would you even—

Julian’s lips slide against his, tongue tracing the seam of Lucio’s lips and cutting off his partly horrified thoughts. The doctor’s dumbass cocky smirk—one Lucio knows for sure was half-learned from himself—tells Lucio that Julian knows the exact thoughts crossing his debauched mind.

“You’re just a slut for punishment at this point, aren’t you?” Julian murmurs to him. He sighs against Lucio’s lips then catches the bottom one between his teeth, rolling it to earn a delighted little moan.

And as he pulls back and swaggers off toward where you hover at the edge of the room—his eyebrow cocked, hand pushing through his hair, patch pushed up so that he can use both eyes to devour you—Lucio sways on the spot, black spots popping in his vision from the wave of desire that crashes through him.

He tries to rearrange his features into a glare, but he thinks—he thinks all he manages is a flushed pout—

He—

Get it together, stand straight, straight—

I mean, you’re not, but—

“My love! How is our guest treating you this evening?”

How has Jules already made it over there?!

Swallowing the thick lump in his throat—the one that is strangely horny for something that is merely a lump—Lucio slinks over to the columns on the edge of the room, the ones you yourself have been pressed up against by Julian.

The doctor, one arm beside your head, both eyes devouring you, has his knee bent and pressed up into your crotch, the other hand on his lip, and every one of his teeth glinting in the candlelight. Lucio can’t hear a word he is saying, but it’s clear by the crimson flush racing across your cheeks and chest that it is quite possibly Julian’s filthiest and smoothest work to date.

Twenty seconds and already our love is a stuttering mess beneath your wicked gaze and words. I’m not surprised, but couldn’t you at least be a little louder?

As though sensing his thoughts, Julian angles his body just enough to catch Lucio’s eye, the movement revealing Lucio to you. His eyes lock with yours, taking in the part of your lips, the quivering breaths that shake you. Julian—his eyes never leaving Lucio’s—reaches up to push a strand of hair from your face, and is rewarded almost instantly when you swoon and lean into his hand.

That, of all things, is what gets Lucio’s cock twitching, what has him pressing himself closer to the column and barely managing to conceal his shallow thrusts and grinds as he tries to get himself off.

He barely even realises he’s doing it, too obsessed with watching the scene unfold in front of him, caught in the arousal and allure of Julian angling your head so he can tilt his lips against yours, so he can slide a hand under whatever material he can find, making you gasp and part your lips so that he can delve further into your mouth and suckle softly on your tongue.

From the seemingly distant roar of the party, someone calls Lucio’s name, and the slow and delicate waltz between the three of you quickly becomes a near disastrous tango.

Julian yanks you away from the column and walks you back, his stalking strides long and predatory as he moves you further into the shadows and away from prying eyes, but there is nowhere you will be safe from the sounds of your own cries. Lucio follows, darting from column to column, a slip in the shadows, palming himself through the painfully tight material of his dress pants, barely concealing his whines.

When he finds the right shadow and you are unveiled to him again, head thrown back in a half-concealed corner as Julian begins to work your clothes off your upper half, Lucio leans back against another column across the aisle, perfectly in view as he works the buttons of his pants until his achingly hard cock springs free.

Away from the immediate cacophony of the party, he can hear your soft little moans, the sweet coos and amused little laughs as Julian unwraps you with a delicacy Lucio would certainly not have. If he was there, if he had been smart enough to challenge the dare instead of guaranteeing himself three weeks of orgasm denial because of Julian’s talented fucking lips and your overly sensitive fucking nipples, he could have been the one pressed up against you, suckling your neck and bare shoulders, working his way down to those pebbled nipples, causing you to whimper and groan and keen without ever having to touch another part of you.

“No hands, Jules,” Lucio groans out. “Remember the deal.”

Your eyes lift to lock with his, dark and accusing, as though you somehow hadn’t known exactly who had provoked such a wicked attack, and in response he tilts his head back against the cool marble behind him and begins gently thrusting into his own hand, a lazy movement that almost feels like he has already resigned himself to those three weeks of delectable torture.

“Oh ho ho, I remember the deal,” Julian chuckles. “I shall have our love keening and whimpering and sighing without so much as a single touch to anywhere except right. Here.”

Julian’s teeth nip at the skin around your nipples, and when you try to dig your hands into his hair to push him closer—barely seeming to register his words, to Lucio’s absolute delight—Julian snatches your wrists from the air and pins them to your sides.

And that is where his true work begins.

The flat of Julian’s tongue presses against your pebbled nipple, swirling once, twice, three times, before latching on and beginning to suckle. You cry out, a sound matched by Lucio’s own a moment later as he squeezes and milks his cock, his movements quickly becoming more frenzied, more desperate.

And as Julian switches to your other nipple, worshipping it with the same exquisite torture, Lucio swaps his hands, the cool metal of his glove sliding along his cock, drawing whimpers and moans and your name from somewhere deep within his chest, over and over and over again.

“Maybe we can play our own game, my love?” Julian asks, and it’s clear his words are for you. He traces a circle around your nipple with the tip of his tongue, then pulls back to blow gently. You cry out, a wretched sob that is intermingled with his name, with Lucio’s, with something that isn’t quite a please but is the closest you can manage in your current state.

“Lucio is set to lose three weeks’ worth of orgasms, should you come by my mouth on your nipples alone.” Julian switches to your other nipple, repeating his actions, adding in a scrape of his canines that pulls at your taut flesh. “Perhaps if you can come before he makes a mess all over his own hand, you could be the one to tell him no each time we fuck him in those three weeks?”

The greedy little noises are escaping your throat before Lucio even has a chance to comprehend what Julian has said—and your desperate cries of yes, yes, please, make me come, please— make Lucio stutter, make his chest tight.

“That’s not fair!” Lucio groans, and there’s a needy little whine that is so clearly woven between his words that he doesn’t bother to deny it, even to himself.

Julian gives an amused hum around your nipple before pulling back with a soft pop. “Mmmm, neither is using our poor love’s sensitive nipples and inability to resist my devious little tongue in order to amuse yourself at a dull party you threw.”

And then Julian returns to your pebbled nipples, suckling and moaning and humming his approval into them as he lavishes each one with his tongue, with little nips, flicking them with scrapes of his teeth as he drags them down, up, down—

Lucio growls beneath his breath, but his hand and matching thrusts have already become erratic again, gaze locked with yours as he tries to fuck himself to orgasm before you crash over the edge, as he tries to figure out through your gaze and sounds alone how close you are, how fast he has to move, how well he can distract you with his little whines and purrs of your name—

Your first cry tumbles from your lips, followed by the crack of your head as you throw it back against the marble column, every muscle in your body seizing in the throes of your orgasm.

“Yes, yes my love, that’s it, scream for us—” Julian’s teeth catch on your nipple and pull, and like a fucking puppet you keen and crash a second time, thrashing wildly against the hold he still has on your wrists.

With a guttural groan Lucio spills onto his hand, his stomach, his dishevelled clothes where they are gathered around him from where he so hastily pulled his cock out.

He whispers and groans and sighs your name, curses you, praises you, the knowledge that it will be his last orgasm for so many weeks only seeming to drive him harder, make it longer, a much larger load than normal. It draws twitches and whimpers and whines that last long after he has spilled all of his seed, the Count delighting in his post-orgasm torture almost as much as he is enjoying you watching him in his desperation, the humiliation of humping his own hand like a horny fucking adolescent.

The world goes dark as Lucio closes his eyes, shuddering breaths rolling through his body. He pushes the sweat-matted hair from his face with his clean hand, and when he opens his eyes once more, Julian is hovering above him, canines glinting in devilish delight.

“Say a prayer for our poor Count, my love,” he calls softly to you. He carefully pries Lucio’s hand from around his own cock. Julian steps to the side to allow you to see him as he continues to work said cock—now flaccid, limp, spent—with his own hand.

Lucio groans and cries and curses, moans for Julian to stop, paws at the column behind him to try and find purchase as he begins to thrust and grind into Julian’s touch. Just one more, one more, that’s all he needs, please please please—

And it’s over so quickly. Just as his cock begins to stir and twitch back to life, Julian pulls his hand away and beckons you over. Lucio—eyes hazed, jaw tight—watches as you stumble forward, nipples and chest glistening with Julian’s saliva, littered with bite marks and purple-haze bruises from his teeth.

“Would you like to begin his three weeks of torture now by cleaning him off?” Julian questions you. “He has made such a mess of himself.”

You nod eagerly and drop to your knees, and it is everything Lucio has not to curse you out as you—hot little tongue, wicked glint to your eyes—descend on his stomach and cock and thighs, licking and cleaning the come from his skin as Julian leans over him, one hand above Lucio’s head, the other playing idly with the exposed skin of Lucio’s chest.

Because it was his fault, really.

Nevermind that Julian was clearly baiting him from the start.

Nevermind that the doctor’s suave, cocky, dumbass energy had been next-level for the past two days and clearly looking for an outlet and a poor sole to torture.

Nevermind that the moment the words only and nipples and orgasm had left Julian’s lips, Lucio should have known exactly where it would end.

Well…okay, he had known, and whatever cocky dumbass energy Julian held for making wagers and making you scream, Lucio matched in his need for attention and…well, you. In any way, in any shape, in any form, even if that meant watching you suck him off and fuck him and torture him for three weeks without any chance of relief.

Because as much as Julian had manipulated him into making the wager and upping it almost instantly, Lucio had most certainly known what he was doing when he had started fucking his own hand and Julian had suggested it be you who denied him for three whole weeks.

Ripped from his thoughts, Lucio lets out a sharp, keening cry as his abdominal muscles begin to flex and contract. “Ah—AH—”

“Stop now,” Julian commands.

No no no no no—

“Nooo no no no no no no—”

You release Lucio’s cock with a soft pop, and the Count’s jaw locks tight from the effort of not throwing the first of what is sure to be many tantrums to come. He watches as you smile so innocently up at him, following Julian’s silent instructions of gently working his stiff cock back into his pants, then buttoning those pants, and then fixing everything else—the ruffled shirt, the skewed sash of medals, even the locks of hair that had fallen out of place.

“There,” you murmur, before placing a soft kiss to Lucio’s nose. “Much more presentable. Now we’re ready to re-join the party.”

Julian lets out a delighted little moan, his body rolling as he eyes you over, seemingly having forgotten Lucio already as he steps up to you with an easy swagger. “Mmmm, as much as I enjoy that glorious chest of yours, perhaps you should also make yourself presentable?”

To your credit, you only flush a little, and Lucio is left dissatisfied once more, not even able to watch the lovely haze of red as it spreads across your cheeks and chest.

“Ready, Lyusya?” Julian asks.

Lucio rolls his eyes at the name but says nothing, pushing himself away from the column. Julian pulls him in for a slow kiss, one where his tongue sweeps into Lucio’s mouth, where his teeth catch that kiss-swollen bottom lip, pulling tight before stepping away.

“I don’t think we’ve ever tried three weeks of denial before,” Julian comments, almost conversationally as the three of you move back toward the party. “Perhaps we’ll require a chastity cage this time?”

You hum and bounce in delight at the thought, and it’s only this that stops Lucio’s displeased look from becoming a complete sneer and a borderline storm-off.

It won’t be pleasant, with or without the cage, but perhaps…if that is the noise you make for him each time he is denied, and if this is the warmth in his chest he experiences every time Julian’s eyes rake him over like a delicious fucking meal he would devour on repeat for eternity…

Perhaps he can accept the unpleasantness, and the unequivocal and chaotic love it brings him.

**

🍑 Requesting | Masterlist | My Ao3

[pinksthetics]

Flag anon back, that might be true about problems between bisexuals and pansexuals (and I know that’s not limited to non binary people, but also binary trans people based on what my bi friends tell me and what my trans friends have been told), but that’s not stated at all in the post? And OP was very clear that they could make a post specific to bi issues in the notes, but this still happened anyway. To me this felt like a real “all lives matter” moment and if I was good at image editing I’d be slapping that prison stripe straight pride flag onto this because I basically get the same thing out of either. Feels like an issue important to me brought up on a post about people like me is now about infighting within the “B” umbrella without even saying the word pansexual? I’m sorry it’s just frustrating because I know this week someone will be telling me that I can’t be a lesbian if I’m attracted to non binary people, but hey did you know that bisexuality means you can pick two genders (that’s where the bi comes from!) and you can pick non binary and women! That is the plot to literal conversations that I have had with people. Totally fair that pansexuals don’t have a claim to non binary people, but OP was telling people in the notes to stop making it about bi people - bisexuals weren’t excluded to be mean, they were excluded because people tend to be far more close minded about “homosexuals” and who they can be attracted to. Again I’m sorry, I’m just tired of having my identity policed and I’m frustrated and partly taking it out on you. People keep telling me and my trans friends that “bisexuality is the only moral sexuality” and that “the only people who could love a trans person are bisexual” so there’s a lot of real life harmful messaging there 😔

ok putting ur next ask and my response under the read more bc this got rly long 

Flag anon again, okay I think I just needed to kind of yell that out into the empty void that is the internet. Sorry to have made you the victim of that dump, but I guess all of the things have been telling me and my repressed feelings have been swirling around for a while. Just to be clear I fully have nothing against bisexuals as people (the majority of my irl friends are bisexual and are thankfully super nice apart from the odd micro aggressive comment). It just rubbed me the wrong way that I get hateful messaging from some people in the bisexual (not pansexual) community specifically and I felt like the original post might be something that those bisexual people might see and maybe introspect on their attitudes, but with the addition I feel like all of that is lost in them fighting an invisible unnamed enemy. Either way, I guess I have some trauma and this post set me off a bit so I’m sorry again! I just hope people will remember the original point of the post above all else because there are a lot of posts I’ve seen about bisexual and pansexual issues related to non binary people, but there are far less for lesbians and gay men sadly 😔

ok i understand what you’re saying and i see that op doesnt want people to derail the discussion from talking specifically about gay and lesbian people but the original post did say “every sexuality” and i feel like at this point you’re talking about issues beyond just the point of this post. you’re completely valid as a lesbian for being attracted to trans and nonbinary people but it doesnt sit right with me that you have this much frustration towards bi people, whether you realize it or not. 

the addition to the post really did not have any harmful messages as far as i see it, so it seems like your frustration stems from things that other people have said to you. im sorry that people have disrespected and invalidated you. however, the bi community is not “fighting an invisible unnamed enemy.” bi people face just as much invalidation and i recommend you look into that and try to understand it. there really needs to be solidarity between the gay and bi communities because, while we each face our own issues, theres a lot of overlap. 

once again, i completely understand that the original post was specific to gay and lesbian people. its not uncommon for people to add to posts and take away focus from where it should be. if you look in the notes of any posts you’re bound to find some upsetting comments. the important thing is that you have the choice to just reblog the original or even make your own post. 

i really hope you can speak with your friends about how hurtful their comments can be if they are saying things that come off as micro aggressions. and i hope you can find peace in solidarity throughout the lgbt community because honestly its counterproductive to create issues between communities. we all need a space to talk about the problems we face and we should all be supporting each other through it