#trouble thinking of the right words/brain fog

[sodacowboy]

fun sort of chaos today

[cocklessboy]

The biggest male privilege I have so far encountered is going to the doctor.

I lived as a woman for 35 years. I have a lifetime of chronic health issues including chronic pain, chronic fatigue, respiratory issues, and neurodivergence (autistic + ADHD). There's so much wrong with my body and brain that I have never dared to make a single list of it to show a doctor because I was so sure I would be sent directly to a psychologist specializing in hypochondria (sorry, "anxiety") without getting a single test done.

And I was right. Anytime I ever tried to bring up even one of my health issues, every doctor's initial reaction was, at best, to look at me with doubt. A raised eyebrow. A seemingly casual, offhand question about whether I'd ever been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. Even female doctors!

We're not talking about super rare symptoms here either. Joint pain. Chronic joint pain since I was about 19 years old. Back pain. Trouble breathing. Allergy-like reactions to things that aren't typically allergens. Headaches. Brain fog. Severe insomnia. Sensitivity to cold and heat.

There's a lot more going on than that, but those were the things I thought I might be able to at least get some acknowledgement of. Some tests, at least. But 90% of the time I was told to go home, rest, take a few days off work, take some benzos (which they'd throw at me without hesitation), just chill out a bit, you'll be fine. Anxiety can cause all kinds of odd symptoms.

Anyone female-presenting reading this is surely nodding along. Yup, that's just how doctors are.

Except...

I started transitioning about 2.5 years ago. At this point I have a beard, male pattern baldness, a deep voice, and a flat chest. All of my doctors know that I'm trans because I still haven't managed to get all the paperwork legally changed, but when they look at me, even if they knew me as female at first, they see a man.

I knew men didn't face the same hurdles when it came to health care, but I had no idea it was this different.

The last time I saw my GP (a man, fairly young, 30s or so), I mentioned chronic pain, and he was concerned to see that it wasn't represented in my file. Previous doctors hadn't even bothered to write it down. He pushed his next appointment back to spend nearly an hour with me going through my entire body while I described every type of chronic pain I had, how long I'd had it, what causes I was aware of. He asked me if I had any theories as to why I had so much pain and looked at me with concerned expectation, hoping I might have a starting point for him. He immediately drew up referrals for pain specialists (a profession I didn't even know existed till that moment) and physical therapy. He said depending on how it goes, he may need to help me get on some degree of disability assistance from the government, since I obviously shouldn't be trying to work full-time under these circumstances.

Never a glimmer of doubt in his eye. Never did he so much as mention the word "anxiety".

There's also my psychiatrist. He diagnosed me with ADHD last year (meeting me as a man from the start, though he knew I was trans). He never doubted my symptoms or medical history. He also took my pain and sleep issues seriously from the start and has been trying to help me find medications to help both those things while I go through the long process of seeing other specialists. I've had bad reactions to almost everything I've tried, because that's what always happens. Sometimes it seems like I'm allergic to the whole world.

And then, just a few days ago, the most shocking thing happened. I'd been wondering for a while if I might have a mast cell condition like MCAS, having read a lot of informative posts by @thebibliosphere which sounded a little too relatable. Another friend suggested it might explain some of my problems, so I decided to mention it to the psychiatrist, fully prepared to laugh it off. Yeah, a friend thinks I might have it, I'm not convinced though.

His response? That's an interesting theory. It would be difficult to test for especially in this country, but that's no reason not to try treatments and see if they are helpful. He adjusted his medication recommendations immediately based on this suggestion. He's researching an elimination diet to diagnose my food sensitivities.

I casually mentioned MCAS, something routinely dismissed by doctors with female patients, and he instantly took the possibility seriously.

That's it. I've reached peak male privilege. There is nothing else that could happen that could be more insane than that.

I literally keep having to hold myself back from apologizing or hedging or trying to frame my theories as someone else's idea lest I be dismissed as a hypochondriac. I told the doctor I'd like to make a big list of every health issue I have, diagnosed and undiagnosed, every theory I've been given or come up with myself, and every medication I've tried and my reactions to it - something I've never done because I knew for a fact no doctor would take me seriously if they saw such a list all at once. He said it was a good idea and could be very helpful.

Female-presenting people are of course not going to be surprised by any of this, but in my experience, male-presenting people often are. When you've never had a doctor scoff at you, laugh at you, literally say "I won't consider that possibility until you've been cleared by a psychologist" for the most mundane of health problems, it might be hard to imagine just how demoralizing it is. How scary it becomes going to the doctor. How you can internalize the idea that you're just imagining things, making a big deal out of nothing.

Now that I'm visibly a man, all of my doctors are suddenly very concerned about the fact that I've been simply living like this for nearly four decades with no help. And I know how many women will have to go their whole lives never getting that help simply because of sexism in the medical field.

If you know a doctor, show them this story. Even if they are female. Even if they consider themselves leftists and feminists and allies. Ask them to really, truly, deep down, consider whether they really treat their male and female patients the same. Suggest that the next time they hear a valid complaint from a male patient, imagine they were a woman and consider whether you'd take it seriously. The next time they hear a frivolous-sounding complaint from a female patient, imagine they were a man and consider whether it would sound more credible.

It's hard to unlearn these biases. But it simply has to be done. I've lived both sides of this issue. And every doctor insists they treat their male and female patients the same. But some of the doctors astonished that I didn't get better care in the past are the same doctors who dismissed me before.

I'm glad I'm getting the care I need, even if it is several decades late. And I'm angry that it took so long. And I'm furious that most female-presenting people will never have this chance.

[ddarker-dreams]

Better The Devil You Know.

Yandere Chrollo x Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, discussions of past minor character death, and descriptions of anxiety. Word count: 2.6k.

You awake to cold sheets and damp cheeks. 

It isn’t a peaceful transition into consciousness. You fight for each breath, a losing battle that swaddles your mind in thick fog. The vapors thin out as time drags along. It doesn’t dissipate in its entirety, preferring to linger and prolong your disorientation. 

You wipe at your face with your wrists, ignoring the sting accompanying the action. Hesitatingly, you appraise it in a ray of moonlight that snuck past the blinds. It’s clear, not crimson and thick. A normal product of a healthy body. You should feel relieved, you think. Every organ is as it should be. Your brain remains in your cranium, your lungs expand and contract, and your heart pumps, albeit at an alarming speed. 

It’s better than the chill of encroaching death. 

… 

You are alive, aren’t you? 

This question prompts an investigation. 

Nothing hurts. Your throat, maybe, but that’s a minor ache spurred from thirst. Your skin is warm and clammy. Peeling the comforter off, you squint, assessing your body’s condition. Weary eyes take in everything. Your socks, the lace trimming of your nightgown, its diaphanous midriff, then your chest. Everything appears in order.  

Would your incorporeal form accurately reflect your physical body? 

You shake your head. 

This can’t be heaven — no pantheon would be cruel enough to set the stage of your paradise with props from your captivity. 

It can’t be hell either. If it were, you wouldn’t be alone right now.

You blink.

You’re alone? 

Chrollo’s side of the bed is notably empty. He must’ve got up in a hurry, the sheets are in disarray. The adjoining restroom is dark and unoccupied, confirming he must be elsewhere. Your stomach churns. Determined to do away with this creeping anxiety, you get up, padding across the hardwood floor. 

The night gifts shivers and goosebumps. Wishing to ward off its unwanted advances, you wrap your arms around yourself. You pass through the door that connects to the common area. Although it’s dimly lit, you can tell he isn’t here. The attached balcony is similarly uninhabited. A quick foray into the study confirms your status; you’re truly by yourself. 

What should be a triumph or a relief delivers nothing but dread. 

You return to the common room to assess the situation. 

You’ve never been left alone before. Not without him telling you in advance, normally with a rough estimate of when he’ll return. There’s no way an important detail like that would slip your mind. At a loss, you dredge through your memories for some sign you may have missed. His voice pierces through your head like an arrow. You wince but ignore your body’s displeasure at anything associated with him. The unintelligible noises sharpen, forming consonants and vowels. 

The thrum of the air conditioner eases away. 

You’re left in absolute silence, until Chrollo’s voice fades away, replaced by another.

“... She was five or six, I think. Right around the age where you start losing baby teeth. There’d been this game she wanted and, y’know, kids aren’t rolling in cash. So she figured, what better way to pay for it than through the tooth fairy? I caught ‘er with my wrench, determined as anything, ready to speed up the process. It ended up being a little inside joke between us.”

Your lower lip trembles. 

“... That’s how she ended up getting identified. Her teeth, I mean. Wasn’t anything else left to go off of. I couldn’t wrap my brain around it. A whole life she lived, sometimes getting into trouble, but mostly helping others outta theirs. And to have that— all that— reduced to just… just a couple, couple fuckin’— teeth? What kinda joke is that?”

You fill a glass with water until it overflows.  

“Hey, tell me. Has that fucker ever mentioned ‘er? … Probably not, right? Probably never knew she existed in the first place.” 

Head thrown back, you gulp down the liquid, fighting the lump that longs to form in your throat. 

“Who knows? Maybe I’m the one in the wrong ‘ere. Hell, you don’t look much older than her yourself. I don’t— don’t wanna hurt ya. But…” 

Tears prick the corner of your eyes. 

“There’s no other way to hurt him.” 

Someone’s beside you.

You can hear their voice, though it sounds like it’s coming from miles away, carried over by the wind. Warmth sears your bare shoulders. You smell the faint aroma of sandalwood and amber. It’s distinct, this cologne that serves as an ill-omen better than any blackbird or cracked mirror. You couldn’t scrub it from your memory if you tried. That, or the scent of old books, leather, coffee, and red wine. 

You dig your nails into something — fabric, perhaps — but nothing grounds you. It’s like you’ve been transported outside of space and time. Existing, yet far from alive. Your stomach falls while your head floats away. Up, up, up, lifting you higher and higher. From this impossible vantage point, you sway, your limbs gleefully ignoring every attempt to regain control. 

And there it is again. Your name echoes throughout the atmosphere, beckoning you to acknowledge the sound’s source. 

Maybe you should.

Even if you’ll come to regret it. 

When you first met Chrollo, his eyes stood out the most, like the universe itself deemed them worthy of veneration. You found the gray depths captivating. The undertone varied, you never could ascertain if they were a cool or warm shade. All you knew was that once they found you, they boasted a vitality siphoned at the expense of your own. 

Presently, they can’t. Their unwitting host has been exsanguinated. 

“Where were—” You silence yourself, aghast by the implication. 

You’d sought him out. So desperate for an anchor, you would’ve latched onto the culprit behind your drowning. There’s no doubt he’d find some twisted satisfaction in the accidental admission. You shrink away, but the solid counter presses against your spine, halting your retreat. He doesn’t advance, you’d barely created any distance. 

“There’d been something that required my immediate attention,” Chrollo answers your unfinished question. There’s no thinly veiled derision or curiosity in his voice. You miss the familiarity. “Does anything hurt?” 

It’s then that you recall your predicament. 

You’re on the kitchen floor, surrounded by scintillating shards of glass. A pool of water gathers to your right. Chrollo’s bent down before you, wearing a heavy coat and a tint of pink on his nose. He must’ve come from outside. He stares unblinkingly, awaiting your verdict, which you deliver by shaking your head. There’s a dull ache in your tailbone but you keep that to yourself. It’s awkward enough that he found you in this state. 

You’re sitting on the floor with one leg extended and the other bent at the knee, allowing your short nightgown to ride up. The compromising position stokes your embarrassment. You shuffle around to maintain some dignity. In doing so, you forget the pointed glass strewn about. Before you make contact, you’re hoisted up. Chrollo foresees your struggle and holds you tight enough to thwart its success. 

“You’re alright,” he reassures, his sincere gentleness unbecoming. "Everything's alright."

He places you down on the closest couch and sits beside you. While you regain your bearings, he shrugs off his jacket, then drapes it around your trembling form. His scent and warmth flood your senses. You consider throwing it off out of spite, only to decide against it. You’d be the one to suffer the most. Chrollo remains unusually silent as you cocoon yourself in the thick wool jacket. It’s big on you, but not big enough to swallow you whole like you’d prefer. 

“Should I grab your propranolol?” 

Another head shake.

“Will you tell me what happened?” Foreseeing your tepid response, he adds, “Verbally?” 

You clear your throat as quietly as you can. “I got thirsty.” 

“Hm.” 

You both know he isn’t convinced. It’d be easy for him to poke and prod until you revealed everything — intentionally or not — but his lips remain in a thin line. You shuffle in your seat. The fabric brushes against your wrists, eliciting a sharp inhale. The burn is short-lived yet the memories associated with it rage on. 

“... Chrollo?” 

He blinks, likely unused to the sound of his name on your lips. “Yes, love?” 

“If that man killed me, would it have hurt you?” 

A shadow falls over his visage, like a waxing crescent transitioning to a new moon. When you shiver, it isn’t from the cold. Dark hair frames a far darker expression. His eyes narrow as if he’s trying to see you better, beyond your flesh, at the crux of your soul. You await whatever comes next, returning his stare with equal intensity. 

Finally, he slowly replies, “Yes, it would’ve.” 

“Then why was it so easy for you to kill his daughter?” You ask, the words weighing heavily upon you. “You might’ve liked her, if you’d gotten to know her.” 

The man revealed enough for you to feel like you knew her. Lana Ellis — a woman with an iron will, sharp tongue, and golden heart. She’d recently been hired to work as a waitress at a business that catered high-end events. Galas, celebrity birthdays and weddings, those sorts of things. It wasn’t going to be a permanent arrangement. Lana planned to ditch the gig after saving up tuition money, where she’d then aim for a doctorate in veterinary medicine. According to him, he’d squandered her college fund after the unexpected death of her mother; his childhood sweetheart. He said he’d never forgive himself or the Troupe. 

“She wasn’t s’posed to have been there,” he wheezed. “She never should’ve been there…!” 

Chrollo shuts his eyes. “What are you getting at, dear?” 

His words come out light, though they’re anything but. 

“She could’ve been me.” 

“Yet she wasn’t.” 

“But—!” Your voice cracks, so you take a deep breath and try again. “You… you deprive the world of people you could’ve come to like, be friends with, whatever! All for stuff you eventually do away with. How is that… how can you…” 

Righteous anger suits you. It's a sword and shield that requires no skill to wield, reaching for the instruments have become second nature. Their effectiveness doesn't matter so long as you can hold onto something.

“You don’t need to understand.” 

This isn't a parry or pivot, he's disarmed you.

“Huh?” 

“Yes… if anything, it’s best if you don’t,” he mutters, more to himself than you. His eyes find yours again. “I can’t make sense of your empathy any more than you can grasp my lack of it. If I could, you’d no longer be yourself. Your self-limiting, bleeding heart should remain as is. It’s the one part of you I’ll leave untouched.” 

You don’t know what you were expecting. 

You slump back into your seat. “... Don’t you think you’re overestimating yourself?” 

“Hardly,” he replies. Then, in a softer voice, “You torment yourself, love. This—” 

He rests his hand over your heart.

“—Hurts you more than anything I’ve ever done. Yet you believe it unthinkable I’d do away with such an inconvenience.” 

“So you’re a coward,” you mumble. The insult is uninspired but it suits your purposes. “You can’t handle it, so you took the easy way out.” 

“Rationalize it anyway you'd like.” 

Chrollo reaches for your forearm and coaxes it into view. His fingers brush along your wrists, where the man’s restraints left rope burn behind. The irritated skin is slowly recovering. The deeper wounds, those without a cure, will linger after the surface heals. They’re etched into your bones. 

“Isn’t going against your morals worse than having none?" Chrollo queries. “That girl’s father knew you had no involvement in his daughter’s death. You’re an unwilling third party, same as she was. And he was ready to hurt you regardless."

Your mouth feels dry. “He didn't hurt me—” 

Chrollo raises an eyebrow, causing head to flood your cheeks.

“—All... that... much. I don’t think he was going to...?” 

“No, not until he was intoxicated enough to stomach it,” Chrollo retorts. “We’ll never know for certain, darling. Thankfully, I interrupted before it could get to that point."

That point, that point, that point...

What could that man have done to you?

Chrollo appraises you like he's yet to decide on something.

After a moment passes, he leans in, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. Your muscles stiffen as he pulls you close. He exerts none of the force you know him to be capable of. The gesture's languid nature gives the impression you could wriggle free if you tried. You don't test this theory. Chrollo's mood seems pensive, not amorous, hence your hesitant compliance.

He speaks your name. Then, he asks, "What's really bothering you?"

Biting your lip, you turn your head away from him.

He doesn't relent. "You can tell me anything, you know."

If you weren't so utterly exhausted, you might've laughed.

"You wouldn't be my first choice for a heart-to-heart."

"How about your second?"

You look at him like he's just suggested the world is flat. He smiles softly, allowing you time to think.

It's weird.

This is weird.

The lack of verbal finesse, designed to extract any emotion or confession he desires. You're used to his cunning, his depravity, his unfiltered self. You've come to expect it, as one would the sunrise and sunset. Briefly, you search for it. The expedition is futile. His normal tells are gone.

Truly, you could almost forget the imbalanced nature of this dynamic and pretend it's normal.

It isn't, however.

So you'll need to keep your wits about you.

"Could... er..." you trail off, uncertain of the best parlance, "Will something like that... happen... again...?"

The claustrophobia of being shut in a trunk. Blindfolded, hands and feet bound, gagged by a rag. Terrified and sobbing. Unable to breathe, unable to scream.

You feel as small now as you did then.

The man told you his reasoning. It tugged on your heart. Wringed the organ for everything it was worth. He deserved justice. He deserved revenge. At that lone instance, the playing field was even. The immeasurable gap in strength between him and the Phantom Troupe's boss meant nothing if Chrollo wasn't physically present. There was a chance for this bereaved father to return the pain unfairly inflicted on him.

But why on you?

Why do you have to be cast into hell for the sins of another?

And why was it so tempting to forgive the devil's transgressions against you, if he provided salvation just this once?

You don't know when you began shaking, but you do know it won't be easy to stop.

"You must've been scared," he murmurs.

This observation makes your throat feel impossibly tight, as if a serpent coiled around your neck. His eyelashes flutter shut and he rests his forehead against yours. He contents himself on breathing in your air while you wrestle with the odd intimacy of it all; this simplicity untainted by needling or provocations.

"I never make the same mistake twice," Chrollo eventually says. "In light of recent events, I've made it clear that you are off limits. Those who still wish to try their luck, well..."

The air itself writhes like a malicious entity. The sensation is brief, but the impression lingers, chilling you on a primordial level. You're reminded that his control, while impressive, isn't flawless. Every surface can fissure, allowing the noxious contents contained within to break free. This concentration of ill-intent isn't even focused at you. To be on the receiving end must be to face the inevitably of death.

"... They can be made examples of too."

Curiosity nips at your heels, demanding satiation.

Your part your lips.

Then his eyes reopen. They're dull, lacking any illumination, like light itself felt the urge to flee.

It's an understandable sentiment.

For that reason, you decide some questions are better left unanswered.

[gunilslaugh]

i was watching xdiz with jaejoong and I NEED a fic with Jooyeon teaching reader how to play the bass and i know u can turn this idea into an amazing fic 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

Here you go! This turned out longer than expected but I had so much fun writing it!!

Lee Jooyeon Summary: Jooyeon teaches you to play the bass and both of you too can feel the tension. (idol/non-idol au) WC:~1.3k Warning:none

photo not mine credits to owner.

“You make playing the bass look so cool,” you say. Jooyeon and you are both sitting on the floor of his bedroom. He’s strumming away on his bass, showing you a new song. His long hair flows in his face. His pick strumming against the strings, sitting between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Because I am cool,” he remarked. You let out a light scoff, shaking your head. “What? You don’t think I’m cool?” he challenged. 

“Mmm I think…you’re Jooyeon,” you respond. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, setting his bass aside. 

“You’re cool when you’re playing the bass, but once you set it down, you’re kinda a dork,” you said. 

“Aye, at least I know how to play the bass. That makes me cooler than you at least,” he argued. 

“Teach me to play the bass then,” you told him. 

“Do you really want to learn or you’re just trying to be cooler than me?” He gave you a skeptical look that evokes a laugh out of you. 

“I do actually want to learn. I’ve kinda thought about it for a while. I just don’t think that I’d be that good at it,” you truthfully reply. 

“Don’t doubt yourself before you’ve even tried. Come on.” He picked up his bass, motioning for you to come over. You slide over next to him and he places his bass in your arms. Looping the strap over your head and helping you hold it properly. 

“Place your fingers here.” He comes around behind you, using his hand to guide yours to the strings. “Press down,” he tells you. However you’re having trouble focusing on his words due to how close he is. When you brought up him teaching you, you didn’t take into account that he would be so close. 

“And now use this hand to strum.” His other arm cases around you. Sending a shiver down your spine. He’s essentially back hugging you now. One hand holding yours at the neck of the bass, showing you how to press the strings and the other guiding your hand on how to strum. You can smell his cologne. You recognize it as the one you got him for his birthday last year.

“Are you listening?” His voice rang through your ears, gaining your attention back. 

“I-” You turn your head to the side. He was so close, too close. Your noses only millimeters apart. “I-I mean what chord did you say this was?” You turn your head back to look at the bass again. Your pounding heart wanted you to run away, but you had nowhere to go. Trap between his bass and his body. 

Jooyeon smiles seeing you flustered. Though he’s not really doing any better. The feeling of your body so close to his. The tingles he feels rushing through his fingers with every touch and brush of them against yours. How if he pressed his chest against your back you would probably be able to feel his heart beat. Not to mention that mere seconds ago if he just leaned in a tiny bit more his lips could have been on yours. It all had his head spinning. It was hard enough for him to remember how to play the bass right now. 

“E, this is an E chord.” He pressed his fingers against yours once more, igniting more sparks under his skin. You really were trying your best to listen, but seemed like all you could focus on was how close he was. 

“Jooyeon.” You turn your head to the side again, which once more proved to me a mistake as Jooyeon turned his head too. Once more your faces are entirely too close together. It makes your head feel like a fog. 

“Yeah?” he asked. 

“I-is..is this really the best way to…” Was it really so hard to form a sentence? Apparently it was as you felt like your brain short circuited. Though a bigger question arising in your head was, since when did you like Jooyeon this much? Since when did he have such an effect over you? 

Maybe you always had a bit of a crush on him. It was nothing major though. Just a small heart flutter when you first see him or maybe your heart rate picked up a bit when he was affectionate with you. Maybe you looked forward to seeing him more than your other friends and maybe you didn’t rest your head on their shoulders like you did with Jooyeon. Maybe you don’t like socializing after 10pm, but if it’s Jooyeon then it’s fine. In fact there’s a chance you slept better on the nights you fell asleep while talking on the phone with him. Ok, maybe you spend too much time picking out gifts for him when he’s “just a friend”. You know what sure there was that one dream you had where you two kissed, but that was just a dream. Dreams don’t have to mean anything, they can just be weird dreams. Except maybe you wanted that dream to be real. So, maybe you liked Jooyeon this much for a while and maybe he’s always had this effect on you. 

Even though you couldn’t complete your sentence Jooyeon knows what you were trying to say. Was this really the best way for him to teach you how to play the bass? Truthfully he could have just sat criss-cross in front of you. He would still have to lean in close to show you properly, but no, he didn’t need to be this close. He didn’t have to be holding you in his arms, but wanted to. Because Jooyeon liked you. He’s not entirely sure when he fell for you. Maybe when you bandaged his fingers after a long practice where he forgot his pick. It could have been when you picked out the vegetables from his order at a restaurant. He didn’t even complain about the vegetables either, he didn’t have time to. Right when the waiter walked away you were already plucking the vegetables from his bowl. Mayhaps his heart started beating to the rhythm of a love song from the moment he first saw you. He knows the moment he realized he liked you though. He just got home from a concert. It was late and he was exhausted, yet he could only think about calling you. It was while he was on call with you that realized. He didn’t think he would have been able to sleep without calling you. Because it seems that he could only find restful sleep when he called with you. Because you made him feel at peace and calm. Because he liked you. 

“Even if it’s not, it’s the way I want to,” he told you. The air around you both feels heavy. There’s an obvious tension lingering in it. You want to say something, but you’re unable to form any words. “Because I want to hold you. I like having you close like this.” He kept speaking instead. Almost as if to prove his point he brushes his nose against yours. 

“Jooyeon,” you finally speak. 

“Yeah.” He now rests his forehead against yours.

“I’m never gonna learn the bass like this.” Your eyes flicker down to his lips. A smile pulls at his lips as he notices the change in your eyes.  

“Maybe I don’t want you to,” he says, leaning in a bit closer.

“Huh?” Your eyes shift back to his. 

“Maybe I just want to be your cool bass playing boyfriend.” Now his eyes are the ones shifting to your lips. “Can I?” He looks back into your eyes.

“Yeah,” you breathe out with an imperceivable nod. Jooyeon smiles before leaning in to close the very slight remaining distance between you two. His lips pressing against yours. Playing a love song on your heartstrings. 

The two of you break away due to smiling too much. Jooyeon helps lift the bass off of your lap, carefully setting it down beside you two, so that he can now fully trap you in his arms. You suppose you can always learn to play the bass some other time. Feeling all too content with being wrapped up in Jooyeon’s arms. Your cool bass playing boyfriend’s arms.

taglist: @purplelady85 @gingerjunhan @chewednails @ezlynkisses @mon2sunjinsuver @mxlly143 @seungseung-minmin @junhanism

comment or message me to be added!

[godmadeaterribleerror]

I've Never Been Higher

Main Masterlist - Soldier Boy Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, established realtionship, the tiniest amount of fluff and angst, just pure, raw smut (fingering, p in v sex, choking)

Summary/Warnings: Request from an anon! After you get drunk and expose your secret relationship with Ben, you know there will be consequences. Good thing they seem to be the fun kind.

Author's Note: I'm putting this one in the 60s-ish. It is very horny. Enjoy!

Word Count: 5k

This is a disaster. 

You barely drink. It takes half a bar to get you drunk at all. You rarely have the patience or time to get to buzzed, let alone wasted. 

Stumbling and tripping over your heels and words, the world is vibrant and bright but also a little hazy—like watching it through a thin, shimmering layer of fog—and loose-lipped, giggly, wasted.

Curled up in a booth with your normal, non-supe friends and whispering about nothing wasted. The room is spinning and turning but you’re too engrossed in how funny the word squirrels sounds wasted. One of your friends always keeping a hand on your shoulder, or an arm around your body, because one wrong ditzy smile or mention of him, and you’ll start to float upwards fucking wasted.

And they know that.

And you’d been really drunk. It was the weekend, and it was a celebration of something—you didn’t really remember what—and you’d been so fucking drunk, so when one of your friends asked how’s Ben with a teasing grin, you’d almost ascended just from the sound of his name.

You think you said he was perfect. Actually, you know you said he was perfect. Despite the entire night being hidden behind a shifting curtain of your drunken brain, you know exactly what you’d said about Ben, word for word.

Because it’s printed on the front page of the news. A massive quote of Soldier Boy settles down with B-list Hero? In big, black letters, accompanied by a very handsome picture of Ben, and a smaller, poorly lit photo of you. 

An inside source tells us that, last night in uptown Manhattan, Vought’s own second list super-heroine Hurricane revealed that she and Soldier Boy have been going steady for over a year, and proved herself to be quite smitten with American’s Son. 

You’d always hated that title for him. Ben was not America’s Son. He was more in line with America’s very grumpy father, and you were not a second list hero. You had the third highest save rate, and you’d only been at Vought for two years. You’d caught up with everyone in the first three months, and surpassed the rest by the end of the summer. You’d been warring back and forth with Liberty—the snide, conniving, weirdly possessive over Ben and hateful bitch—for second place for about a year now.

If fact, if you counted non-criminal saves—aiding people with their daily troubles, helping people who were in crisis, offering aid to charities and foundations—you were only a dozen or so behind Ben.

He says that’s why he noticed you. He says he’d seen how close you were creeping up behind him after only a year, how fast the gap between him and second place was closing, and he’d been furious but intrigued. Then he’d always say that he went to find you to snap that you should calm the fuck down and stop acting like you own this place, but you’d been so damn beautiful he’d forgotten how to breathe. 

“I’d known you’d be mine right fucking there.” He’d grumble, his lips latched to your neck and his arms caging you against the wall. “I see a lot of hot fucking women, baby, but you’re the only one who’s made me look twice.”

You’d always giggle, run your hands through his hair, and try not smile like too much of an idiot into the air. “You know, you can’t be positive I didn’t just steal the air out of your lung on-“

Ben would swallow your words with a deep, rough kiss, shove his knee between your thighs, and chuckle at your high whine.

“I’m real damn sure,” he’d grunt your name, guiding you to grind against him as he spoke. “Because that shit doesn’t work on me, doll, and you fucking know it.”

“I-“ You’d gasp, pulling at his hair and squirming in his grip. “You’re getting cocky again-“

“You fucking love it.”

God, you did. You loved him. He’s full of shit, and you know he’s full of shit—he hadn’t been awestruck by you, he’d marched up to you, told you that you were a fucking problem, and then walked away—but you don’t love him any less for it. If anything, you love him more. He’s honest. You’ve never seen him be anything but himself, and it was a little like a sanctuary. Ben would tell you if you were being dramatic about something if you were in the wrong, or he’d threaten to chop off the balls of whoever had hurt you with such a violent fervor in his eyes if he knew you were right.

You feel bad a little for whoever one day pisses you off enough to let Ben loose on them. 

He’d make sure your ideas were heard and implemented, when nobody was listening to you, then point at you when someone congratulated him on it and snap it was her fucking idea, you pussy-faced cock gobbler. Thank the lady then keep fucking working.

He’d bring you silent gifts every time he stepped over the threshold of your apartment. He’d fuck you like an animal in your bedroom, then hold you in the dark like you were something priceless. He’d put a hand on your thigh under the table, when meetings got too heated and you were in danger of quite literally flying at some dumbass who thought he was smarter than you.

And he did keep you secret, but you’d never protested. It had been your idea to begin with, and maybe you’d expected him to one day grunt at you that this dumb fucking secret shit is over, you’re my date to the movie tomorrow night, but he never had.

You’d go to all the red carpets separately, he’d track you down in the bathroom and fuck you on the sink—muttering low, dirty praise about how good you were taking him, how everyone was going to be able to fucking smell his cum filling you up, how you looked so fucking gorgeous in that dress and you were trying to damn kill him—before you parted ways and acted like co-workers for the rest of the night, right up until he showed up at your apartment as the after party settled down.

And you could’ve had him like that for a million years. If it was all he could give you, you’d take it and worship it and never try to make him more than he was. He was already, arguably, too much. But he was yours. He didn’t fuck other women—he hardly even looked at them—and it had never mattered what the vultures of the press said, you’d known Ben was yours, and that was all that mattered.

But now you’re staring at the paper, re-reading the article over and over like the words could suddenly change and nothing would be wrong, and for the first time, you’re afraid.

Not of Ben. Never of Ben. 

Of how you’re going to lose him. 

Because you’d been explicit. Vulgar. Incredibly detailed in ways you never were while sober.

Hurricane described in great deal her alleged sex life with the Golden Hero, claiming him to be a firm but generous lover, using a multitude of words not suited for publication. Our source details how she’d claimed that she reaches climax about “four times a night,” and that she wants to “marry his and have all his stupid, giant babies.” Multiple times throughout the conversation, Hurricane called Solider Boy the “best thing that ever happened to her,” and said she’d “jump off a cliff if he asked her to.”

If these claims are true, should the public prepare for an upcoming great American wedding? Or is Hurricane speaking of a one-sided obsession? Solider Boy has rarely been seen in public with the air-powered supe, and there is no evidence but her alleged word that they are anything more than co-workers. If Hurricane is lying-

You have to stop reading there, or you might choke on your own spit and fear. You’re not lying. It’s not alleged, it’s real and you meant every word of it, but Ben wasn’t supposed to know that. He was supposed to take the lead about where you went, and you were supposed to trail in his wake, admiring the way his skin seemed to sometimes be golden, and bask in how when he looked at you there seemed be something flaring and catching light in his eyes that was never there for anyone else.

You mean something to him. You know he sees you as more than a body. Ben calls you his girl, and his jaw twitches when a Vought suit or lower-level hero tries to flirt with you, and he has all the money in the world but he touches you like you’re the most valuable thing in his life.

You’re not sure how you’re going to face this. You have to face this—it’s the front fucking page, and it’s a mess, and you’re solely responsible—but you don’t want to. You want to fly up to space and never come down, or sink into the floor, or seal all the doors and windows and never leave.

And you know none of that would work. Ben would launch himself after you and you’d slam into his gravity because you didn’t know how not to. He’d pull you up from your self-inflicted grave without breaking a sweat. He’d kick and pry the doors open no matter how tight you sealed them, crashing into your apartment with an animalistic look in his eyes, his arms flexing and attention all on you, before picking you up and cradling you without a word because he was bad at them, but he did care. 

Ben really did care.

And you can’t face him.

But you have to go to work.

And you hope you’ll just vanish off the face of the earth before you can enter the building, but the universe doesn’t seem to like you all that much today, so instead you’re barely a foot through the door before Legend his standing in front of you, brows raised and voice firm.

“Hurricane.”

“I, uh,” You swallow. “Yeah. Hi.”

His face doesn’t even move an inch. “I believe we need to talk, girl.”

“Do we?” Your voice is barely a squeak, and you really wish everyone would stop fucking looking at you. “I don’t- um- Look, I swear I didn’t-“

“My office.” Legend snaps. “Now.”

All you can do is nod and shuffle behind him, feeling a little like a child in trouble. You can feel all their eyes, almost hear the judgmental expressions and thoughts, the bitter and withering fears you’d been harboring in your chest since Ben asked you out—although it was more like he said you were smoking hot and he wanted to fuck you, you’d told him he’d need to try harder than that, and then the next day he’d shown up with more roses than you could hold in your hands and said you were hot, and interesting, and he wanted to fuck you put he wasn’t going to do it until you were begging him for it—coming to life in a loud and suffocating cloud around you.

You know he’s out of your league. Ben’s out of everyone’s league. He’s more than a god, he’s something primordial that crawled out of the earth just to guard it with his whole fucking existence.

And when you sit in Legend’s office, it feels even more certain that this is the end of more than just the love of your life. It’s so drastic, how much higher and better Ben is than you are, that there’s no way they’ll allow you to just say he’s yours. The public would never want him to be yours, because they can see it too. Everyone can see how unworthy you are-

“You get three minute to explain yourself.” Legend mutters, settling in his big, velvet chair, spinning a pen in his hands.  “But you better have a top of the line reason for fucking around and claimin’ all that, or we’re going to be revisiting your tenure here. Go.”

Every breath you take is thin in your lungs. You need to speak, but no words are coming out. His chair is a throne, and the pen is an executioner’s axe, and you whole life is on a thread that depends on you speaking, but you can’t-

“I-“

There’s a crashing sound outside, a roar that sound like a lion or dragon or avenging angel, and Legend looks away from you with a shocked expression—which for him, means genuine interest flashing in his gaze and a twitch near his eyes—as Ben crashes through the door.

“Mr. Solider Boy, sir-“ Legend’s receptionist is scrambling behind him, her voice high and frantic. “You- He’s in a meeting- You’re not supposed-“

“Shut the fuck up, Mary.” Ben grunts, and the receptionist’s snaps closed. You mouth think she’s shocked he knows her name. “And close the damn door, Legend and I need to have a fucking chat.”

You swallow, starting to push to your feet, but Ben’s faster. His hands grasp your shoulders, pushing you back down into your chair, and they rest there as he glowers at Legend.

“Ben,” Legend sighs. “I told you we’d be meeting later-“

“And I told you there’s no way you’re talking to my girl without me there,” Ben hisses, his hands squeezing on your shoulders, and you’re a little dizzy.

His girl. 

Not a secret, but still Ben’s girl.

And suddenly nothing really feels all that faraway or terrifying at all. 

“I understand this is distressing for all of us-“

“Oh, fuck off and eat my fucking ass,” Ben rolls his eyes, leaning slightly over your body as he leers at Legend. He’s really warm. “You don’t know what in goddamn Christ you’re talking about, Legend, and you’re being a pussy fucking idiot-“

“Ben-“

“I said fuck off.” He growls your name, and it’s not at you. It’s like a wolf snarling and snapping at a threat to their pack. “She didn’t do a goddamn thing wrong, and you’re going to make her give herself a fucking aneurysm, so calm the fuck down and listen when I tell you to just fucking drop it, or I’ll carve your brain out of your skull and fucking feed it to you.”

Legend doesn’t flinch. He only tilts his head, scanning over Ben with an odd expression. “What have you been offered, Solider Boy, to defend her-“

Ben scoffs. “I can’t be fucking bribed, you dick-headed asswhore, I goddamn love this woman-“

It hits you like a freight train. Explosive and fast and brutal, irreversibly changing everything in your body until it all just a crumpled pile of Ben.

“You-“ Your voice is hoarse, and you lean back to look at him with wide eyes. “You love me?“

“Of course I fucking love you, shut up and-“ he grabs your hand, pinning it to the chair. The world had gotten so light, and you’d started to float, and Ben was keeping you there. With him. And he loved you. “Don’t lose your damn mind. Let me save your fucking job-“

“I love you too,” you whisper, and that manages to air its way through his fury.

“I know that. Stop flying.” Ben turns back to Legend, and you think he’s somehow taller. “You fire her, you lose me.” 

That makes Legend’s face twitch again, and his eyes dart to you for only a second. You’ve seen that expression before, during meetings or negotiations that weren’t quite going his way.

He weighing his options. Trying to work out if Ben is bluffing.

Legend should know better.

Ben doesn’t bluff.

His hand still squeezing with carefully measured pressure on your shoulder, and his gaze is firm, and he’s not a liar. Ben has many, many vices—fractured and chipped and defunct parts of him you love just as much as the shining titanium that makes up the rest of him—but lying is not one of them.

If anything, Ben only ever doubles down.

“Don’t be a damn idiot,” he drawls, his words casual but his gaze on Legend a silent promise of violence. “The people fucking love it. They love her. She scores higher points with younger demos, and America loves love. They’ll love us. so I don’t know why you’re being such a pussy-brained motherfucker, but she is the best goddamn thing to happen to this company in fucking years.”

You think you’re going to ascend. That all the dizzying light and joy that Ben always silently plants in your body is going into bloom and rocketing up to the sun with his every word, and you have no choice but to rise up to that high, clouded but bright heaven with them. It’s a place born of Ben’s love. It hazy, pastel clouds, but they’re sturdier and more certain than anything else has ever been. You could build something here, known it would never crumble because Ben really, truly loves you. Even Legend’s skeptical expression and cool words can’t drag you down from down this.

And what they trigger only launches you further upwards. 

“They’ll have to actually believe it,” Legend snips. “If we are going to allow this-“ 

Ben’s hand glide over your throat to grab your chin, he tips your head back, and kisses you. Deep and rough and heavy. The type of kiss he’s only ever given you behind a locked door, where he’s folding himself over you and invading your every sense, because now you’re pliant and moaning, and everything is Ben. Reaching up to try and tug on his hair and urge him further, grabbing his forearm for balance despite sitting down, making a strangled sound that’s meant to be his name when he presses his tongue down your throat-

He pulls back, presses a smaller, dangerously sweet kiss to your brow, and looks back to Legend. 

“That fucking believable enough?” 

You’d like to see Legend’s expression, but your gaze is trapped on Ben. His hand is still on your chin, grip relaxed as his thumb trails over your lower lip—you’re not sure he knows he’s doing that—and you can see the exact place on his jaw that you want to try and suck a mark on, even if it’s never worked before. His brows are raised in a challenging question as he stares down Legend, and his hair looks soft, and when he licks his lips slightly it sets off a million little sparks in your lower stomach-

“Ben.” You whisper, and he looks down at you with a frown. 

“Wha-“

“Please.” You squeeze his arm, and he tenses behind you. “I- Please.”

A smirk creeps over his lips, and you think someone coughs, but they’re not Ben so it doesn’t really matter. 

“You need me right now, sweet girl? Can’t even fucking wait, need me to fucking ruin you in the goddamn office-“

“I- You-” you squirm in your chair, reaching up to try and tug him back down to your level. “Stop being mean-“

He chuckles, but doesn’t move an inch. “You know I’m not being mean. You’ve seen me be fucking mean,” he drawls your name, and if he doesn’t move soon, you’re going to explode. “I’m just waiting for you to beg me fucking properly-“

“Please, Ben, please-“

“Please what.”

You’re past dignity, or trying to spar back and forth with him on this. He said he loves you. He said it, then kissed you like that, and nothing in the world is more important than feeling him all around you and over you and in you-

“Fuck me, Ben, please-“

There’s that same cough again, but you don’t really hear it. You can’t really hear anything but your heartbeat in your ears as Ben’s face splits into a wide, almost feral grin, and you won.

He slams his mouth back down to yours, grabbing you by the waist in a second and hauling you up to his chest—your legs wrapped around his torso as you shamelessly grind onto his stomach—and holding you there as his kiss turns starved and brutal, like he hasn’t done this almost every night for the past year.

You’re not complaining. With just his mouth almost molded into yours, one hand fisted in your hair while the other holds you steady against his body, and grunts that you can feel vibrate in his chest, you’re wrecked and whimpering in his arms. You need more. He’s everywhere but it’s not enough, and you’re aching and burning under his touch but it’s not enough-

Ben breaks the kiss when you start to scratch at his shoulders, and you take a ragged, sudden breath. You’d forgotten you needed to breathe, and the rush of air is sending you so high-

He starts to attack your neck and shoulders, tugging at your supe costume to continue his dizzying assault on your skin, and you wrap your arms around his neck in desperate attempt to not fly out of his hold. Ben’s own grip tightens in response—he knows how close you are, just from his kiss and touch, he always knows so you so well—and you squeak his name when he bites at your neck-

“Alright. I got it.” Someone’s talking that’s not Ben. Legend. You’d forgotten he existed at all. “It’s not fake, you’ll be dating, fine. You two can stop now-“

“Get out of my office.” Ben grunts, and Legend sighs.

“We’ve been over this, Soldier Boy, it’s not your-“

Ben pushes you down on the desk, rips off your shirt, starts to kiss over your breast with a possessive growl that sends a shiver up your spine, and Legend groans.

“Fine.” You’re vaguely aware of something shuffling around, but Ben’s rubbing a thumb over your nipples through your bra, and you’re incredibly focused on just holding on. “No messes.”

Neither of you make any promises, and you don’t think no messes is possible. Not as Ben shoves his hand into your panties the moment the door closes, tearing off your bra and lowering his mouth to suck and bite along your breasts.

“I-“ You gasp, your hands shooting to grip at his hair when two rough fingers shove right into your cunt, starting to pump in a smooth, unyielding rhythm. “God, fuck-“

“Say my name, baby,” he grunts, flicking his tongue over a nipple, working you into a frenzy as his fingers bump that deep spot and crook against it- “Say my fucking name and I’ll ruin you like you fucking deserve-“

“Please-“ You squeak as his thumb finds your clit, just pressing as he starts to kiss down your stomach. “Ben, please-“

“There she goes.” Ben nips at your stomach as he lowers himself further, an arm wrapping around your waist to pin you down when the remainder of your clothing is torn from your body and his fingers still, leaving you grinding hopelessly against his hand and gasping for air as a warm breeze picks up in the room. “Want my cock, sweetheart? Going to fucking beg for it like the pretty little slut you are, so fucking needy-“

“I’m-“ You gasp as he bites at your inner thigh, and you can feel his grip tighten again as your hair starts to float around your head. “Just for you, Ben, just need you, please-“

“Such good manners,” he drawls, pressing one, mockingly sweet kiss to your clit as he shoves your knees further apart. “So fucking wet, too. Anyone else get you like this, sweet girl-“

You shake your head, bucking your hips up into the air. “No- Never anyone else, just you-“

“That’s fucking right.” He growls, his thumb pressing to your clit, his breath warm over your cunt. “You’re all fucking mine-“

“Yours,” you gasp. “Ben, please-“

He rises back up, pinching your clit as his mouth crashes back into yours and groaning your name when you writhe against him. 

“Christ on a fucking cross, baby-“

“Ben-“ Your snake your hand between when his body is wrapped over yours, palming at him through his pants. “More, need more-“

“Always fucking give you more,” he grunts, pulling your hair until your head tips further back with a whine. “Need to wait, use those pretty fucking manners-“

He cuts himself off with a groan as the wind starts to tear through the room, and you shove your hand into his pants, wrapping your hand around his dick and stroking it until his hips rut up into you-

Ben catches your wrist, and before you know what’s happening you’re flat on your back, your hands pinned over your head and Ben’s face hovering inches over yours.

“I said fucking wait.” He hisses, and you swallow. “You pull that shit and I’m going to blow all that cum you love so much on your fucking hand. Is that what you want?”

You shake your head, grinding up into where you can feel him, pressed right on your inner thigh.

“Words-“

“No.” Your words are breathy and desperate, and you don’t care. “Ben-“

“What do you want?” His tone is mocking, a smirk pulling at his lips, and God, he’s such an asshole but you fucking love him- 

“You, want you, Ben-“

He hums, dropping the full weight of his hips over yours and chuckling at your high whine when the head of his cock bumps at your clit. “What do you want me to do-“

“Fuck me,” there’s no hesitation in your voice. With Ben, there never is. “Want your cock, Ben, please-“

It’s all he needs. Ben slams into you with one movement, but doesn’t move. He just splits you open beneath his and grins at your dazed expression, the head of him pressed right on that spot and fuck, he needs to move-

“Need a second, pretty girl?”

“I- move-“ You squeeze around him, pride glowing in your chest at the low, rumbling groan it draws from his chest. “Ben-“

He gives one rough thrust, pulling all the way out before slamming back in, and you let out a high, strangled sound of need.

“Say you’re mine.” He growls, repeating the movement, a little faster. “Tell me who fucks you this good, who you fucking love, who makes you a cockdrunk, needy little slut-“

He’s makes another thrust with every demand, and the euphoria of Ben all around and in you is like a truth serum. If you wanted to lie, you couldn’t. 

This feels too fucking good.

“Yours Ben, I’m yours, it’s only you,” you gasp as he bruises against that one spot, his mouth diving down to suck at your neck. “Always you, just you, I love you, please-“

That snaps him. Ben starts to fuck you, really, properly fuck you, your hands still trapped above you and his cock bruising your cervix as he hammers into your dripping cunt, letting your scratch and claw at his broad, muscled back and whine his name as his balls slap on your ass and his free hand plays with your tits until you’re writhing and gasping below him-

“Fucking mine.” He grunts, his thrusts never breaking pace as you hurl towards release. “So fucking desperate for me, baby, nobody’s gonna fuck you like I do, fucking love you, love this pretty fucking pussy, such a good girl for me, squeezing my cock so fucking tight-“

You make a strangled sound that’s supposed to be his name, and Ben swallows it with his mouth over yours.  

“Need to cum in you, baby,” he growls down your throat, his hand gliding your body to rest over your throat. “Need to fucking fill you up, let everyone know you’re fucking mine-“

You nod a little stupidly, a white-hot coil wound so tight in your stomach, so close to snapping-

Ben pushes up off of you, reaching an inhuman, abusing and perfect pace in your cunt, and right as the coil burst like starlight through your body, he squeezes his hand around your throat with just the right amount of pressure to drag the mind-numbing pleasure on and on, letting you ride your orgasm as he roars your name and comes with one last slam of his hips.

He tugs you back to his chest as you both come down, knowing far better than you let your body go when you’re still light-headed and drunk on how warm you feel. Full of Ben and used by him in the best possible way, and he loves you, he’s said it two times now and that’s real.

Ben drags two fingers through your dripping, still fluttering pussy, stuffing his cum back inside of you—a tiny ritual he always seems to do for himself, because you’re on the pill but he always glows with pride after, so you let him indulge—as he kisses over your collarbone, and you bury your face in his neck with an easy hum.

“Are you,” you sigh, clinging to his body like a baby as his rubs firm circles over your back. “Were you serious?”

You can hear the frown in his voice. “I’m always fucking serious-“

“I know, I just mean-“ You sigh, leaning back to scan over his handsome, solid features. “About us. Are we- Is this public now?”

His jaw clenches slightly. “You’re the one who was calling me the best thing that ever happened to you-“

“I- you are, I just want to be sure you’re sure-“

“I’ve been sure since I fucking saw you,” Ben says your name, his voice firm, and you just stare at him. “The secret shit was your idea, and I’d move a fucking mountain for you, so I did it, but it’s always been fucking dumb as shit.”

“Oh.” You swallow, offering him a small smile. “Sorry.”

He rolls his eyes. “Shut up. We’re public, sweetheart, and every single fucking pussy in the world is going to know you’re mine.”

“Good,” you hum, resting your head back on his shoulder. “You’re mine too, you know.”

“I’m damn well aware.” Ben kisses the side of your head, tracing a hand up your spine. “All fucking yours.”

End Note: I never have more fun than coming up with Soldier Boy insults. Channeling all the swearing I can't do at work into this.

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@solsborg

[simonskitty]

cw: mdni, age gap (legal) , male receiving, no aftercare, dubcon mention

Toji is forced to do community service on a local farm, and you happen to be the next door neighbor

Thinking of pervert Toji who got in trouble doing something illegal (most likely stealing from a poor family owned business because this dude has no money) and since it was a small infraction, community service was the price he had to pay for his actions. So now, he’s spending his time working on the towns local farm for the summer. Toji is occupied by the pigs, cows, maybe even the occasional croak of a rooster, as well as you, the adorable little thing who happens to live directly across the street from the pleasant farm, and who crosses the street like a baby chick to assist the old folks that operate the place.

Toji seeing you talk so sweetly and oh so gently to the little animals as if they could understand your every word, the critters scattering around you like you were some kind of disney princess.

It wasn’t until he saw you softly wrap your small, delicate fingers around the bases of the mama cows nipples to milk her, that he fully lost control. Seeing you so meticulously care for the soft tender buds that sat in your palms made something feral ding off in his head like the bell wrapped around the start of the cow’s neck.

He was friendly at first, trying his best not to come on too strong and scare you away. Slowly but surely becoming part of your life whenever you stepped foot into the yard in which he weeded. And soon instead of wrapping your fingers around the nipples of the mama cows, you were wrapping them around Toji’s cock that had been straining against his mud covered overalls all afternoon.

He’d take you by your braided up pigtails and drag you up to the hayloft like you were just a loan piece of straw, throwing you over his sweaty shoulder in the process. Your poor knees covered in soot and wet grass from being dragged around like some old rag doll kept in the attic.

Toji would make your poor shaky hands unclip the straps of his overalls, of course not wearing anything under (cuz he’s a slut haha), cock springing out, hitting your sniffly nose like it was taunting you. Just looking at it seemed like a daunting task to fit all of him in your mouth.

Even though your inexperienced with this, you are in fact experienced with milking the cattle. Just like how you milk the cows, right? Only Toji’s cock is much. . . larger than the cows nipples. You wrap your pretty fingers around his length, taking it slow to try to figure out how the hell you’re gonna do this. But, Toji is an inpatient little fucker. So, his fingers, still dirty from shoveling earlier in the day, grasp into your hair like the tines of pitchfork.

“Open.” It’s a forceful grunt, one that you could barely make out the words. You open your mouth like you were taking orders from a sergeant. Senses overwhelmed immediately when the unfamiliar length is shoved into your mouth. Toji is not trimmed whatsoever. Rough hair from his belly that only gets more unruly when you make it to the eight inches below.

He doesn’t care about the gags that come from deep inside you, or the fact that the back of your throat is probably bruised from the amount of times his tip has hit it. The wetness of your tears hit his thighs which gives him some sick kinda pleasure, scarred lip quirking up as his hand repeatedly yanks you up and down his length.

Overwhelming emotions take over you as the corners of your lips stretch, the thought of chapstick right now seemed almost as pleasurable as an orgasm that you prayed Toji would bring you to in the future. Fog clouds your brain, hands squeezing down on the base of Toji’s cock making his head go back as a deep groan left his body, followed by the intense come that represented the pleasure you had given him.

Lips swollen and bubbling fat tears that sat on the brims of your eyelids as your head his pulled up from him. A well deserved pat to the side of your hip with a praising, “Good girl,” before Toji climbs down from the loft, leaving you to think of what sins you committed that afternoon.

© simonskitty

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Warnings: smut, masterbation, send nudes, quick mention of breeding

Sequel to: Think of Me When You Cum Later

Almost an entire day passed without a word from you. Smug as he could fucking be, Simon was certain that it had everything to do with his little impromptu video he sent keeping your hands far to busy to type and God did that fuel him with a new secret passion; perhaps he’d have to send you another before he got back, just to be sure that you were a complete goddamn mess for him when you came to pick him up from base.

If he was really lucky and did his job right you’d have to pull over on the ride home just so he could fuck your brains out in the back seat of your car, so needy you wouldn’t be able to wait the short ride back to his place. You’d both have those window panes fogged up real fucking quick.

But there was one thing the self-assured military man forgot about and that was that you were never one to let him go empty handed. The moment Simon had sent his bit of personal porn for your enjoyment, he should have known that you would not want him to miss out on something special for himself; he needed to see with his own two eyes just how much you needed him. And since he had only made that ache worse for you, he had to have a bit of it back.

It was only fair after all.

So eventually once you were able to clear your head and calm your raging heartbeat, you got to work plotting. It had to be a cinematic masterpiece, something so good that he would definitely have to save for private viewings over and over again whenever he was away; you never did anything half-assed and since it was for him it had to be perfect.

The day had been uneventful and that gave ample time for Simon’s devious mind to wander back to you, wondering how many times you’d viewed that spicy clip and how absolutely soaked your panties were from it. Something about the silence from his phone only led him to fantasize about you being nothing more than a puddle in the middle of his bed, legs shaking from how many times you’d cum.

God, to be a fly on the wall he would have given anything.

BZZ…BZZ…

As if prompted by his thoughts alone, his phone buzzed to life as he sat in his bunk wiling away the hours until sleep finally decided to take over. He pulled small rectangle out of his bag that lay beside his bed with a cocky grin plastered to his lips, ready to read the long string of texts about how his distraction was more than satisfactory. The older phone that Simon liked to take into the field didn’t allow him to preview messages before he opened them, so he had no idea what awaited inside until he clicked the icon; his jaw nearly hit the floor and he had to immediately look around him to make sure that there was no one skulking about that could possibly catch a glimpse of his screen.

This was for him and him alone.

It was a picture… not what he was expecting, but he should have known better after his little stunt that you were bound to do something like this. The message directly underneath it read: “Shit, baby, I can’t seem to stop watching your video. Look what you’re doing to me.”

Nearly choking on his saliva, his heart stopped and forcefully restarted in his chest at the glory of image before his eyes. Goddamn he could not pull his sight away; you had to have gone to a lot of trouble to set this all up, but fuck was it worth it just so that he could see you like this.

There you were spread eagle across his bed, completely naked save for the singular hair tie dangling from your wrist that had become a staple of your everyday attire. Your hand was precisely placed between your thighs, fingers clearly buried in that juicy cunt of yours. Head fallen back, presumably eyes shut tight, tits up with your nipples hard, goddamn you were the prettiest fucking picture he had ever fucking seen.

He was falling head over heels all over again.

The pressure of his cock straining harshly against the zipper of his pants became incredibly painful all of a sudden and he rushed to undo the restraining fabric in a hurry; such a visceral effect that you always seemed to produce in him no matter how many times he saw you bare. Pulling the waistband open he lay there with nothing but his boxers to keep him covered.

It had been a long minute since your body was available for his viewing pleasure and he sucked every last drop of that photo down, transfixed as if he had been put under hypnosis. Eyes scanning every inch of that tiny picture glaring back at him through the darkness, the ache in his chest grew as did the heat so that even though his shirt was off he was still boiling to the touch; fuck he needed you so bad it was agony. There was no lie when Simon had said he was desperate to make you cum, he would give anything to feel you writhe beneath him right now, body burning as he put all his focus into making you slip over the edge as many times as humanly possibly.

Whatever he had to do, whatever sin he had to commit that would get him to you fast enough, he would in an instant just to ride straight to hell between those luscious thighs.

Satisfying your temptation was worth the damnation.

How much time had passed since he become consumed by your image he didn’t know, but now there was something on his phone that was beginning to download. His heartbeat pounded loudly in his ears as he waited on baited breath, barely moving a muscle in anticipation for whatever it was you had sent him. Auburn eyes were boring holes into his phone as he watched that slow fucking progress bar inch its way forward at a turtles pace; Christ, it was going to make him drop dead from the excited expectation of what was to come once it was done.

BZZ... BZZ…

Finally, after what felt like a fucking eternity, the damned thing was finished and ready for him. A video was what waited for his viewing pleasure, slightly longer than the one he had sent the night before. With shaky, unsteady hands Simon dived head first for his headphones in his bag without a second thought, nearly ripping the canvas apart trying to pry them out as fast as his hands would allow. Shoving the buds into his ears as his pulse raced through his veins, he pushed play...

And his blood pressure shot through the goddamn roof.

“Ahh, Simon…” your breathy moan hit his ears first and his brain flat-lined as he nearly came just from just the sound of your sweet tone calling out his name. How long had it been since he had heard you mewling his name in the throws of passion? So damn long it should have been a crime.

The way you had the camera set up he could see it all, the perfect goddamn angle as if he were sitting in the room with you, watching as you touched yourself. Why the ever loving fuck could he not reach through the screen and get to you? That was the worst part of it all; he desperately needed to be the one to make you produce all those pretty sounds.

“Fuck, Simon, I miss you so much,” you continued, your body jerking as your fingers continued to dance around your clit, your toes curling around the sheets. “I’ve been so empty it hurts… need you to fill me full again baby. Reach that ache deep inside that I can’t seem to get. It’s only getting worse without you.”

Simon’s cock throbbed forcefully, pressing harshly against his lower abdomen as the video continued to play; it felt as if he might burst just from the sudden rush of blood to that beastly appendage. Swallowing down a stray groan that threatened to escape his lips and give him away, he nearly gagged on it just to keep it down, but fuck did he want to let loose. He was being consumed by his desire: skin on fire, eyes transfixed on your gorgeous rocking form, mouth agape as he breathed heavy, he took a hold of his engorged member and pulled it free from his boxers before he began to stroke the length; there was no way he could sit here and watch you like this without touching himself.

Back on the screen, your legs were jerking sporadically as you pictured Simon there with you, pumping in and out of you with all that he had. “Need your fat fucking cock to stretch me out good,” you whimpered pathetically, using all that pent up frustration to aid in your performance; it was torment. “Oh God baby, I need it so bad…can’t take it.”

Fuck it hurt to hear your need and not be able to do a damned thing about it right then and there. He swore to himself that by the time he finally got his hand around those curves he was gonna fill you so full that your pussy wouldn't know what to do without him inside you.

Simon hissed under his breath as his grip tightened around his dripping, aching cock, rapid strokes gaining speed so as to perfectly match your rhythm just so that he could trick his brain into imagining himself pumping in and out of your tight, wet cunt. It paled in comparison to the real thing because there was no replicating how you felt wrapped around him, but it would do for now. Together you both worked yourselves on opposite sides of the screen, just trying your hardest to ease the torturous longing.…as if fucking each other across the space between you.

You were completely losing yourself in the moment, unable to hold back all those needs that had been put aside as he was gone. The image of Simon touching himself to the thought of you, his words sounding so desperate, played over in your mind as you worked yourself and you could not stop the way it made you feel, the yearning need for him to completely and utterly wreck your body to the point that even the idea of being with anyone else would never be able to come close to what he could give.

“Shit Simon, I want…

I want…" you had to say it, it was gonna come out anyway…

"I want you to breed me,” you said stammered out the plea as your free hand massaged over your breasts. That warmth was building, rising in the pit of your stomach as you said those forbidden words aloud. “I need you to breed me good Simon, make sure I’m ruined for anyone else. Oh God, please, baby. I need it, I need you.”

Christ that was his fucking kryptonite, his Achilles heel, the one thing is the whole wide world that could stop him dead in his tracks and bring him to his proverbial knees. The minute those delicious words exited your mouth, there was no stopping his ecstasy from overwhelming him to the point that he could he was gone.

Oh he was gonna make sure that sweet little cunt had his name written all fucking over it.

Nope that was it, what little straggling bit of sanity he had left had flown and he could not hold back the pressure any longer from reaching its peak and violently throwing him off the ledge. With a strenuous grunt that echoed in his chest and a few hard tuggs up and down his shaft he came with such force that his body shook his entire cot as he stroked out every last bit of milky white fluid from the tip. His cum coating his lower abdomen, getting caught in the sparse bit of hair the covered the area was making a mess, but he didn’t care; the euphoria currently surging through his veins like electricity clouded any negative thoughts.

The sound of your orgasm your mewls as your rocketed through you played into his ears, the perfect soundtrack to finish out the rest of his own pleasure. You fell back against the mattress, chest heaving with exhausted breaths as your legs shook and relaxed stretched out as the video finished.

Fuck, he was gonna need a cigarette after that, his body still vibrating with the sheer intensity of it all.

BZZ…BZZ…

The phone vibrated one last time, a final text to send him off into the night.

“I hope it was just as good for you as it was for me,” it said, followed by a sneaky winky face. “Sleep tight.”

If he thought he was missing you before, but that was nothing compared to now. It was overwhelming the need he had to have you making those sounds for him again. You had better be ready to getting the car cleaned and detailed because there was no way you weren’t going to be pinned down in the back seat after that one…because you had just made that ache so much worse.

Part 3:

[xxchumanixx]

Sing me a Lullaby

Tim Bradford x reader

Warnings/Tags: character death, angst, fluff, hurt

Word count: 482

Authors note: Hey guys, don't know how this happened, but I suddenly had this idea. If my goal is to make you cry? Maybe. I did (but only a little bit, I swear). The song mentioned is Lullabye from Billy Joel.

I would say enjoy, but...

There weren't a lot of things Tim Bradford was scared of.

Still he couldn't sleep, having a hard time to calm down.

With you it was different.

Whenever he couldn't sleep you would sing him a lullaby, calming down his racing heart and erasing the horrible things he saw, when he closed his eyes.

He had seen a lot of things no one should ever see in their lives.

No matter how often he told himself that he was strong, your presence and your sweet voice that filled his head, luring him to sleep, were the only things that helped him at night.

"Goodbye my angel, time to close your eyes." you would sing, your fingers brushing through his hair as you smelled his familiar scent.

"And save these questions for another day. I think I know what you've been asking me, I think you know what I've been trying to say."

It was a song as old as you were, your father singing it to you whenever you couldn't sleep as a baby. It continued even when you grew older, until he died of cancer when you were still very young.

You knew every word of it by heart, the song having a deep meaning for you. Tim knew that, feeling honored that you decided to share it with him.

You were his save haven, his light.

So when you were on patrol with your rookie, a call turning out to be a shooting like you'd rarely seen, his thoughts were trained on you, trying to get you all out of there alive as the supervising officer.

He silently gave administrations, telling you where to go and where to position yourselves, waiting for his signal.

It should have been easy, going in, arresting the drug dealer, going back out.

But it wasn't.

When you stormed the abandoned storage hall, they'd already been waiting for you.

Hiding behind boxes you waited for a clear shot, all the while looking out for the others. Firing whenever you were able to, you shot one down, Tim shooting another one.

There was backup right behind you, Harper, Nolan, Grey, Lucy and some other cops.

When you had shot all of them down, you released a sigh of relief. Even though they managed to surprise you, only one got shot in the leg.

Coming out from your hiding spot you followed Tim and Harper, as they slowly made their way forward.

There was no one in sight, causing you to frown. But you would have never complained about something easier than it looked.

But suddenly, your body jerked forward, straight towards Tim, who's face was sprinkled with blood.

Before you could have asked yourself where the blood came from, you fell into his arms, suddenly having trouble to breathe.

Tim's eyes widened in horror, as he slowly sank down onto his knees with you in his arms.

"No..." he breathed, as you started to feel the pain. A shot rang, as you heard someone call clear.

"No, no, no, no, no!" Tim panicked, frantically pressing his hands to the wound in your chest.

He couldn't lose you.

"Y/N, stay with me!" he shouted, though it seemed to blur, as your fingers slowly brushed over his cheek, adding more blood to it as your body convulsed.

You didn't get enough air into your lungs. It was like something blocked your airways, as you struggled.

Someone called for an ambulance, as Tim pressed harder on your wound. His fingers were full of your blood, as it seemed to just seep through, no matter his attempts of stopping it.

"Y/N!" you heard him shout your name again, as tears formed in his eyes, one after another freeing themselves. "I can't lose you, please, stay with me!"

A hot tear ran down your cheek, as you tried to understand what was happening through the fog in your brain. "I-I love you, T-Tim." you sputtered, blood seeping from your mouth.

"I love you too, so don't dare dying on me now!" he gave back, shaking as he sobbed.

You felt so cold, numb.

"Sing me a lullaby." you asked of him, as you noticed how black blotches started to cover your vision.

He stared at you for a moment, speechless. But he did as you asked him to, silently praying that the ambulance would make it in time.

"Goodbye my angel, time to close your eyes." His voice broke, as a sob racked through him, tears running into his open mouth. "And save these questions for another day."

His heart wrenched, as he fell silent, trying to find back his voice, hands still pressing on your wound.

"I think I know what you've been asking me." he continued, your body hanging limp in his arms. "I think you know what I've been trying to say. I promised I would never leave you, and you should always know, wherever you may go, no matter where you are, I never will be very far."

Anther sob racked through him, his body shaking as he sung the words he remembered by heart.

"Goodbye my angel, now it's time to sleep."

He didn't know that you never heard his last words, even if they meant the world to him.

But as you lay dying in his arms, you knew he was your home. And wherever you may go, you would be his.

Always and forever.

[daceydeath]

Dance Practice

Pairing: Yeosang x reader Word Count: 1.6K Genre: Smuty smut smut Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Explicit Activities

What started as some friendly assistance in helping you master some choreography morphs into something so much more

You were meant to be concentrating, but Yeosang wasn’t making that easy, being a trainee was everything you wanted and although you had tried to audition for so many companies, you ended up only having one option, KQ. It had its disadvantages but the advantages far outweighed them. One of the biggest was being in the vicinity of Ateez. So here you stood as Yeosang so kindly offered to help you out with the choreography after watching you utterly failing to pick it up as fast as the other trainees that were using the spare practise room that he had reserved for the afternoon, and you could not keep your mind on anything other than how his arms loong in that black tank top. Biting your lip hard you tried desperately to stop your mind from undressing him as you watched him move so gracefully in the mirror in front of you, his movements precise and perfect, which of course they would be it was choreography that he performed constantly that you couldn’t seem to be able to even begin to master.

“I know Hala Hala is intense but I’m sure you can get it” Yeosang smiled in the mirror looking at you as you pinched your eyebrows together, you were unendingly grateful that he thought your frustration was to do with the choreography and not the ache developing in your lower half,

“Thank you for helping me Yeosang sunbaenim” you smiled genuinely, bowing as he turned to look at you properly. “You are far too kind”.

“Do you want me to go over it again or would you like to practice tomorrow?” he asked in his honey voice, making it even harder for you to keep your mind on the task at hand.

“Oh perhaps tomorrow? I don’t want to take up anymore of the time you had reserved for yourself” you bowed again not wanting to take advantage but also desperate to be slightly further away from him so you could clear the thick fog of lust from your brain. 

“It’s really fine. I only wanted to work on some of our choreography for our comeback. I can do that later, I really think I can help you if we give it an hour” he smiled cheerfully, already moving to get the music cued up. Tying your baggy dance shirt at your waist so that you had some control over it you nodded and accepted your fate that you would learn the choreo then go home and have a long evening with your vibrator. “Let’s do it one more time without the music and then we will try it faster”.

Nodding you got into position to his right watching him run his hand through his hair as he counted you in and started to teach you the first half of the song grinning everytime you picked something up easily and slowing his movements every time you struggled. He repeated himself over and over until he could see each movement click in your mind,  walking to the back of the room you saw him grab his own drink bottle sipping slowly as he watched you finish the last run through on your own.

“Take a water break” he urged, handing you a bottle of water.

“Thank you” you breathed heavily gulping down a few mouthfuls of water.

“Is there anyone you need to let know why you’re late home?” he asked suddenly, looking slightly guilty, that he was taking up your time.

“No, I’m allowed to come and go from the dorm for practice” you blinked confused at the odd expression clouding his pretty face.

“Good, just didn't want to be responsible for causing you trouble” he sighed pleased.

“I’d happily get in trouble for you” you whispered softly, unable to stop yourself and when he curled one of his perfect eyebrows towards you, you slapped your hand over your mouth, your face burning with embarrassment. “I am so sorry” you swallowed hard looking at the floor hoping a sink hole would open up beneath you.

“I didn't quite catch that” he smirked, stepping closer to you until he was almost standing right before you. “Care to repeat that princess?”.

“Um…I…uh” your fumbling just made you feel worse until Yeosang took your chin between his fingers forcing you to meet his eyes.

“I thought I heard something about getting in trouble?” His smirk morphing into a shit eating grin that had your heart racing.

“Yes trouble” you breathed unable to move a muscle.

“I'm going to get you in so much trouble, princess” he continued his other hand locking onto your hip and pulling you hard against him, with your bodies now flush you could feel the way his cock twitched against you and it made your mouth go dry. He gave you a few moments to move away and when you didn't his lips crashed into yours making you gasp, taking the opportunity you gave him he licked into your mouth his tongue dancing with yours. Your lips stayed locked together until you were almost dizzy, breaking away only long enough for him to thread his fingers into your hair and pull you back to him. Backing you up until you were trapped between his hard body and the cold glass of the mirror.

“Yes” you moaned breathily as he kissed his way across your cheek to your jaw then down your neck.

“Tell me to stop if you don't want this” Yeosang mumbled into your hot skin.

“Want this sunbaenim” you whimpered, his hands cupping your breasts and massaging them roughly through your clothes. You could feel him smile against your throat as his hands moved to push your sweat pants down your hips enough that he could slip his fingers between you waiting wet folds.

“It's Yeosang, just Yeosang” he purred, quickly finding your clit and circling it with his fingers making your body jolt.

“Fuck, Yeosang” you yelped softly, spreading your legs wider for him and letting your head fall back against the glass.

“You going to let me have you angel? Right here where anyone could walk in and see you?” He teased his fingers shallowly pressing into your entrance. You nodded silently, breath coming out in short pants the more he toyed with you. “Need to use your words my pretty little angel”.

“Yes Yeosang. Please” you finally gasped, pleading for him to continue touching you. His smile turned almost predatory as he finally pushed two of his fingers inside you stretching your walls in preparation.

“Get undressed” he ordered, chuckling as you fumbled to get your shirt and bra off while he continued pumping his fingers inside you his cocky smile returning as you whined in protest as he slipped his fingers from you to pull his own tank top over his head his wet fingers deftly untying his own drawstrings as he kicked off his shoes. “We don’t have all day, angel”.

Swallowing hard you toed your own shoes off stepping away from the mirror towards him and shimmying out of your pants leaving you in only your underwear in the empty dance studio in the middle of the afternoon. Pulling you back into his arms he kissed you again running his hands over your body, squeezing your arse and things while you ran your fingers across his perfect abs. Sliding his hands down your thighs he hoisted you up encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist before pressing you against the wall next to the mirror.

“So you can watch me fuck you angel” he whispered huskily making your shiver against him. Slipping the cotton of your underwear aside you expected his fingers to return to you core but when the blunt and swollen head of Yeosang’s cock began stretching you open you had to bite down on your lower lip hard to stop from crying out.

“Yeosang” you mewled as he bounced you roughly on his cock his length stretching you walls harshly as he snapped his hips against your arse.

“Fuck you feel like heaven” he groaned lowly against your throat when he mouthed at your flesh licking and sucking at your skin. The quiet of the room was broken by heavy breaths and slapping skin until a loud knock against the door started. You gasped your walls, quivering around Yeosang who grunted softly and thrusted harder into you as a wave of your arousal soaked him.

“Sangie? You in there?” Wooyoung yelled, waiting a few seconds before trying the handle which rattled a few times. Yeosang pressed his lips to yours, his tongue tangling with yours to silence your noises as he continued pounding into you until Wooyoung left, leaving you teetering on the edge of orgasm, your walls quivering around him.

“Yeosang, Fuck” you choked out while your eyes rolled back your walls clamping down on his dick as you came hard Yeosang followed you over the edge letting your walls milk him of his hot seed before kissing you softly on your cheeks and nose.

“So you like being caught huh?” he chuckled teasingly, continuing to hold you against the wall “I’ll remember that for next time”.

“Next time?” you breathed unevenly trying to catch your breath.

“Yeah when I take you out on a date” he smiled, genuinely lowering you to the floor carefully to make sure you could stand properly, you grinned letting him collect your clothes from the floor before he helped you into them and helped you leave while avoiding any of his members who may still have been lingering.

a/n: Thank you my lovelies for reading this and leaving me likes, reblogs and comments as little breadcrumbs of joy xx

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[iwritewhump]

mind control

april is the cruelest month day 5

characters: living weapon, handler, very minor whumpee

warnings: conditioning, drugging

1020 words

~

Living Weapon glares at Handler. He stalks toward her, gun in hand. He’s not sure what his plan is, his brain is foggy and everything in him is telling him to put the gun down and listen to Handler. 

“What are you doing, Living Weapon?” she asks, backing away from him. “I told you-” 

He cuts her off with a glare and puts his finger on the trigger. 

He can hear Whumpee struggling on the ground behind him and he knows the gun is supposed to be pointed at them. It’s what Handler told him to do. It’s his job. 

“Living Weapon!” Handler shouts, pulling his attention back to her. She takes a cautious step forward and reaches a hand into her pocket. 

“Stop!” he snaps, pointing the gun at her chest. “Don’t even think about it.” 

He sees her fingers wrap around something in her pocket and he takes a step forward, pressing the barrel of the gun against her chest. “Don’t.” 

Slowly, Handler pulls her out of her pocket. She turns it over with the palm open to prove to Living Weapon that it’s empty. 

She stares at him, brows furrowed and then looks at Whumpee behind him. 

“What’s your plan?” she puffs out her chest and takes a step forward, pushing Living Weapon’s arm and the gun back. “Hmm? They’ve seen your face. There’s no way you’ll be allowed to see the light of day again. Even if you do let them go. The things you did to them…” 

She cuts herself off and pushes Living Weapon’s arm down until the gun points at the ground. She leans in close to him and whispers in his ear, “They’ll never forgive you.” 

Whumpee shouts something through the gag and LIving Weapon looks over his shoulder. 

They catch his eye and shake their head. Suddenly, their eyes go wide and Whumpee screams at him. 

But they’re too late. Handler jams a syringe into Living Weapon’s thigh and pulls the gun from his hand. 

LIving Weapon tries to pull it back from her, to shoot her before his brain goes fuzzy and he has to obey her, but she keeps a tight grip on it. He blinks slowly and turns to Whumpee. 

He falls to his knees and pulls at their binds until they unravel. He pulls them to their feet and shoves them away, “Run!” 

Whumpee stumbles over their own feet, but manages to sprint out of the alleyway and onto the street. Living Weapon sees them look over their shoulder before turning and running. He wants to shout at them to get help, find someone to save him and get him away from Handler. But the fog is too strong and Handler’s tracing over his arm with her fingers. 

He looks at her and blinks slowly. 

She shakes her head and digs her nails into his arm, pulling him down, “You’re in trouble.” 

He shakes his head and falls to his knees in front of her. His hands lay flat on the ground in front of her and he looks up at her with a vacant stare. 

“Punish me then.” he says, the last of his awareness still fighting inside him. 

Handler blinks slowly and pulls Living Weapon to his feet. She inhales deeply and links her arm with his. 

“Let’s go home.” 

~

Living Weapon blinks awake and turns over on his side. He stares past the bars of his cell and exhales sharply when he sees Handler. 

She pushes herself up from the couch across the room and walks up to the bars of the cell. 

“Do you know what you’ve done?” she spits. “Letting Whumpee go was one of the stupidest things  you’ve ever done. Think of everything they could have done…” she cuts herself off and shakes her head and looks at him. “You’ve nothing to say to me?” 

He blinks wearily and sits up on the cot. “What would you have me do? I can’t get them back for you.” 

“Right about that.” She snaps. “I should punish you for letting them go. Make you…I don’t know.” she sighs heavily and runs a hand over her face. “I don’t want to be mad at you for this, Living Weapon. I need you to make it easy to forgive you.” 

“How do I do that?” He asks, voice barely above a whisper. 

She smiles cruelly and takes a step away from the bars of the cell. “You need to beg.” 

Living Weapon recoils. “I won’t.” 

“You will…” Handler taunts, reaching her hand into her pocket once again. She pulls out another syringe and waves it in Living Weapon’s face…”Whether you want to or not.” 

Staring at the syringe, Living Weapon stands up from the cot and falls to his knees. He crawls to the bars of the cell and leans his forehead against it. 

“I’m so sorry.” he says, voice already breaking. He stares at the syringe in Handler’s hand and reaches out through the bars. 

She takes his hand with her free one and squeezes it tightly. “Not enough.” 

With his other hand, he wraps her hand in his and pulls it close to his face. 

“Please forgive me. I wasn’t thinking about what I was doing. I had a bad moment and it will never happen again.” tears stream down his face as he stares at the syringe in her hand. She twirls it between her fingers like a middle schooler’s pencil as he begs. 

“I know I can never make it up to you and for that I’m so sorry. I blew what was likely our only chance capturing Whumpee and now they’ll never be able to work for you. I only ask that you don’t kill me for my misdeed.” he presses his forehead against her hand and sniffles, “Please forgive me.” 

Handler smiles and puts the syringe on the side table next to her. She pulls Living Weapon to his feet and holds his hands through the bars. “Of course I forgive you.” 

She pulls him close and wraps her arms around him, “Just don’t let it happen again.”

[withleeknow]

remedy.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort; implies that minho has anxiety, unedited bc i am me and you shouldn't expect much from me lmao word count: 1.2k note: hello hello!! i've been meaning to write this since the day of the rock-star comeback but i'm only getting around to finishing it now lol. but the timing's pretty neat so consider this a christmas present from me and mine to you and yours!! <33

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

when the sun rouses you awake in the morning, you feel two arms loosely wrapped around you that weren't there before you fell asleep last night.

you smile to yourself, enjoying the warmth and comfort that he brings you. home, finally.

you turn in his hold, as gently as you can to not disturb your slumbering minho.

you don’t know when exactly he got back, but it couldn’t have been more than a couple of hours ago. sometimes, when he has night schedules, he doesn’t usually return until the sun is peeking over the horizon. you’re used to him having to work throughout the wee hours of the night every other week. you don’t like it, but you’re used to it.

you expect to find him snoozing peacefully beside you, with his handsome face and his lips parted cutely as he lightly snores, but when you finally shuffle around to look at him, you instantly frown.

a frown that matches his own.

baby, you think, what’s wrong?

even in his sleep, minho’s brows are knitted together, the corners of his mouth tugged downward like he’s having a bad dream. the instant concern that rushes through you parts the hazy fog in your brain, and then... you remember.

it was only half past three in the morning when your phone buzzed to life, the vibrations resounding brassily against the wooden surface of your nightstand. reaching out blindly for the device, you only needed to peek through one eye to scan the time and the caller id before you held it to your ear, your face still smushed against your fluffy pillow.

"hmm?"

"i'm sorry," minho was quick to apologize. "did i wake you?" he sounded rushed, like he had wandered off to a corner to steal a few minutes for himself before having to go back.

you made a noncommittal noise, already feeling the exhaustion luring you back to dreamland. it had been a long week and you'd endured five whole days just to get to the weekend, to be able to spend hours on end with your boyfriend. it'd be just you and him, wrapped up together in your cozy little bubble, all your stresses and troubles kept at bay. he was always the best part of your days, your weeks, your months, even your years.

even though you were drifting, you still managed to ask, "is everything okay?"

"yeah, everything’s fine. i just missed you."

it made you smile nonetheless. he didn’t often disturb you in the middle of the night just to be sappy with you whenever he was stuck working odd hours, but it wasn’t necessarily anything out of the ordinary. minho could still be needy and clingy sometimes. it was one of the things that you loved most about him - that he could be a grumpy cat most of the time, but underneath that prickly exterior, he was just a big softie. you loved it even more that you were the only person who could bring out that side of him.

"missed you too," you mumbled. it didn’t sound at all lively, but you knew he could tell that you meant it.

you caught a sigh from his end before he continued. though this time, he let his defenses down when he spoke. his voice came out along with a tired exhale, laced with something that you would’ve been able to pick up on had your mind not been delirious with sleep. "wanna be there with you," he said in earnest. "want you to be here with me."

"when are you coming home?" you asked, even though the words came out a little garbled, your voice heavy with sleep.

"in a couple hours. i'll be home right after this."

"okay. we can-" cue a big yawn. "we can stay in bed as long as you want in the morning."

"yeah, that sounds nice."

"then i’ll see you in a bit, okay?"

he paused briefly before his next words came out a little unsteady, hesitant. the unease with which he spoke bypassed your unassuming radar completely. "can we just stay on the phone?"

"min-"

"you don't have to talk to me. just... stay with me for a while."

you think you might've passed out again after that, the subsequent silence and his breathing on the other end having lulled you back to sleep in a matter of seconds.

my love, it brings tears to your eyes just thinking about it, how could i have missed it?

you quietly move closer to him, shuffling inch by inch until you’re chest to chest, hoping his body could sense your warmth and be comforted by it, even just a little bit. you press a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, but even that simple touch stirs him awake even though minho is usually a deep sleeper.

his eyes slowly open, and you suppose the tug on your heartstrings loosens when the furrow between his brows eases as he takes in the sight of you.

he heaves a sigh of relief, and it’s like you can actually see some of the tension leaving his body as he pulls you to him, holding you against him so tightly that it’s impossible to move even if you wanted to.

"hi," you say, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, snuggling further into him until it’s hard to tell if the heartbeat you feel is yours or his.

"hi," he replies, his soft lips placing a greeting kiss on the top of your head.

"bad day?" night, but oh well. technicalities. 

his answer comes muffled against your hair, though you feel the slight vibration of his chest when he mutters, "it wasn’t that bad. i was just a little overwhelmed."

"but it's better now?"

"much better, now that you’re here."

truthfully, you don’t really know what to say in moments like this. you want to be able to offer him reassuring words that could ease his nerves and calm his raging sea, but you’re not good with words. you never have been. you don’t think you ever will be, as much as you want to. for him.

it makes you feel guilty at times, not being able to give minho the peace he needs.

you do try though, to comfort him as much as you can.

"i love you," you say quietly. your arm wraps around him, your palm landing on his upper back where your fingers tenderly soothe the firm muscles you find. i'm sorry i wasn't there for you. i wish i have the right words to say to you.

"i could listen to you breathe and feel ten times better," he admits, putting some distance between your faces so he can look at you, as if it'll help emphasize his words. "i don’t even need you to do anything. i just need you. you’re more than enough for me."

his eyes bore into yours, glittering with nothing but a kind of sincerity that he never shows anyone but you. you kiss him then, soft and slow. you want to pour as much love into him as you possibly can. and even then you don't think it can amount to a fraction of what he deserves.

but nonetheless, you try. you try because he means the world to you.

i'll do better for you. let me share your burdens with you.

pulling away, you tell him, as your palm gently holds his cheek, a touch which he leans into instantaneously. "go back to sleep. i’ve got you."

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 25.12.2023]

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Trouble In The Garden- Loki x Reader

Summary: Seems Thors human friend stumbled upon some old plants of Asgard, and Loki is forced to help the gorgeous naked human.

Word count: 1, 751

Though Loki loathed having to live in Asgard once again, he couldn’t help the admiration and enchantment he felt when looking at the stunning flowers that filled the gardens. Though he was no longer in a cell, he still felt trapped in Asgard and pretty much confined himself to the library or his room.

Loki would love nothing more than to be in the library right now, but since Thor had brought you to Asgard, you seemed to make it your mission to annoy him. Every time he tried to get some peace and quiet, he could hear your infuriating voice or laughter. Just yesterday he went to the library, seeing you were no where in sight, but the library was exactly where he found you. You had ruined his haven, so to the gardens he went.

There were many gardens in Asgard, but the ones Loki walked were some of the oldest. Though a lot of the garden had been forgotten and seemingly lost to time, the flowers still seemed to bloom perfectly.

Loki had begun to bend down to admire a particular flowers beauty, but as with the library, it seemed he was interrupted by an awful scream.

Rolling his eyes, Loki was beginning to become fed up with his lack of peace and quiet. Abruptly straightening himself, he began to storm over to the source of the continued wailing noise.

Walking past rows of lush flora, he found himself at the back gate of the garden. His brow furrowed in a quizzical look as he unlatched the gate and walked through.

This certain part of Asgard had been discarded for a long time, mainly full of dangerous and poisonous plants. Of course Loki himself knows the area well, but many others would not even think to venture here.

Walking closer to the source of the wailing, it began to sound more animalistic, like growls and pants instead of human type screams. The closer his feet carried him to the source of the sound, the more he realised where his feet were taking him.

Though this part of Asgard held many dangers, it also held things that if used correctly, could be quite enjoyable. Going through the dangerous parts of this area would lead to what some Asgardians would refer to as the ‘party plants’.

They were plants that weren’t used as commonly anymore, but Loki had grown familiar with a few of them when he was younger. Psychedelics and mood altering plants were the main ones, but from the direction he was going, he knew that the growling came from a plant used for other means.

This plant was one that shut down inhibitions and raised libido. Again, Loki had definitely enjoyed this certain plants at times and began to chuckle to himself thinking of what pleasure this poor person could be craving.

His smirk however turned to a look of shock as he noticed that the person affected was actually you, Thors friend, Thors human friend.

“Oh no.” He muttered to himself, watching your naked form writhe on the forest floor.

While such a plant is fun for Asgardians, it is still very strong, and for a human, it could possibly be deadly.

You may infuriate Loki at times, but he’d be lying if he said he’d never thought of you in a less than innocent way. He often tried to ignore you, but he did often find himself staring and possibly even fantasising.

So to see you now, completely naked, covered in sweat with a distinct wetness covering your thighs, well he didn’t mind being the hero in this case.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He softly asked as he gingerly approaches.

He knees down and places a soft hand on your shoulder, trying hard not to stare at your gorgeous body as he does so.

Since the moment the flower had affected you, you felt your brain was in this foggy haze, you barely even realised Loki was approaching you. Once his skin touched yours however, it was like the fog immediately vanish and your whole body and mind filled with need and heat.

Your eyes flung open at the contact, revealing dark orbs where your once bright eyes were. An almost hiss left your lips as you pounced onto Loki, knocking him to his back with a new enhanced strength.

Once you had him pinned with your thighs straddling his hips, you wasted no time in ripping his green tunic right down the middle. You tear at the back of the tunic as you leave vicious kisses and bites all over his neck and chest.

“Y-y/n, stop.. I- I can help yoouu aawwhh.” He moaned out, the mix of both your kisses and grinding becoming too much for him.

“I know you can.” You smirk down at the god below you devilishly, as you tug his head back with a handful of hair at his scalp.

Wasting no time, you shove your lips down onto Lokis in a messy and desperate kiss. All effort of wanting to help you in any other way is lost with your dominating actions and powerful kiss.

Moaning into the kiss, Lokis hands grab onto your bare hips tightly, as he pushes you to grind harder against him.

His skin on yours lights that desperate and primitive fire in you once again. Breaking the desperate kiss, you can’t help but let out a loud shouting moan. Pushing your breasts against his now exposed chest, you can’t help but need to feel more of him.

Licking at his pale chest, it’s like you’re possessed as you push your body and your face further down his body. Quickly reaching his matching green linen pants, you rip them off his body too, exposing his large and desperate cock to you.

Finally seeing what you’d been rubbing against and craving, you let out a loud and desperate whining moan.

Licking one long strip up his cock, Loki shudders below you as he begins to rise. Pushing him down with your new enhanced strength, your black eyes meet his green.

Staring at him like a lion would its prey, Loki surprisingly begins to feel both intimidated and extremely aroused. He’s never wanted someone to ruin him so much as he wants you to right now.

Growling once again, your hand shoots up to his throat, holding him down as you once again straddle his hips. Now with your bare pussy coming into contact with his hard cock, you feel that need again, as you desperately grind against him.

“I need you, Loki.” You choke out, the heightened pleasure almost feeling too good.

“Take what you need from me, darling. I am here but to serve you.” He chokes out.

Loki surprises himself, finding how much he really does enjoy a submissive role. He doesn’t know what’s come over him but with you above him like this, he would give you anything and allow you to control him however you pleased. In this state he was nothing and you were everything, a mad and hungry goddess who he wishes to please and have nothing in return.

The wicked smile that appears on your face causes a choked moan to leave Lokis desperate parted lips.

With both the hunger that the pollen has given you, and the way it has made your pussy drenched, you waste no time in sinking down onto Lokis massive cock.

As soon as he fills you up, you immediately begin to harshly bounce, grind and rock against your lover. Your hands dig into his shoulders with a strength that begins to hurt, but Loki finds he likes it. His hands grab at your hips once again and this only causes you to howl out even louder at the way his touch sets your skin alight.

Looking down at him, the more you draw your pleasure from him, the more your eyes begin to turn back to their regular colour. Your grip on his shoulders loosen and the affects of the pollen seem to wear off the closer you are to your release.

Loki never breaks his eye away from you, feeling like they draw him in. While keeping your eye, his fingers make their way from your hip, to your clit, lightly rubbing it. It’s only as Loki makes contact with your clit do your eyes finally close and your head is thrown back.

As Lokis fingers speed up, your movements become sloppier and less powerful.

“I’m gonna cum! Please Loki cum with me! Fill me up please! I need to feel you! Oooohhh!” You desperately beg to the god below you.

Though your dominating actions have begun to die down, Loki still sees you as a goddess, and he still wishes to serve you.

“Doing so well, my gorgeous darling. Making me feel so good. You gonna cum with me, my queen?” He pants out below you.

“Yes! Yes! Yeeesss! Oooohh Looookkkii!!” You scream out to the canopy of trees above you as a powerful orgasm washes over your body.

Lokis release follows immediately, as he thrusts his hips up to meet yours with a growl. You however were too exhausted to realise, and by the time he came down, he saw you were asleep peacefully on his chest.

*****

By the time you awoke again, you noticed you were in a large comfortable bed, your skin clean and you wore new clothes. Pieces of the event came back to you and once you saw Loki come through the door with tea and food, it all came back at once.

Looking into his eyes, you were no longer that powerful and dominating force, instead you resembled more of a timid animal.

Loki smiled at you softly as he brought a tray of tea and sweets to you.

“How are you feeling?” He quietly asked.

“I’m okay. I’m sorry. I-I shouldn’t have done that I’m s-so sorry.” You began to plead at as tears began to brim in your eyes.

“No no no. Ssshh ssshhh. It’s okay, darling.” He gently soothed at his hand stroked along your cheek.

Closing your eyes, you let out a shuddering sigh, his touch enough to put you at ease.

“I quite enjoyed it, and I wanted to take care of you, both then…. and now.” Loki shyly admitted as you stare lovingly at each other.

Staring into his eyes, a memory of something he’d said made a smirk appear on your face.

“So, your queen huh?”

[l0vesecretsociety]

KEEPING TABS

“For some stupid reason, I keep on believing.” 

tags: ekko x fem! reader, angst. oneshot. warnings: none. art, not mine.

Ekko should’ve seen this coming. For all the ways he has been treating you, how he’d wrong you, he knew you’d eventually drift away and the both of you would soon break. But the thing was,  he’d still be pacing back and forth over at his worksop, thinking about all the ways he could’ve done something. Something to prevent this, instead of tinkering with a new invention to prosper his home. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he bangs his head lightly on the bark of the tree. He tells himself to move on, that it’s your loss, not his. He tries so hard to go back to work but his brain just automatically malfunctions because it's flooded with your image. He’s angry at every little mistake he makes and throws it away to make up for it. 

Then a bulb pops up above his head. No. He shakes his head, let’s not do that. 

But he does anyway. Ekko flies over in the middle of the night while everyone is fast asleep,  the sound of his engine clunks as he zooms through Zaun. He had to know what you were up to these days. Logically, you would’ve been asleep now, but knowing you, you’re probably buried your nose deep into a book. And he just had to know you were doing what his mind imagines, maybe then he’ll work better. Seeing you was close enough. And when he does arrive at his destination—aka your small apartment, he sees you and as he guessed, sleeping on top of your book, a pen still in your hand. Ekko purses his lip at the sight, he wants to place a blanket over you to make you feel warm, but he knows he’s already crossed the line. He swallowed hard, at truth—at the reality of it all, that you were no longer his.  He sighs, taking one more look back at your figure before leaving to go back home. 

Funny is that word, home. Where is that now, when there is only a cold room he traps himself in and nothing of you. He could no longer feel your warmth, he desperately yearned. He clenched his jaw and ran back to work. Work. That’s all he ever does even as you were there beside him, and you’ve been there for him, always, and he appreciated so much—but then you slipped away from his grasp. Took him long enough to realize that. He really needs to get over you, but the ghost of your warmth hovers over him in a constant  cycle. 

Everyone could tell he was out of it. Scar tries to leave him alone for a while, letting him cope on his own. Scar has been through that kind of heartbreak before and he knows what’s best. Even the kids are bothered, and kids can see through lies, you know. They’re more honest than the law, and they’re not shy to point out what's happening with Ekko right now. Ekko just brushes them off with a smile and a good excuse (not really), but the more he lies to them, the more they ask. 

“You’ve been distracted lately.” Scar says, arms crossed, leaning on to the door frame. 

“I’m fine.” Scar thinks, no, knows it was bs. What started as one night thing, something for closure, now became a nightly thing. Mission after mission, he’s been disappearing into the fog. If he wasn’t out on the mission, he took the night when everyone else was asleep. Scar knows where he was going, where he was running back to. It’s truly spine chilling what you’ve done to him, a guy whose painfully and awfully focused on his work—on his goal of building a wonderful community, now going around town looking for you causing bits of mishaps here and there. He thought it was just one of your quarrels, a small trouble in paradise, not a full on separation. Scar felt guilty of not being able to help out Ekko and convince you to stay.  Why should he? It was not his to begin with, but it was driving him to the edge the way Ekko was acting right now. 

“I’m serious, Ekko.” 

“Well, I am too.” That he was, he’d become humourless the past few months. “Could you just… leave me alone,” he says, calling back his focus on his new ‘invention,’ and knowing him, it was just another crap idea he pulled out of his ass.  It was true, there was no lie to that. Ekko, despite his circumstances, was smart. He was a bright engineer who embedded all sorts of science and math into his work, but now- at this point, he’s just glueing cogs together. Everything he created reminded him of you. Your favourite flowers, your little book idea, and your nerdy phrases on the books he reads. It frustrated him because deep inside, he kept on believing that you felt the same too. That you pretend you were there with him on the bed, snuggled together, sharing each other’s warmth the same way he did.  That your ear perks up too, every time you hear his name like he does. 

He really needs to get over you. He tries, he does, really. But he can’t help but want to see you all time, when wearing your Academy uniform and the cute bow completing your look or in your own outfits. You were glowing, flourishing, without him. He wants to talk to you, and get this over and done with. He wants his heart to stop clenching every time you talk to another guy or smile at them, he wants his head to think straight, he wants to rid himself of you. The troubling thing was, he can’t and a part of him doesn’t want to. Ekko knows he should move on, he knows that he’s hurt you, he knows he shouldn’t be keeping tabs on you—that he should let go of you. He could only wish you back, will you to walk the same path towards the firelight tree as him because he knows, you’ll never do anymore.

[umathurwin]

you're the treasure, dive down deeper still

jj maybank x f!reader; nsfw 18+

Summary: Y/N just wants one evening to herself in a bar, alone. Is that so much to ask?

Well, for JJ, it is.

tags, warnings, and more on ao3!

“Come here often?”

She cringed. It wasn’t like she didn’t expect people to talk to her; it’s a Kook bar, and most of them were massive extroverts, but she still wasn’t in the mood to make any conversation. Y/N pasted on the not-very-apologetic “sorry, not interested” look on her face before turning and replacing it immediately with a grimace when she saw the messy blonde hair. “Ugh, go away.”

JJ’s mouth dropped open in fake-shock, slapping a palm to the buttons on his vest—clearly part of some uniform. “Now now, Elsa. Why the cold shoulder?”

“That’s not even a good joke,” Y/N wrinkled her nose and took a sip from her drink. “How do you manage to work at every well-off establishment on this freakin’ island?”

“Labor shortage.”

“What do you want?” she asked monotonously.

“To talk to you.” JJ set an arm to casually lean onto the counter, and acted like his hand didn’t slip a little on the varnished oak surface.

“Are you even allowed to be talking to me?” she asked, glancing over to see if any management was monitoring this boldly lazy employee. They were not.

“Of course I am. In fact, right now, I’m telling you all about the special drinks we have tonight,” JJ winked, waving his arms to give mock-recommendations.

“I don’t drink.” JJ’s eyes flickered down to the sweating drink sitting in front of her. “It’s Diet Coke, smartass.”

He snorted. “Didn’t even say anything, princess,” he muttered, rubbing his jaw like he’d been punched.

Y/N’s back stiffened. “Don’t call me that.” She turned away from him in the hopes that he wouldn’t catch the apples of her cheeks heating up.

“Why?” he cooed, tilting his head cheerlessly. “You’ve liked it before.”

“Stop.”

“And you kind of are one. I mean, your father owns half the boardwalk. Dontcha sometimes feel like royalty in this little town? Guess that makes me your court jester.”

“Don’t talk about my dad.”

“Mm, sensitive topic? Is that why you’re so nervous that I’m chatting with you? You think I’m gonna mess up that sweet reputation you have if word gets out you’ve been getting fucked by a Pogue?”

“JJ—!”

“Or are you that flustered because you’re thinking about the last time we were together?”

“Please, d—”

“’Cause if that’s the reason, I honestly don’t blame you. I think about it, too. Have you ever cum that hard before in your life?”

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, now just burying her face in her hands because it was definitely bright red by now. “Don’t you have some Cameron clan member to piss off?”

“Not ‘til 10,” he shrugged. “Until then, I’ll be here, taking empty glasses from rich people, replacing them with full ones, and whispering things in your ears that’ll make you cross your legs.”

“And what if I leave?”

He sighed, finally taking his weight off the counter and stepping away from her. “That’s the funny thing, doll. You always come back.”

***

JJ had to hold onto the headrest of the driver’s seat to keep himself stable while rocking his hips. A bead of sweat dropped off his forehead and plopped down onto Y/N’s body, but she was far too preoccupied to notice or care.

“Didn’t have to prove me right so soon, baby,” he teased, relishing the way her back arched up into him to increase their contact. “We didn’t even leave the parking lot.”

She whined. “Be nice.”

He bottomed out, leaning down to hungrily kiss her. “I think I’m bein’ real nice to you right now, sweetheart.”

Y/N gasped at his cock pressing against that one spot, digging her fingernails into the flesh on his back. “You’re gonna—fuck—get in trouble,” she whined, hand reaching up and streaking down the fogged window. His brain melted; as cliché as it was, it’s fucking hot.

She was unfortunately right, and if he isn’t careful getting back inside for his shift, she was gonna really be right. “Don’t care,” he gritted out anyways. “I’ll lose a thousand jobs for a chance to get this pussy.”

“M’gonna cum,” she admitted, and he could honestly tell. Her walls pulsed around him, threatening to release at any minute.

“Mm, really?” he purred, forehead dropping down. “M’little princess is gonna cum all over my cock? So good for me, and what did I do to deserve this?”

“Fucked me right,” she choked out in between thrusts, and boy, if that didn’t stroke his ego.

“Oh yeah? Like this?” JJ picked up his pace just a bit, slamming his hips against hers even harder, resulting in a delicious noise echoing around the cab of his truck.

In return, her eyes flew back and her entire body shuddered, her pussy clenching down around his cock and becoming suddenly so much wetter. He didn’t stand a fucking chance, and came with a shameless moan shortly after.

Redressing was the worst fucking part, for both of them. It was silent, and tense, two things JJ refused to subject himself to.

“Same time next week?” he joked, chest fluttering slightly and eyes darting around conspicuously. He always made some form of joke to cut the thick air between them (which she enjoyed, unbeknownst to him), but never anything about meeting again. It was supposed to stop happening, anyways.

Y/N sniffled after tugging her dress and heels back on. “S’exactly my problem, isn’t it? You know I’ll always be back.”

JJ forced a smile that lasted until she ambled out of the car and slammed the door behind her, leaving him alone in a steamy ass truck cab.

[lueurjun]

ENHA REACTION ⋆̩ s/o that wears a hip chain and anklets

. ˚◞☁️ ✧˖🤍࿐ྂ

. ˚◞☁️ ✧˖🤍࿐ྂ

🖇·˚ ༘┊ 𝐑𝐄𝐐 . @666booklover , , Heyy 😁 Its me again lol.. can I pls request an enha reaction to a s/o that always wears a hip chain and anklets, if it's not too much trouble 😅. (like do u think they'd think it's 🥴 or something Imao). My Indian bestie heard I had an account and I am speaking on her behalf (aaand I just got pinched) tysm!!

˚ ༘💭 ·˚ message from lueurjun . . . hope this was okay for you my love !! sorry it took so long, i had a major brain fog and couldn’t seem to find the right words, but i hope i did your request justice.

★ ! H E E S E U N G

no but he hasn’t breathed the same since he met you

bro wheezes in your mere presence

legit the embodiment of the pick up line: ‘are you an inhaler because you took my breath away’

yeah he’s cute but i’d write you poetry just sayin

he’s so in love with you in general, but with the added combination of you wearing hip chains and anklets, he’s enamoured by you

enamoured 🤓 look at me thinkin i’m smart

literally would go out of his way to get you more

drives the rest of the members up the wall with how much he talks about you

“they were wearing such a beautiful hip chain piece, the other day with a gorgeous anklet to match it- it brought out their eyes and-‘

‘heeseung im glad you’re a simp, but please shut up’

that was 100% jay or ni-ki ( i bet jay )

i can see him pouting when you decide not to wear one

like he just stares at you for a little while and you’re like ??

not that he doesn’t find you stunning without them, he does, but he’s grown accustomed to you wearing them

not him being obsessed… i could be more obsessed if you want. say the word, i’ll roundhouse kick him

he also likes the noises they make whenever you move

it literally soothes him??

bro stop before i literally cry

he’s so in love pls let me be you for a day

or be with you 😏

★ ! J A Y

slightly more reserved than heeseung

as in, not as obsessive about it, but he still loves them type of thing

he doesn’t make a big deal out of it, but not so much that you feel unappreciated because he still makes sure to compliment them — and you in general

that’s right. yeah he does. if not, he’ll have a meeting with my fists: pretty and punch.

though just because he’s not as obsessed does not mean he’s not observant

he pays enough attention to know which ones you prefer, and which colour you wear more often

so when he decides to surprise you with a new anklet or hip chain, it’s always the colour that you prefer

OBSERVANT KING 👏

jay is also a fashion icon, so a lot of the time, he helps you pair them with a super nice outfit

super proud to strut around with you on his arm wearing your pretty hip chain which matches with your outfit, paired with a gorgeous anklet

mesmerising the locals with your outfits during a little coffee date

this could be us but you playinnn 😔🤟

no but seriously, jay loves your hip chains and anklets ( almost as much ) as he loves you

i could love you more tho

★ ! J A K E

this man legitimately GIGGLES whenever he catches sight of the chain

someone poison me he’s so cute

just when he thinks he’s found his favourite one

you rock up in different one and suddenly, that’s his favourite

and don’t even get him started on the anklets

bro loses all composure

me when you exist fr 🤭😌

to be honest, i can see jake wanting to match anklets with you

and he for sure would gift you one with a ‘j’ initial on it just because he loves you

‘not because he owns me, ‘cause he really knows me’ BOP

jake is 100% the type to play with it

like you could be laying together and all of a sudden you’d feel his fingers gently brush against your skin

and when you glance down, he’s absentmindedly playing with your hip chain

or if your feet are in his lap

he’s fiddling with the chain of anklet

someone be my jake, i can’t handle this anymore

it’s a habit of his at this point so now you don’t really bat an eyelash when he does it

but it does cause a stir inside of you when he does it in front of his friends

because it’s so intimate?? and loving?? and in front of his friends proves that he doesn’t mind showing that bit of affection

a man that is secure and proud 👏 you deserve nothing less baby !!

but it’s also not over the top enough to be considered as PDA

sighhh i’m obsessed with you guys

★ ! S U N G H O O N

a lot like jay, like he doesn’t really make a huge deal out of it

he thinks they’re nice, and he likes them but he doesn’t feel the urge to make a massive deal

like jay, he will compliment you and make sure you know that he thinks you’re stunning and that they really go with your outfit

he may even become slightly more touchy but won’t say anything about it

nonchalant mf tryna act all cool 🙄😎

despite acting all cool, i can see sunghoon secretly making you a hip chain or an anklet ( maybe both )

like on valentine’s day, amongst all of the other gifts he’s spoiled you with

he just whips out a box and sheepishly hands it to you

imagine he just launches it at your head and walks off-

and when you open it, your eyes instantly brim with tears because you imagine him just sitting there for hours

awh imagine him sitting with his legs crossed- STOP I CAN’T BE PUBLICLY CRYING OVER A GROWN MAN SITTING DOWN

it’s obvious he’s put a lot of effort into it

he may have even followed a tutorial step by step

and it definitely becomes your favourite piece

posting it on your story and him complaining that all his friends are going to see

but then refusing to let you take it down when you offer because he feels superior knowing their partners will whine about him being so sentimental and creative

HES SO REAL FOR THAT PLS

once he sees how much you love it, he will make it a tradition for him to make you your very own piece every year

soon you have your own little boutique of hand crafted anklets and hip chains

that’s so romantic someone run me over

the boys tease him for being a simp, obviously but he can’t find it in him to feel embarrassed

not when he sees how happy you are

he’s well and truly smitten, but so are you so it’s all good

literally i would die for you both

[restinslices]

Yo, still waiting for that if Tomas was a sub one (canon tbh)

Cannot believe I forgot. Y’all can boo me

Imma just come out and say it. He's such a whiny sub

There are characters that give me dom vibes but I think them as subs would be fun. There are characters that give me switch vibes. Tomas gives me only sub vibes. I don't detect a dom in there. idk, that's just me tho

So needy and whiny it'd probably throw you off when you see him doing anything other than begging you to touch him 

Cannot handle teasing at all. He's ok with teasing you but breaks easily when you tease him 

Honestly he can't backup any of the shit he talks. 

One of those subs who need attention at all times. Even if you're not interacting with him, he still wants you in the area 

Kinks I think he'd have are barebacking, biting, humiliation (a HUGE one and imma stand on it), breath play, collaring (in private), impact play, sex toys and sensory deprivation 

I just feel like he's a slut in disguise. Where's my proof? I made it the fuck up. I'm doing this for US 

If you have female anatomy he's also getting pegged. IDC IDC 

Humiliation is a big one for him because he knows it's still a safe space. You can taunt him about how he's a slut, write things on him, make him get off with something unusual, ect. but at the end of day you still love him and it's all for fun. 

You can tell when he's needy ‘cause he's extremely close to you. He follows you around normally, but he's right on your heels 

To torture him more you can pretend you have no idea what he wants. He knows you know and you know he knows, but watching him try to ignore how he feels ‘cause he doesn't wanna say it out loud is priceless. 

He also has a tendency to say he can't take anymore but in reality he wants you to keep going. This is a big guy, he can take it. 

There's two good punishments for him; Cockwarming and overstimulation 

Cockwarming because he can't handle teasing. It's so simple but he can't stand it and doesn't know which is worse; when you're inside of him (actual dick or strapon, doesn't matter) or when he's inside of you. Either way, it doesn't take long for him to apologize for whatever he's done and beg you to fuck him already. 

For overstimulation he gets turned on and cums pretty easily so it wouldn't take that much to overstimulate him. 

These two go well together. Cockwarming then overstimulation as a “isn't this what you wanted?”

What would make this better is quizzing him on something. His brain stops working when he's horny so quizzing him on Lin Kuei principles or something else he for sure knows adds to it. 

He knows he knows the answer but his brain is a fog. It kinda puts the punishment in his hands but that adds to the torture. If he could figure this out, then you'd actually fuck him (or you'd stop fucking him if you do this while overstimulating him)

As I'm typing this I thought of another thing that can be both a punishment but also something he enjoys. Dryhumping. Listen to me and listen to me well-

I can see him coming up behind you when you're alone and rubbing against you to let you know he's needy. And if you told him to keep going, he'd cum but it's not what he really wants to do. 

So him being in trouble and being forced to rub against you but not be inside you or have you inside him would drive him nuts. 

Aftercare for him would be showering together, cuddling and reassuring him you didn't mean any of the negative things you said. Especially after an intense punishment, he needs to hear you don't actually think negatively of him and you love him. 

Also reading together depending on the day. Just something really chill to pull him back to reality. 

I just realized he has the least amount of words so here are afterthoughts to fix that

I know I've called him whiny multiple times but I genuinely think sometimes he can't even form coherent sentences. All that comes out are noises 

Tries not to pout but does so anyway 

He can get off just from giving head 

Loves you leaving marks on him as long as he can cover it up. He can't be scrapping and the enemy sees a hickey on his neck

Tries to sneakily break rules. For example, if a rule is “no touching yourself when I'm gone” he'll do it anyway and try to get rid of the evidence. He'll shower, change clothes, clean any toy he used and whatever else he has to do but you somehow always know. 

Tomas is not the best liar and has some habits he does when lying, like tapping his fingertips together so you find out that way or from actually catching him and pretending you didn’t

The type to break rules on purpose if you haven't been giving him attention and then be surprised when actions have consequences 

Will call you whatever title you prefer if you don't just wanna go by your name

Like his brothers, he for sure could just throw you off but he never does. It adds to the fun. He's a skilled assassin but if you said “jump” he'd ask “how high?”

The best sub to have if you want one whos so pathetically in love with you but can be a little shit sometimes 

Even after his punishments, he keeps apologizing to make sure you're not actually mad at him. 

Probably begs you to cum inside him anyway you can

I see him and start tweaking fr