#you will be staying in moons side of the resort

[sun-e-chips]

Will have to color later and illustrate some eye level perspectives but

Here’s the room you will be staying in at Waterspark Bay!!!

It’s killing me that the walls are the most interesting part but you can’t see them aaaaaaaaa

[cherie-doll]

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: You’ve Got Sleeping Issues

ᶻz Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Alejandro, Phillip Graves, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

‎܂ ｡ ༢ medicine isn’t enough i need someone to knock me out with a shovel (for all my insomniacs <3)

Ghost

Oh, what do two insomniacs do with each other on restless nights?

He used to be alone on these nights, listening to the ticking of the clock as the hours cruelly pass by without granting rest

Now you both sit in silence watching the reborning sun and it’s kind of enjoyable now

Pulls out a bottle of NyQuil and takes turns taking shots until either you or him or both simultaneously pass out

Soap

When he’s with you he wants to do everything with you; including sleeping

He’s visibly upset that you can’t sleep but he’s not mat at you, he’s mad at whatever prevents you to cuddle next to him under a heap of blanket and pillows at night

You’re often tossing and turning in bed, fidgeting with your hands as you pace around the bedroom that it wakes him

You try and coax him to go back to sleep but he’s up and determined to stay up with you bingewatching tv shows, trying weird snack combinations, etc…

Gaz

Tries out everything to get you to sleep

From adjusting your routine to diet choices before bed

He knows you hate taking pills and it’s the last thing you resort to by doctor’s orders

He adjusts your pillows and blankets on your side of the bed, letting you rest your head on his shoulder as you drift off to sleep

Gently cradles your head as he lays you down on your back

And doesn’t sleep until he hears your breaths change and the pulsation of your heart, at ease knowing you’re finally resting

Alejandro

You have terrible nightmares that prevent you from getting a peaceful sleep

Anytime you awaken in a panic; cold sweat, hands seizing and tugging at your shirt, feeling your heart thumping wildly in your chest

He wakes up right away upon hearing your quickened breaths

“It’s alright, I’m right here cariño”

Touching foreheads, light touches on your arms and neck to sooth you, holds you close to him, intertwining fingers

Taking you to the window where you can observe the moon, “see the moon? Look at how she shines… focus on her lustre.”

Phillip Graves

Turning over in bed, his arms searching for you only to find you in a slouched position

“Hard time falling asleep doll?” He drags out his words, words slurring together from having just woken up

When you whimper and nod he pulls you down with him, his hands pulling you against his chest and placing sweet and comforting kisses on your head as he caresses your hair, softly humming

Spooning you is one of his fave ways to feel your body against his, wants to feel as if he’s protecting you and wishes he could lull your mind

Keegan

Knows you’re likely to fall asleep at random times of the day due to fatigue

With a tap of his finger on your wrist he’ll signal for you to rest your head on his lap

He’ll take to trailing his hand up and down your back, following the outline of your spine with his index finger, slower and more deliberately

Speaks very low and softly to give you reassurance he’s there, leans down and places a soft kiss on your cheek once you’ve fallen asleep

König

He takes one look at you and immediately knows you did not sleep

And yet, even if you watched the moon descend and the sun rise your cherub eyes are as loving and warm as they meet his

Whilst he was asleep, you inched closed and wrapped his strong arms around your body

Now he’s awoken to holding what he considers dear, you, enfolded in his arms gently

Cuddles and stays curled up next to you until you drift off to sleep, even if it’s only for a little bit

Horangi

At night, before bed he prepares teas, warms milk and anything else he can think of to get you to sleep

As daybreak enfolds he finds you yet again with dimmed eyes, signaling you did not sleep

You feel as if a river rushes through your bones as he strokes your back in circles, whispering softly in your ear

The soft, golden glow of the sun makes this scenery seem dreamy as your eyelids feel heavier

He watches until you fall asleep and subtly slips out of your arms, tucking you into bed and closing the curtains to let you sleep in and catch up on your sleep

Nikto

He’s either out like a rock or is tossing and turning unable to quiet his mind

In the silence, thinking you’re asleep, he reaches out to your form to engulf in your warmth only to find you awake when he glances at your face

You open your eyes and he freezes, already starting to retreat before you clutch his hand close, not letting go

“Sorry…for waking you” he mumbles, before you tell him you can’t sleep either

He’s silent for a moment before he softly says, “come closer” so he’s spooning you as you inhale his scent and fall asleep, your body rising with every breath; you’re like his stuffed animal 〜(⸝⸝o̴̶̷᷄ ·̭ o̴̶̷̥᷅⸝⸝)♡

[moonsaver]

Morning Sunlight

What are mornings like with the mysterious Head of the Oak Family? Not many know. But you, his lover, has the pleasure of knowing how to answer that question in many ways. One memory of dozens comes to mind.

A/n; just a drabble I wrote about mornings with sunday because i wanted some slightly domestic fluff. Its very small.

Cw/tw: implied to be bad at cooking (reader) body pain (reader), mentions of chest but no mentions of boobs (you're welcome), sunday being clingy, overall fluffy. Just 2 mentions of peeing.

Mornings with sunday are fortuitous

And by that, you mean, you get to see the elusive, prestigious head of the Oak family sleeping.

And you get to spoon him.

Isnt this lovely?

Your nose is tucked into his blue hair, a few strands stick up and tickle your face. You shift, to which Sunday responds by burying his face deeper into your chest, adjusting the hold of his arms around you.

You blink your eyes open, slightly blurry still from last night's sleep. You reach up one of your hands to gently pet the top of his hair.

You've recently taken to calling him "star" as a joke. You just called him "Sun" initially as a form of endearment and shortened his name, then simply resorted to calling him star. Although, you suppose he's more like the moon. You should ask him when he's woken up.

You shift again in bed, before stilling,

Ouch.

Something just pulled in your back.

"[Name]?" Sunday's muffled, soft voice curiously speaks,

Oops.

"Did I wake you?"

You whisper back to him, one of your hands immediately going down to sift through his feathers, soothing his fluttering wings as he stirs awake. He lifts his head slightly. Golden, half-lidded eyes look up at you.

"Not at all. Did you sleep wrong?"

One of his hands moves up your back, going over to your side and resting there, his thumb massaging the outline of your shoulder blade.

"I might have. Probably pulled a muscle?"

Sunday's head gently dives down, taking shelter back into the haven of your chest. He stays still for a moment before his body pushes, and his hand stretches out to reach the drawer behind you. You look over to see shaking, outstretched fingers barely make it to the handle, and stifle your laugh. It escapes as a snort.

Sunday stills for a moment. Then sighs, before pushing further and managing to open the drawer. You see his hands teeter around and feels the various items before landing on a pain relief tube.

He pushes the drawer close, and returns to his original place, the force of his body retreating from you.

You close your eyes, burying your nose into the top of his head again. He smells nice, you note.

You hear the faint click of a cap, and it's not soon before Sunday's deft finger crawls under your shirt and over the skin of your back. It presses the gel on the outline of your shoulder blade, and firmly presses into the cavity beside it, massaging it well. Once he's done massaging it for a few minutes, his finger retreats, and his hand returns to its place on your back. His thumb caresses the outline of your shoulder blade again.

“Planning to wake up anytime soon, handsome?”

“A few more minutes, dear.”

He shifts again, his face moving from the home of your chest to the curve of your neck, and he presses soft kisses on your skin. Everything about him is warm. You scrunch your nose as the feathers of his wings slightly tickle your nose.

“Star.”

“Mmh?”

His hummed response reverberates slightly in your neck,

“I need to use the washroom.”

“My condolences.”

“Sun.”

“Truly unfortunate.”

You sigh. Sunday softly chuckles, the noise muffled.

“5 more minutes.”

“I won't have to go if you keep me here that long.”

“3.”

“Cutting it close.”

“That's fine.”

“Sunday.”

It's his turn to sigh, except, he doesn't. He stays quiet for a few minutes. When he doesn't shift or respond, you get nervous,

“Sunday?”

…

You try again,

“You're so quiet.”

“I've heard acting dead can deter brown bears from attacking.”

The imagery is too bold in your mind as he says so.

“Now, now.”

You tap the top of his head, trying to get him to budge.

“Were you implying something with that?”

“No. But, do you think I'd survive, if I acted dead?”

“Perhaps.”

You push against Sunday, again.

“Sunday, it's been 5 minutes”

“2, to be precise.”

“I'm gonna pee in 2 more.”

“Tragic.”

“Sunday.”

He stays quiet again. Then shifts with a sigh, moving off of you and onto the other edge of the bed. Is he pouting?

–

Your morning is now well under way. The sizzling in the kitchen is loud in your ears as you handle the pan over the stove.

A pair of white wings cover your eyes. Slightly damp at the edges, you note. His face presses up next to yours, the skin cooler in comparison. Sandalwood fills your nose and the kitchen.

“Done, hm?”

You chuckle, as his wings retract.

“I'll manage the rest, dove.”, his voice is clearer than before. You admit, to a degree, you miss the sleepiness in his voice.

He cups your face, both of his thumbs coming up to soothingly run along the edge of your eyes,

“My eyes are really crusty.”

“I'm trying to help.”

“Not gross?”

“Not at all. I don't mind.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“What about my cooking?”

Sunday gently pecks the corner of your mouth.

“Go wash your face, angel.”

You laugh a bit. The sound echoes in the quiet of your kitchen. The air is fresh and still from the morning, sunlight pours in from the open windows. And Sunday treasures the isolated sound, repeating in his mind.

–

[bonefall]

I know you talked about Crowfeather's abuse to Breezepelt, but are you keeping Nightcloud's physical abuse against Crowfeather? In all their arguments, Nightcloud is the only one who ever gets physical with Crow. In the books, she rakes her claws against him a few times drawing blood. If I had been young Breeze and had seen that it'd be one of the things that would make me do my best to be and stay in my mother's good graces. Yeah, my dad may smack me but he never cuts me, never leaves me open for death by infection.

When?

Have you read the books you're confidently citing right now? Or did you hear this from some amoeba and then didn't check it before coming into my house

POWER OF THREE:

The Sight: 13 mentions. Takes Breezepaw's side in a small verbal argument, then scolds him for xenophobia. Is scared her only child almost died and insists on carrying him alone. Upset when Leafpool makes a flirtatious comment to her husband, soothes two kids to sleep

Dark River: 4 mentions. Exists on a patrol and Leafpool is jealous of her.

Outcast: 1 mention. Nicely says goodbye to Crowfeather as he stares off into the distance thinking about Feathertail.

Eclipse: 1 mention. Takes part in the eclipse battle with the rest of WindClan.

Long Shadows: Unmentioned.

Sunrise: 4 mentions. Hears the reveal at the gathering and looks "bewildered and angry." Crowfeather tells her that he, "Has no kits other than Breezepelt" and she pins her ears against her head.

Was it here? In one of these 23 mentions across 6 books? PLEASE point out the "Cuts Me, Leaving Me Open For Death By Infection." I'm SO curious.

OMEN OF THE STARS:

The Fourth Apprentice: Unmentioned.

Fading Echoes: 1 mention. Thinks Dovepaw disguised her scent.

Night Whispers: 6 mentions. Argues with Crowfeather at Gatherings. Leafpool comes across a fight between Breezepelt and Lionblaze and pleads to Crowfeather, "How can you watch your sons fight?!" Nightcloud jumps forward glaring, repeats that her husband has no kits other than Breezepelt. Leafpool jumps in front of a Breezepelt lunge. Crowfeather jumps in, grabs his son, and "throws him aside like prey" before bitterly mocking another love confession from Leafpool. Nightcloud drags Crowfeather off. Crowfeather turns on Nightcloud, hissing, and Breezepelt jumps between them and says, "leave my mother alone." Warns them, "Next time, we'll shred you!" Later says something rude about RiverClan at a Gathering.

Sign of the Moon: Unmentioned.

The Forgotten Warrior: 2 mentions. Glares at Hollyleaf twice.

The Last Hope: 6 mentions. Is on a patrol that finds Jayfeather in a thornbush and glares at him. Then Crowfeather says it was all actually HER fault that Breezepelt turned out to be such a little brat.

Which one of these 9 MENTIONS ACROSS 6 BOOKS are we going for, today? Was it the part in Night Whispers? Is THAT where she Cuts His Life Into Pieces This Is Her Last Resort?

Let's play I-Spy 🔎! Highlight all the places Nightcloud "draws blood!"

Which of the following characters in this passage are bleeding? Is Crowfeather any of them 🤔? No?

Is it here? Is it this part? Which of these cats are bleeding? Is it Crowfeather🪶? Is it Lionblaze🦁? Is it beloved Character Actress Margot Martindale💃?

Oh? You mean to tell me that you were misrepresenting a cat dragging away another cat as "RAKING HER CLAWS AGAINST HIM DRAWING BLOOD AND LEAVING HIM OPEN FOR INFECTIONS TO DIE"?

In other words, a lie?

Pulling a big lever and sending you down into The Nightcloud Derangement Pit. I will be further woobifying her unencumbered. The Nightcloud Agenda will spread. Soon we will take the west coast.

[louscartridge]

bang chan with a reader who has daddy issues

bang chan x fem reader

cw- daddy issues and everything that comes with it (duh), mentions of sex and cockwarming, fluff, comfort.

a/n- whenever I see things with chan and daddy issues, its never actually daddy issues, its always just a daddy kink or whatever, yk? so this ones for all my stays with daddy issues out there 😞

❥ at first he'd think it was a bit strange, and he was a little confused. however, he wasn't surprised.

Chan had always had a good father, and he'd like to think he'd also be a good one, so he never understood how a dad could just be so rejectful towards their own child, but he knew that sadly, some of them are.

❥ you didn't even have to tell him about you daddy issues for him to eventually realize it. to be completely honest, he didn't ever know if you knew you had them.

❥ it was the way that you would grasp onto his arm, or get weirdly overly excited about small things, and some of your worries or things you would say that made him realize.

❥ but he knows that its the small things that you'd go over the moon for. he'd make sure you guys had movie nights, weather it would be with just the two of you, or the rest of his group, game nights, ect. he knows sometimes going out could be a bit overwhelming for you, so he'd try his best to cook for you. chan would also brush your hair every once and a while.... not only does he know you sometimes have trouble doing it yourself, but he also knows that it brings you some sense of comfort.

❥ one night you told him that you prefer to go to sleep when everyone was awake cause it gave you some sense of security, but you hated how alone you felt when you stayed up all by yourself. so now, he makes sure that you're asleep before he is. he'd lay there with you in his arms awake, for however long it takes for you to fall asleep before he does himself.

❥ Chan is so good at reassurance and reading you omg. he can tell when you're having your doubts.... weather you're feeling particularly insecure in the moment, or you're scared that he's gonna leave you, he can always tell. he's so good with his words, and his tone changes slightly whenever he's reassuring you in these moments. his 'i love you' somehow sounding so much softer then it usually does, along with his eyes looking much softer too.

❥ he doesn't want you to push yourself away cause you think he's gonna leave, hell always encourage you to talk to him. if you cant come out and say what you need, hell hint to the convo or start it himself.

using words face to face could be hard, he gets that. when you're too embarrassed to verbally talk to him about it, hell give you a piece of paper, and you could write what you need to on it, and give it to him whenever you're done. he'd never tell you when you needed to write on it though, that was all in your own time. even if you never gave it back to him, he just wants you to know that its always there for you to use and give to him.

❥ speaking of Chan being good at reading you, he can tell when you actually want sex or not. half the time, it's the look in your eyes. they're different, and glassy. not in a needy way or anything, but in a way where you look worried, scared, like you're about to cry.

sometimes you also use sex as a form of reassurance, but he needs you to know that you don't ever need to have sex with him just cause you think it'll make him stay. sometimes the two of you would just resort to cock warming if you really need to feel close to him, but hell try his best to turn you away.

"princess not right now." he'd say with his hands on both sides of your face, pulling you away.

"but daddy-"

"no, baby, im sorry. I'm always gonna be here tomorrow, and the next day, and every other day after, ok? I promise. I love you so much."

"always gonna be here." you'd nod to yourself with a small sniff.

❥ he understands that it might take you a bit to trust him, but he's so patient with gaining your trust. hell do everything he can to get it, and continue to do everything to keep it.

❥ Chan himself is a little possessive and get jealous easily, so he has no problem with that. what he does have a problem with, is the fact that half the time you're acting that way cause you think he's gonna leave or cheat on you. he'd never in a million years do either of those, and it breaks him whenever he thinks that you feel that. he never wants his baby to feel that way ever, but he knows there's not much he can do other then give you everything he has, and time.

you like that your boyfriend can be jealous and possessive tho. whenever he gets that way, you know for sure that he won't leave you. you are his, and he is yours. only and always.

❥ sometimes though, Chan does just need some space. there's nothing wrong with that, you know that. but you cant help but feel bad. 'was I too clingy? was I being annoying? oh god, he's gonna break up with me isn't he.' chan knows that's what you're gonna be thinking, so he always tells you a few days beforehand.

"babe, me and Felix are going somewhere on Thursday morning. I'll be back around 2:00 tho. ok?"

"why are you coming back so late?" you furrow your eyebrows.

"its a long drive is all"

he always comes back with flowers, or a stuffed animal, or something of the sort when he gets back. he'll text you and keep you updated whenever you can on days like that.

❥ since you're constantly around chan, you've gotten mad close to the guys. sometimes you find it funny, the group of you talking about how chan is always gushing about you, sometimes teasing him.

once you trust them enough, Hyunjin and Felix have field days with you telling them little things and details about your relationship.

[beautifulpaprika]

Rage; Jungkook

Pairing: serialkiller!fem!reader x cleaner!jungkook

Warnings: smut :), mentions of blood, mentions of murder

Summary: Y/N holds a lot of rage for men who betray her. She's killed ex-boyfriends over and over without a second thought. Her friend, Eileen, grows worried for her and resorts to bringing back her first love to get Y/N back to her senses.

Word count: 4.1k

Y/N

I press my fingers into his cold skin. His unmoving eyes look into mine and I smile. 

“Maybe you’ll think twice in hell before you stay out all night,” I tell him, dragging a nail down his stubble, “But at least you won’t be here to torture me anymore.” 

I finally stand and take out my phone, dialing Eillen’s number. My finger drags across his desk in the corner of his living room where a photo of him and I sit. I recall the memory of us going to his grandmother’s birthday and he introduced me to all his dear friends and family. Little did they know he was a sneak and a liar! 

A buzzing in my mind rackets through my head then the sound of glass shattering pulls me out of my anger and the picture frame hits the ground.

“Y/N?” Eilleen calls through the phone. 

“Eileen!” I put on a smile hearing my best friend’s voice. 

“It’s midnight. What-“

”It happened again,” I say, crouching back to my ex’s dead body. There's silence on the other side. “You know what he told me yesterday? ‘Oh, I don’t wanna go out with my friends! I’ll be so worried about you!’,” I scoff. “Well, that was a lie,” I give a small kick to the corpse, “Not a call. Or text. Or-“

”How long are you going to do this?” She asks, her voice a whisper. I think on the question, contemplating the answer and whether I should tell her the truth or what she wants. 

“Eileen, they deserve it! Every single one. Don’t forget I used this power for you too,” I argue, recalling Peter Fent. A disaster they called a man who tortured my best friend relentlessly. Even thinking about his face wants to make me vomit. 

“And you know I regret that! We shouldn’t have-“ 

“Eileen. We’ve been on the receiving end of this hurt so many times, and what happens to them? Nothing!” Tears well up in my eyes when I think of all of my past experiences in the dating world. “So, I’ll do it.”

”Aren’t you tired?” She asks. “Instead of purposely looking for those sour ones, why not find someone who can treat you well? Someone you can settle down with? You don’t have to go around playing vigilante!” 

The truth is I am tired. If he had just told me who he was going with! Or even letting me know he was okay! But he didn’t care about me and that’s clear in the fact he was ignoring me. 

“I’m going to send you an address,” I tell her matter of factly, not letting her respond or say no. “Send your guy and I’ll have his money by tomorrow.” Before she can say anything else, I press the red button, cutting her off of any noise. 

“Rest easy, my love,” I kiss my man on the forehead and wave to him as I leave. 

I wait until I’m outside and walking down the long driveway. The crickets call to me, cheering on as I swipe through the dating app. Left, left, left, right, left, right. The moon shines it’s spotlight on me, the crickets continue to cheer, and I search for my next catch. 

*** 

Jungkook

“I’m glad we get to talk in proper conversation for once,” Eileen slides in the booth across from me. She looks neither happy nor upset to see me. 

“I have to say, seeing you brings both good and bad memories,” I admit. Eileen was Y/N’s best friend. Or is? I don’t keep up too much with too many people from my past. Especially not best friends of my exes.

“I admit that I feel the same way,” she’s about to say more when a waitress walks over asking for our drinks. I take that moment to think of all the questions I have - the first being why I was invited here. 

The waitress walks away, her eyes lingering on me as she walks. 

“I need your help,” Eileen whispers, her face closer to mine from across the table. 

“Why me?”

“I think you’re the only one who can help her. She’s-” we’re interrupted again by the same waitress setting down our cokes. 

“Ready to order?” she asks.

“Just the drinks, thanks,” I say. She looks slightly disappointed and Eileen doesn’t try hiding her rolling eyes. I give her a sheepish smile and she finally walks away. 

“Nothing much has changed with you, huh?” she keeps her eyes on the back of the girl walking away. Memories of girls flirting with me while Y/N was around comes to the forefront of my mind. 

“We won’t focus on that. You said you needed help, so what is it?” I take a long sip of the carbonated drink. 

“You’ve probably already guessed this is about Y/N.” I don’t tell her that I have. “She’s been having,” she pauses, “issues,” her face winces at the word. It intrigues me enough to lean in more. “Her love life is complicated,” she laughs, “And you’re the only person I can think of where she holds no resentment towards.” 

The mention of Y/N’s love life gives me chills. The thought of her with someone else, despite it being so many years, is a punch to the gut. I imagine her eyes near- shut while she’s laughing to some other guy’s joke. I imagine her holding him tight when they’re watching a movie. I imagine the headboard hitting the wall over and over again when he-

“I know it’s weird to ask this of you,” Eileen’s voice brings me out of the infuriating images, “but if you have any interest in seeing her again, or. . . anything,” there’s a desperation to her voice and before she can say anything else - 

“Yes.” 

She’s silent for a moment. 

“You’re willing to meet her?” her jaw hangs over her drink. 

“I wanna see her again. I really do,” I add the most sincerity that I can to my voice, because if Eileen is asking for her then she must not have a partner right now. “She doesn’t have a boyfriend, right?” I double-check.

“No. No not at all. She just went through a really, really,” she gulps, “bad break-up.” That makes me worry a bit. “But she’ll be happy to see you,” her head moves up and down quickly. I start wondering what exactly it is I’m getting myself into. 

***

Y/N

It seems that Eileen has come around. I was going through many boring messages of “You showered without me?”’s and “What’s your favorite season?”’s, when my best friend’s name appeared at the top saying “I think I have the perfect man for you. One I’m certain you won’t boot into oblivion ;)”

It made my day to know Eileen isn’t as upset with me. Not only that, but she’s making my life a lot easier with setups. 

The smell of bread and garlic wafts my face when I open the door to the pizzaria. 

My phone vibrates. A message appearing from an unknown number:

This is Y/N, right? 

I’m your date tonight. <3

I went ahead and got a table for us. Let me know when you’re here. 

Hm. Nice punctuation and he’s early? Eileen should set me up more often. 

I’m here 🙂 In the blue dress.

I look around, waving off the host in the process. I don’t spot anyone making eye contact with me, that is until I look to my right where a man in a black button up and black dress pants is walking towards me. His steps slow when we make eye contact and I almost collapse to the ground. 

This is a joke. Eileen has lost her fucking mind and decided this would be funny. 

“Don’t,” I whisper. I cover my mouth when it comes out too raspy and hold a hand out to stop him. I feel the sting in my eyes and my embarrassment heightens. The smell of Italian food is gone and the fresh air and city noise drowns me. 

“Y/N,” the voice comes behind me. 

“No!” I move through people on the sidewalk looking at us.

“Y/N, stop!” 

But I don’t. 

A grip on my arm pulls me back and my back meets the hard, brick wall. People are no longer looking, most likely thinking Jungkook is not one to be messed with by the ink adorning his arms and his neck. But I already know he isn’t dangerous. 

“What was that?” his breath fans my face. 

“What did Eileen say to you, hm? That you need to fix me?” I push on his chest, but it has little to no effect on him other than making him annoyed. 

“She approached me,” he says, and I scoff, “Let me finish,” his voice is calm. “I am the one who wanted to see you. Me! I wasn’t forced. I wasn’t paid. I wanted to do this.” 

“You’re lying!”

”I’m not.” 

“Why would you want to see me? I’m the one who broke up with you. I left you. Don’t you hold any resentment?” my face starts stinging again and the tears well in my eyes at the thought of him calling me for months after I told him I didn’t want him anymore. After I lied to him.

His mouth opens and I anticipate the words “I do hate you” ready to leave him. 

“Let’s go somewhere more private,” his voice is low. I chuckle. 

”Why? Are you embarrassed?” 

“Y/N. You know I’ve never felt embarrassed about you. Not back then and not now.” I believe him. But I don’t want to. “Please, can we go somewhere?” His hand rests on my cheek so naturally. I imagine myself falling into him and going back to how we were before.

***

”This is it,” I say waving him inside my apartment. 

His head moves up, down, left, and right examining every bit and it gives me time to examine him in return. How his shoulders are broader, his hair a bit messier, and those tattoos that weren’t there before. Even the way he walks is different. He was always handsome, but now he’s ethereal. 

“Your place looks better than mine,” he laughs. Just another thing to add to the list of things that Jungkook does that makes me melt. “We already knew you’d be the better decorator,” it aches to think about the times when we talked about buying our own place or the past at all. 

The two years I had been with Jungkook were my best years. He was so attentive and I never had to worry if he was around. I only had to say something once and he was very considerate of my needs. Not a single complaint came out of his mouth and that was what one day led to my biggest worry. I started to doubt everything that he did for me because I could not uncover the why. 

He was the best boyfriend I’d ever had and yet made me so insecure because I couldn’t understand why he was being so nice. 

“You can have a seat anywhere,” I tell him. He follows me to the kitchen where a small dining table sits by the wall. ”What all has Eileen told you about me?” I ask while pouring the two cups of water. I place one in front of him and sit across the table. 

“She told me you just needed a bit of help. The rest I don’t remember ‘cause I was focused on the fact I would get to see you again,” a smirk appears on his lips. “I am not disappointed. You’re more beautiful than before,” his eyes meet mine causing my chest to constrict. I’ve been searching for this feeling of being wanted, and while my other boyfriends have given me that feeling (may they rest in peace), it only lasted for the first date. With Jungkook, it was constant. 

“You’re more handsome than ever,” his smile reaches his eyes at the compliment. A laugh escapes me.

”What?”

 “I’m just wondering what the catch is,” his head tilts, “Are you married? You’re looking for a place to stay? You have a gambling addiction and you need money? Why would you want to come back to me?” He laughs at my questions, but the image of him being married to someone else pushes me to take a sip of water at the heat boiling inside. 

“Well, the answer is none of the above. I do have a catch, though. I’m not sure how honest you want me to be.” 

“You know I want you to always be honest with me. The most you can,” I think of the liars in the past whose bodies are lying graves now. 

“I’m obsessed with you,” his tone is serious and he isn’t smiling like he was before. “I can’t touch another girl without thinking ‘What if this had been Y/N?’” My heart doesn’t seem to know what to do with this information. “You can probably already guess I’ve been searching for you for a very long time. After a while of trying to call you, I guess you changed your number and I couldn’t contact you anymore.”

I recall changing my number, not wanting to be upset every time I looked at my phone and his number would always pop up. It caused regret for weeks and I couldn’t deal with it anymore. 

“I won’t lie and say I haven’t researched much about you. When Eileen contacted me I had already been in the city,” he moves to get up from his chair and rounds the table to me. A warmth seeps from his hand to my cheek. I relax into the familiarity of his touch. “I’ve been in the city for a long time,” he leans in and I mirror him, wondering if he’s going to kiss me, but he moves to my ear instead. “Who do you think cleans up all of your messes?” 

I jerk backwards in my seat. 

“What did you just say?” I whisper. 

“You never believed me when I said I would do anything for you. I was telling the truth, Y/N. I think I’ve proven myself whenever I cleaned your spilled blood,” his words leave me speechless. My throat is dry and my tongue is heavier sitting in my mouth. The new information leaves me spinning. It’s all too quick for me to process in one day. 

“I need a minute,” I push him aside and make my way past the living room and down the hall into my bedroom. Drowsiness takes me and I lie down on the bed, resting my eyes. 

***

Light bleeds through my eyelids, eyes staring down at me. 

“Y/N? Was I boring you too much?” That deep, familiar voice says. Jungkook has a smirk painted on his face and I’m in disbelief that I took a nap! 

I pick myself up making sure I’m still in my apartment. Jungkook is unpredictable in my eyes now that he’s fessed up to everything. 

“I brought some water in case you were still feeling faint,” he picks up a bottle from the night stand with a few crackers sitting next to it. He still does the same thing that he always has when I feel sick. 

“Jungkook . . .”

“You can’t say this is crazy,” he chuckles. “You’ve killed people before. We’re practically a team already.”

“Yes, but I didn’t think I would personally know who else is involved in these shenanigans,” I feel faint again imagining him drag bodies down stairs and mopping spilled blood. 

“You mean the shenanigans you created?”

“I mean me not letting any man lie, cheat, steal, or cause any form of harm to me again. Not without paying consequences. That includes you,” I say, not sure if it is a threat when I do, but knowing I’ve set my boundary with him. Whether I truly want that boundary is up in the air. 

“And have I ever done any of that to you?” He asks the question with worry on his face rather than trying to find ways to defend himself. I can’t look him in the eye when he asks the question because I don’t have an answer that would prove him wrong. 

“You made me nervous,” I say, my voice quiet. The embarrassment is palpable. “You were always handsome and everyone around us knew it,” I finally look up at him. “I’m not saying I didn’t think I was beautiful enough for you, I mean look at me,” I gesture to myself and he laughs but nods in agreement. “But there was that one night you were talking to your friends. You made all these plans before with them, and then I heard you say ‘I’m gonna have to change everything now that I have Y/N.’ Do you remember that?” 

His eyes narrow as he thinks but it seems to click when he’s about to respond. \

“I didn’t realize how much I was holding you back until then. We were on different paths and you should have-” 

“Stop, stop, stop,” his hands wave in the air. “You never told me this,” he gets up- his arms crossing over his chest. “Why didn’t you mention this? We could have talked about it!” I notice his voice raising so I get up from the bed as well ready to defend myself. 

“You would have said it was a stupid reason! You would have told everyone how ridiculous I was being. It was better that you didn’t know,” I explain. 

“You’re right. It is ridiculous. It kills me that you didn’t think I would want a change, especially if it’s with you,” I try to come up with a response but nothing comes. “You’re killing these guys because of miscommunications and yet here you are doing it with me.” The mention of him knowing about my slaughters makes me faint again. 

“It was years ago, Jungkook. Who knows if I would have done the same thing now?” I wave him off and turn to walk out of the bedroom that feels suffocating now. Before I can step out, the door swings close and my front is pressed to the door, his is pressed to my back. 

“Communicate, Y/N,” his lips lower to my ear, kissing a spot behind it. A shiver races down my spine. 

“I don’t know what else to say,” my voice wavers and I curse myself for showing him my weakness. I feel a heat on my waist when his hand meets my waist. My head leans back when his lips move to my neck. 

“What do you want with me now?” his other hand moves to my ass. “More?” he turns me to face him and I can feel the wetness in between my legs when I’m forced to move. I’ve had sex before since Jungkook, but I haven’t felt like I was going to collapse in anticipation until now. “Or are you going to tell me to stop?” his finger slides down the middle of my chest, tracing the line of my cleavage. 

“S-” I almost tell him to stop, but I can’t. I want him. I need him. Forever. 

“Communicate,” his leg slides between mine, finally giving me some kind of friction. I rest my head back on the door and wrap my hands around his neck when he moves his leg on me. 

“I want you, Jungkook,” I’m breathless now. “Right now and for the rest - ah!” I gasp when his fingers slide the straps of my dress down and his mouth is already on my nipple. “For the rest of my life,” I manage to push out. He moans on my nipple when I pull his hair, the vibrations being another sensation muddying my brain. 

“I’ll show you what you’re getting for the rest of your life,” his knees meet the ground and I make eye contact with him as he lifts my dress. Our eyes break when his head hides under the fabric, and I can’t see anything, but feel when he kisses my thighs. He lifts one of my legs onto his shoulder, kissing the inside of my thighs now. I grow impatient and push his head. His chuckle slides against my thighs and I’m about to scold him when I feel a tongue sliding through my lips. 

“Oh God,” I  whisper. My head hits the door as I moan. His tongue swirls and sucks on me and I thank every shooting star for Jungkook and how amazing he is at making me feel good. I have missed the feeling of non-rushed sex with love and care mixed in. 

He stays under me for another minute as I indulge in the wet muscle until he peaks out of the dress and pulling it down.

When he stands, I rush to take the button off of his jeans and pull them down his legs followed by his boxers. His hand rests on my cheek as I come back up. 

The kiss he plants on me is searing. Our lips mesh perfectly into a rhythm. Both of his hands slide down to my waist then onto my ass. I jump, wrapping my legs around his waist. I hold back on grinding myself into his erection as he sits on the edge of the bed. He pulls away and pushes a hair behind my ear. 

“I want you to do something that we never did,” he whispers into my mouth. A million possibilities run through my head, my pussy aching at all of them. 

“What’s that?” I nudge my nose into his before he pulls away again by lying down. 

“Ride me,” he says. It’s a simple request but it’s one that makes my stomach drop. I’ve never been one to be on top. I always wanted my boyfriends to show me they wanted me by putting the work on. It was selfish on every level, but it helped my own self esteem. But this is Jungkook. I would do anything for him at this point. 

I don’t say anything else, only place myself onto his hard dick. I drag my wetness on him putting my hands on his still clothed chest. I drag my fingers onto the buttons and pluck every single one undone. Once I’m able to take his shirt off I drag my tongue up his chest and onto his neck. He holds my ass and grinds up into me, earning a moan into his ear. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he sighs. I’ve missed the way he sounded. 

I bring myself back up, breathless. 

“My dress,” I point out the garment still on me, getting up to take it off.

“Don’t,” he demands, grabbing my hand. “Keep it on. You look sexy as hell in it.” The compliment makes my heart soar. 

I hover over him, grabbing his dick. It slides so easily inside of me. 

“Fuck,” he moans, “You feel perfect,” he whispers. I relish the way he still holds my ass and moan out loud when I start to move. He helps by meeting me in the middle as I bounce on him. I can’t help my ego growing when he licks his lips as I move. 

I realize I’m fucked when I look at him. Literally and figuratively. He could do anything and I would never kill him. Is it the bare minimum not to kill your partner? To other people, yes.

The pace moves faster and his hand slides down, sliding a finger through me, then rubbing at my clit and that moves my body to the edge. 

“I- I think I-” 

“Let’s do it together, baby,” his pet name pushes me and I cry out when I climax. He sits up and groans into my mouth when he fills me up. We ride the high for a few more seconds before I come off of him and we lie down, wrapping ourselves into the blanket. 

I wrap an arm around his waist and kiss his cheek.

“Does this mean I won’t have to clean blood anymore?” he asks. I punch him in the chest at the tease as he laughs. 

“Very funny. But as long as you don’t break my heart then I suppose not,” I respond seriously. 

“You won’t have to worry then,” there’s a smug smirk painted on his face as I roll my eyes. 

“Oh!” I quickly rush out of bed. 

“What is it?” 

“I have to pee!” I rush to the bathroom as he laughs. I peek out the bathroom door and tell him, “I’ve missed you.” 

He smiles gently at me, his hands resting behind his head. “I’ve missed you more.” 

[leiatalon]

Ink and Intrigue: Romantasy IF (WIP)

Sail to a lush island of warrior-mages where dragon runes grant immortality and love runs deep. When mystery tempts, how do you answer?

Ink an Intrigue is a standalone Heart’s Choice IF fantasy WIP set in the same world as Their Majesties' Pleasure.

This game has gone to copy edit! This is the last stage before it's published! 🎉

Plunge into a world where magic calls the passion in your soul. Join a clan of immortal warrior-mages and choose your kindred: a powerful dragon, a shapeshifting griffin, or a blue-lightning phoenix.

As you train to become a warrior-mage, do you romance or befriend a tattoo artist, a feisty initiate, a playful sage, or a maverick with an unfulfilled quest?

You’ve been a spy for the kingdom of Minare since you were ten, when the king deemed you too clever and sent you off for training. Now a seasoned spy, you’re sent to infiltrate the Kitherin warrior-mages, whose tattoos give them supernatural abilities and whose blood rites bond them to powerful creatures from another world.

When the call of the Kitherin sounds in your soul, what paths will you take as an initiate?

Shop from the finest market in the nine seas, surf azure waves, and dance at a full moon celebration where you might indulge in magical elixirs and intimate moments. Get dragon rune tattoos and learn to wield their power, show your prowess on the sparring field, and soar in the skies of the otherworld. Arrange a marriage alliance, meddle in the affairs of the mage council, incite a lawful rebellion, or resort to poison to get what you want.

Will you confess the clandestine role you’ve played for your king, or keep your secrets and let the past die? No matter what you’ve done, your lover will stay by your side. When you pass your initiations and bond with your kindred, you will be joining the ranks of the Kitherin warrior-mages who bring balance to the interconnected worlds.

Romance a passionate artist, a Fae-blooded sage, a sassy diva, or a master warrior.

Play as male, female, or nonbinary; gay, straight, bi, or asexual.

Choose high-heat or sweet options, or avoid spicy scenes entirely.

Dive through portals and explore other worlds.

Bond with a dragon, a griffin, or a phoenix.

Indulge in magic elixirs and delectable food.

Apprentice as a tattoo artist and learn about dragon runes.

Go surfing with your friends beneath a full moon and watch the sun rise over the sea.

Explore a steamy island paradise crowned with temples, magnificent gardens, and a hidden library.

Forge alliances as an emissary, gather intelligence as a spy, decide the fate of a maleficent mage, and shape the leadership of the Kitherin.

Uncover the mysteries of the Kitherin and discover the soul-deep love that awaits!

Keep an eye on this blog for updates or check out the CoG forum thread.

[write-here-n-now]

What to do when you've crossed a line?

C.(S). Jeonghan x Reader | WC. 821 | G. Angst| Pt. 1/? |

Part 2 | Part 3

You were used to your best friend’s antics. His “cheating”, the pranks and general everyday shenanigans but also the kind-hearted soul and caring nature he hid behind every antic. You didn’t know where along the way your feelings matured into a storm of butterflies whenever he came in sight. You could kid yourself into thinking that everyone cared that much about their friends, best friends even, and the feelings would pass. How many months does an average crush last? At least 37 months, right? You were simply guessing and definitely not keeping track of how many times he caused you to stay awake thinking of a fantasy future. 

Having feelings for your best friend was one thing, holding yourself back from giving the side eye to every person who flirted with him was another feat. How often had these moments been replayed, hot person flirts with Jeonghan, he entertains them, and you remain in the corner, out of sight, silently seething but ultimately unable to do anything. 

If he asked you to fly him to the moon, you would do so without question. Hide a dead body? All you needed to do was grab a shovel, but be a bridge to him and whoever he wanted to go home with that night. You could take a rain check. 

You got out of it often given how many of your mutual friends were present at the events and parties you all attended but it seemed that your luck ran out. Tonight, most of your friends either ditched the party early or had skipped out completely, leaving you to find a plausible excuse as to why you, in love with your best friend, could not talk him up to someone so said best friend could go home with them whilst you were left behind wondering what it would be like if you two went home together instead.

You became standoffish, faked fatigued, and pretended to be tipsy but he saw through your antics, confused with your behaviour until he resorted to tugging your arm repeatedly, pestering you to go over and rizz him up to some good-looking person who had been eyeing him all night.

Why did he need a wing person anyway? It's not like he had any trouble talking to people given his charm, mischievous aura and drop-dead gorgeous looks, he attracted people left and right, like a thirst-ridden nomad to an oasis. 

His persistence, on a normal day, would have eventually broken you down until you might have just walked up to whoever he needed you to, but something snapped inside you the longer you stared, wondering if you would be at the end of his affection. His eagerness shattered your short-lived fantasy but also wrecked your mood, unable to withstand being in that space, you pulled your arm out of his grasp and stormed out of the party. 

You didn’t stop to look back, walking out of the party room, out the building and towards your apartment, a mere five-minute walk. The chilly autumn weather would have caused you to mentally nitpick to have worn something thicker but your anger fuelled the passion to speed walk to the only safe space you could think of. 

Jeonghan had come after you, yet his hollers of your name fell on deaf ears as you were determined to block out all the external noise and finish your trek back home.

Catching up to you, he grabbed your upper arm, both fumbling you in your step and spinning you around right into his chest. 

“Y/N what the hell is the problem?” 

You avoid his eyes, cross your arms and look anywhere except directly at him.

“Are you going to stand there pouting or tell me what's wrong? Why did you storm out?” He waits for an answer, a fruitless endeavour against your current ego.

The sigh that leaves his mouth signals his own frustration at your lack of cooperation. He begins again hoping you answer at least one of his questions.

“Was it the tugging? I’m sorry if it bothered you too much…” Silence... “Are you drunk? Are you feeling sick?” 

His questions increased, asking you about the day, the party and even whether you liked the vibe of who he was trying to go home with to understand what the issue was, and that got on your last nerve

“I’M IN LOVE YOU DAMN IT!”

It's like a weight on your heart had been lifted but his expression only brought on a much heavier boulder on your heart and a knot in your throat. If you stayed here any longer you would begin crying and that was the last damn thing you needed tonight.

“Forget it, you don’t even care…”

You shake off his grip for the second time that night and storm off to your apartment with more urgency than before because now you’ve officially crossed the line in your friendship.

[fukashiin]

a whit of hope — housewardens

❥ twinkling stars, luminescent fairy lights, and a stuffed plushie that sits in silence.

In which you weep in agony in the wake of your mind telling you that you may not be able to ever return to your beloved world that you hold so closely to your heart.

Your quivering soul is ever so grateful that you have the housewardens from the respective dorms to kiss your tears away.

cw: gn reader, self-deprecation, hints of depression, very inconsistent writing style + half beta read

wc: 8k (1000-1530 per chara.)

implied book 3 and 6 spoilers for azul's and idia's piece

Your ears take in the pitter-patter of the rain that resounds outside of Ramshackle dorm. You disassociate into the rather sentimental ambience of the room that you've become familiar with in a matter of time. The stars look particularly brighter tonight, you thought. But is that really something to be happy about at this moment?

Your teary eyes directs to your jagged study desk, with jumbled notebooks that sit open as they washed in the moon's accompanying light that would falter in certain moments. It feels utterly cold, your mind wanders. Your knuckle-swollen hands clutches the wrinkled bedsheets as the semi-busted lamp in your room flickers. You feel yourself looking vacantly at the pent-up vest that hung atop the wardrobe's knob.

You've lost count. How many months, years has it been since your existence from your home world faded into nothingness completely? You wanted to reject reality, smash it into fragments, shout out your thoughts that's been a burden weighing on your shoulders until your body gives in a shuts down.

You gave your word to the headmaster in a heartbeat, that you'd promise to take diligent supervision over Grim until he discovers a way back to the place where your entire being stays loyally rooted to. Your subconscious would always surpress the raging urge to click your tongue bitterly once he resorts to tomfoolery when asked if he has made the necessary arrangements to send you back. The swirling feeling of hatred that stills in your stomach makes you oh-so desperate to just double-over and vomit.

Why? Nobody understands. Not even you have a single clue to why that crow was so stubbornly adamant on keeping you here in an alternate world where you didn't even sense a relevant belonging in. Why, why, why? Teeth clenched, you feel the stars looking down before you as they laugh at your devastated state in mockery.

These deadly thoughts tore your mind to shreds. Will anyone even remember me? What if there's no way to actually return and I'll just have to keep surviving? What if they think I'm just dead by now?

You break. Mentally and physically.

Sight going red, your eyes dart around the dim-lit room to look for something suitable for your—supposed disappearance. You were nearly at your limit. But at the very same time, you were still fortunate enough to have even a microscopic sliver of hope floating in your chest. You heaved a sigh, as you look down at the floor beneath you.

With that, not even the tears could hold itself back anymore. You weep, cry, and beg. Wails getting louder as it echoes hauntingly throughout the room. The sound of your prolonged grief, will ever be rivalled to the roaring waves of the sea.

Until you sense another being approaching closer to your state.

Riddle Rosehearts

"I was wondering who could've been up at 1am in the morning to make such noises," You hear Riddle's muffled, fatigued voice outside of the door that leads straight to your room. He surely must've been off-ing heads left and right, with the swift movement of his magical pen.

You—immediately—to not be heard—seize the pillow by your side to shove your face in, in high hopes that your cries wouldn't be overheard by another living being. Especially Heartslabyul's queen, whose job is to enforce his disciplinary onto those unruly residents who makes zero effort to act in accordance upon the tyrannical rules that were upheld.

Riddle takes your suspicious silence to creak the door open, "Prefect," he lets himself in, "Why are you not in bed yet? And—where is that flaming cat of yours? Isn't he supposed to be with you?"

"In addition.." he thought his eyes were playing a prank on him. Could someone ever be this disorderly? That could compete with a certain two in his dorm for the award-winning prize of the most unmanageable student there is in all of Night Raven College? "What happened to your room?! It's in absolute disarray!"

He, at once, halted his comments as his gaze flickered at your hunched-over figure. Hugging the pillow in a deathly grip, you avoid his eyes as much as you possibly could. Oh, how much of a fool you were to believe that he didn't catch the way you guarded your body as your arms squeeze around the item impossibly tighter.

The dejected state you were in, unknowingly shot a hole through Riddle's heart. Cruel, unforgiving.

Silence quickly dominated the room. To put it simply, Riddle was at an unfortunate lost for words. Have you been crying this whole time without telling a single soul? Why were the velvet strings that were tugging at his heart convulse so violently, as if he was acquainted with the fact of how much of an impact you have made on him after the incident that he was longing to forget? He looks at the way an unforeseen tear drops at the corner of your bloodshot eyes, as it streams down to your chapped lips, decorated ugly in fissured cracks.

He didn't know. He couldn't grasp how his anger turned into sympathy in a matter of seconds. Queries raced through his mind alarmingly. Was it Ace and Deuce again? What exactly was so misfortunate for the uptight prefect that it was able to bring them down to their knees? But you were unaware of a heavily harboured feeling in his heart, an unfamiliar sense of protection that strayed within.

"Who..." Riddle is cautious. He takes a few steps towards you, carefully—as if you're made of some sort of pottery that has been precisely sculptured—but not for this world, since he fears you might back away from his fuming presence, "Who is responsible for this?"

This triggers your fight-or-flight response. You cower away from the redhead apprehensively, scooting closer to the headboard of your bed as your eyes fall shut. What is he possibly planning to do? You couldn't fathom what Riddle's thoughts were at the moment. "Look, I know I stayed up past bedtime but!—"

You feel a certain warmth caress your tear-stained cheeks. "No." 

It was..Riddle? But still, you're scared to open your eyes. You're afraid that he might cast out his magic in a millisecond, using the deceitful look of pity on his face as a chance to discipline you correspondingly. "...I don't care about that."

You peaked a glance at Riddle, slowly opening your left eye, stiff as ever. You wanted to continue your depressive episode, but for an entirely different reason now.

Why was his warmth so comforting? Why isn't he saying anything more than his signature line? Why do you find the utmost solace lingering in your heart when he wipes your tears away? The Riddle Rosehearts, doing all of this to Ramshackle's prefect, that has stooped so low behind everyone's absence?

You decided to disassemble the safety guards that's been shielding your heart, and let your feelings fall free.

"I...I apologise for staying awake till now,’ you gasped through your sobs, “And...how you’re seeing this side of me.” Your icy-cold hands take ahold of his that stroked your cheek gently, in an attempt to calm you down from whatever has been troubling you. You’ve never seen him so caring before. It’s like whoever up there, that you were hopelessly praying to above, heard your pleas and sent the perfect angel down your way to mend your heart. 

He didn't want to care about study guides anymore. The sheer will power that reflected in his eyes, only goes to show he isn't afraid to let down the sky-high expectations that were carved into his very being.

“You surely speak of nonsense when your mind is not in the right place.” He awkwardly crouches down to your level, meeting eye-to-eye, as he hesitantly cups his palms around your cheeks. You yourself were aware that this, of all times, was definitely not the moment you should be stifling a laugh. From his tousled hair, his blazing hot cheeks where bloomed a rosy-pink shade and his neat pajamas that look like they’ve just been freshly ironed head to toe.

“I am not the most amiable when it comes to the language of comfort,” he whispers, soft and low, with his lips inches away from yours. “But I know very well that someone who suffers daily with a number of three rowdy raccoons on their tail shouldn’t be suffering alone. ..I guess, I myself am familiar with that feeling, somehow.” He casts his eyes down towards the ground in shame, and back up to your face.

“P..Please, tell me if I do something out of your liking.” stated firmly, his face closed towards yours, palms still resting on both sides of your cheeks, as he gives them butterfly-light kisses that linger for a few seconds. His eyes scan your reactions after pulling away and diving right back in, but you’ve never felt your heart being filled to the brim with overflowing affection in your entire lifetime.

“Now,” you see Riddle, the regular Riddle, stand tall and direct his attention on the door entry. “I’m going to search for that gremlin of yours. It’s immediately off with his head once I find him after abandoning his oh-very precious owner.”

Leona Kingscholar

“Ah, seriously...” You jolt upwards, with your hair standing on end as a husky voice rings through your ears. “I came here to relax cause’ all the guys in Savanaclaw are causing sucha’ ruckus and my ears are sensitive,” gulping mentally, your frame becomes smaller as your rough hands hurriedly wipe the tears off your face, moments away before Leona nudges the door open with his foot,

 “And what do I find but a certain herbivore wailing like a baby in the crib in the middle of the night?”

“Leona...” The everlasting feeling of frustration numbed on your tongue, tears growing hotter at the eyesore of a situation that unfolded in front of your eyes. You punch your pillow, hoping to get a blow out of it. Does he even know how your nightly problems shouldn't concern him in the slightest? Why send Leona—a prince—someone who's been living under the dignified curtains of royalty for generations since the time of his birth to come to your aid? 

You’re angry, frustrated, infuriated—a swirl of emotions numbed in your stomach. You just wanted to go back to your own world.

You would rather drop dead, eyes sore as tears seep under the sparkling moonlight continuously with no end, than to have an actual prince comfort you. You would feel like none less of an undeserved peasant.

But your stubborn front only masks the tears that fall behind. You're uncertain how much longer you could keep up your facade before the black filth that fills your body consumes you whole.

His slothful nature remains as he stays glued to the ground, his eyes boring into yours.

“...This is causing me a headache too, you know that?” Scratching his head, Leona trudges towards your bed, steps heavy from endless exhaustion, as he sits down and lays his head in your lap. A dry gasp emitted from you sore throat as you raise your arms in defence. He lets out his laugh, throaty and chock-full of overwhelming pride as his stare burns into your face from underneath.

“I don’t wanna see you bawling your eyes out like that,” met by a glowing set of emerald eyes-one that is stripped off of its usual arrogance and is replaced by a sheen of gold, shining tenderness. Leona rests his hands above yours and enwraps it in a slight squeeze, hoping that his message of hospitality travels to your deadly cold corpse.

Your body is going to break. Mind smashed by the ruthless hammer of reality, breaths quickened as you process the scene before you.

“Tear your heart out, yell at the top of your lungs, shout at the whole world how much you hate everyone,” he rambles on, lips moving tenderly in each second against the misty air, and you get the gist of what he’s trying to convey.

“But just don’t bottle it all up. You’re doing the exact opposite of what you wanna achieve.” Harsh, unwavering, but filled with warmth. Like a morning sunrise that greets your view at the crack of dawn, one that shines with a fierce blaze above the earth’s horizon which blinds your sight. 

But luckily, you don’t feel the least blinded at all. You feel fulfilled, that you could witness such a sight. A sight that punches you right in the gut and ripped your bodily nerves out, one that showed you that life is not always sunshine and rainbows. 

You clutched his hands in your shivering palms, which you held on to like a salvation on this helpless night.

“A..Are you okay?”

“What..?” This was expected. He was seen dumbfounded in seconds. Wasn’t he the one who’s supposed to support you at this very moment? When you’re sobbing endlessly with no one to turn to?

Emitting a rough groan, his eyes fall shut. And he thought all his efforts were wasted? Silly. Wondering, you tried your best to oppress a laugh that’s been bubbling in your throat.

“I meant, whether you’re okay with coming in here and telling me all these sweet things.” You rub his forehead and smoothed his hair back, attempting to give him some sort of comfortable friction as small payment back for what he did. Like a devoted mother inclining to her own child, as they lie in bed with a temperature higher than average. “You rather wouldn’t do this at all, would you?”

“Ah..how seriously troublesome.” Admittedly, he’s embarrassed. His cheeks are flushed, and you certainly don’t miss the chance to sneak a peak, earning a light flick on your forehead. 

“Whatever, feelin’ better now?” he pinches the thick skin on your waist. Better? Feeling better? 

Your tears have stopped flowing, your mind clears of all foggy implications of possible futuristic ideas of you building up to your breaking point, and your heart squeals in content. You’re grateful, that at least, one beating heart can connect to yours in a split second. That could listen to your worries, your cries for help, and how much you loathe yourself to no end.

“..Sure.” Your response falls flat in an instant. Leona isn’t an easy individual to fool, so his eyes widened out of his sleepy trance. You giggle and look at him with the softest of eyes, filled with all the affection in the world you could muster.

“Hah? I’m not going to come in here every night to pat you on the head and wipe your tears away like a spoiled toddler,” His eyebrows furrowed, “So make sure you treasure this, cause it won’t be for free.”

Twirling his soft tendrils in your ring finger, you mutter. “Like Hell I expected it to be.”

Sharing one last look of passion between both your eyes, Leona leaves feathery kisses on your knuckles, that trails up to your neck, which leaves all types of tingling sensations that spark within. You don’t miss the way he murmurs one last sentence, one that renders you lightheaded.

“I’m proud of you, my one and only herbivore.”

Azul Ashengrotto 

A certain individual’s newly polished footwear clicked and clacked on Ramshackle’s worn surface. Curiosity aroused, you peered up at the entrance of your room sheepishly.

“Now, this is unexpected, dear prefect.” Propping his glasses comfortably just right above the bridge of his nose, he opens his arms wide, as if he contains the most long-lasting benevolence which puts the Sea Witch that rules over the glimmering waters to shame. “Ah, but fear not–we can clearly talk this out! Just give me a scrap of your trust and time, and I’ll make sure that all your misgivings will vanish from this world in an instant. No traces left behind.”

You quirk an eyebrow, not the normal kind of quirk where you’re actually establishing interest in his playful deeds. But the one that leaves you astonished, that makes you question Azul’s course of action as you’re weeping. Infront of him.

A glint of mischief flashes in his diamond eyes, intent crystal-clear as the raindrops that races down the windowpanes that are attached to your room. 

You’re not surprised in the least—no, you’re just plain out bored of all his pitiful attempts at trying to seal a deal with you, even after all the history that took place. His unceasing passion for capitalism dreads you to the core, you avoid the thought of the possible number of inferior patrons he managed to fool with his underlying schemes he’s planned out with two other underlings.

“I don’t need your cherished benevolence,” You felt pathetic under the eyes of a sole founder of a striving lounge that could outlead you in a split second. “Or your cheap deals, or that dangerous look on your face-seriously, what are you doing here?”

Azul lets out a moderate hum, arms crossed over the other in displeasure at your question. “My, what a miserable tone you have there.” In normal circumstances, he anticipates the rate of you using your usual tactic of first, brushing it off with a coy smile, and second, saying the expected “Maybe next time.” to shield your entire sanity before devoting your whole body and soul to be close to, if not a 100%.

But where was Ramshackle’s prefect? The person who managed to dastardly out-villain a massively feared individual, the person who faced and threatened Leona of all people with bravery, and the person who was able clasp Azul’s heart that was thrown around, kicked about, and thrashed under other children’s immaturity to envelop it in their own embrace? 

Where was the person who was able to bring him back to his senses before no one else could?

His eyes squint to the ground. He’s beyond frustrated, over the top and it’s embarrassing. It sets a disgraceful name to the twins, the only people who have known him since elementary and stood by his side that took zero to no interest in bullying the poor octopus. That was until, when you came into the picture. 

“If you’re just going to stand there then...please, leave..” You cough, a lump of ruined pride splattered onto the bedsheets disgustingly. The tears are never-ending, like some forgotten tap that has been running for a full minute. Except it wasn’t just a whole minute for you, but for months. Months, months and months till years where the outrageous thoughts booked a spot in your head and refused to leave until it broke you down to feeble little pieces.

Azul sighs. Weak and defeated. 

How was he going to help you in this condition? His mind trails to other useful possibilities, intent pure, thoughts not-so. But as of now, his only priority, no matter what it costs, is to bring back the prefect that Azul Ashengrotto himself has grown so fond of.

He closes the door behind him and gave you a spiralling look of determination, initially faltering.

“..Well, it’s not that I am in the exact same predicament as you are,” he saunters before you while stripping his coat off in the process, stuffing his gloves in the hip pocket. “But I can’t say that I don’t understand your feelings of wanting to get back at the world for its mistreatment it has put you through.”

You don’t want this. You don’t want to be forced into signing a contract that benefits only the initiator, not again.

You flinch momentarily as he closes in on you. But you don’t fall back. Instead, you lose yourself in the immediate feeling of consolation as it blankets over your body. And what was causing that feeling—

Was his coat.

His large, fabric-sewn coat that hugged you like a fuzzy bear. Protecting you from all the other outside species that dared come to get closer by an inch. Your mind tells you to stay away at all cost, that you don’t need a sadistic money-hogger to hog your emotions away as well. But your heart swells, love overflowing for this one man that treated you so kindly. Gave you his notes, showed you his weaknesses, and even stopped editing his childhood pictures that he just wants to tear to shreds like a wild animal behind your back. All for free and for you, not for anybody else.

Because that’s how much you mean to him. Even if he doesn’t show it.

 You can’t help but let the tears fall once again, but silently, as you look up at the person behind all this.

“Merfolks have it easy under the cold weather, so no need to sweat it.” Masking his flustered state, he shrugs his shoulders and raised his arm in defence. How truly, magnificently silly I am. He thought. “And I am no different as an octopus.”

“But..rest assured, I have grown.” Leaning down to get a closer view at your face, he frowns at your wet cheeks that have been stained by the waterfall of tears, tired eyes that painted a faded crimson red around the edges, and the last spot—your forehead.

Suddenly, you feel dizzy. Dizzy and drunk from everything he’s giving you. You now, more than ever, want to steal his whole wardrobe of apparel and wrap them around your figure that yearns for his touch. The alleviation that transmits to you through his thick clothes, his branded clothing that smelled of pricey, hand-plucked plumerias from a bottled-cologne which Azul usually wears. And his own natural scent. God.

You’re spiralling.

Easy little pecks were left on your forehead. A peck that swelled with everlasting affection, one that overwhelmed with his unfair favouritism towards you, and the other that told you nobody else could ever deliver these passionate feelings to the entirety of your body that twists and turns while he claims you as his own. 

And lastly, a drunken kiss on the lips that leaves you wanting more.

“Though, I’m not entirely sure on how to bring you back to where you came from,” He thinks, and thinks, and thinks. Both of you know it was just seen as repetitive at this point, regardless...

“But you are always welcome to come running to me if you have even the slightest bit of problems. Just tell me the name, and surely, I’ll make sure they’ll never lay a hand on you once again.”  

Kalim Al-asim

Merry. Cheerful, happy, and lively. Feelings that you don’t hold in the palms of your hands at the very moment, paints your ghastly hallways in luxury as it bounces off your cries.

Kalim was too drowned out of his own thoughts, arms holding a basket of flowers that was specially picked out from the own good will of his heart from Scarabia’s highly-treasured plants of botany that originated centuries ago, adorned in red, lustre trinkets that priced at a small value. The same colour of his eyes that hypnotised you every time you steal a glance of warmheartedness. 

“Jasmine, Kudu, Iris-mm, they’re all here!” He could never be more happier. His finger tips graze over the fragile petals, leaving a speck of powdery pollen on one’s smooth skin as he dusts it off. He wishes to see you smile, brighter than the sun will ever be—brighter than him. To let you know that your entire being is worth more than his everything he’s ever received in his life. By his parents, servants, Jamil–that’s why he’s here in the first place.

To not see you cry yourself to sleep.

Before you knew it, the wooden basket that was crafted under one’s professional leisure, all the carefully picked blossoms that held a thousand meanings at your mercy, drops and crashes to the ground.

He thought it was suspicious at first. How you didn’t respond to the repetitive bangs on your door that tarnished in a distasteful, brown-to-grey colour scale that drifts of dust. Anybody could’ve sworn he would break the door down with his mere knocking-considering how weak it has grown over its unused years.

Not only that, he was sure that the fragrance that falls off the flowers was strong enough to grace the entire household of Ramshackle. Given Jamil’s advice, he didn’t want to taint such beauties that he preserved just for you. As his friend, and unknowingly, as his majesty.

“K-kalim!” Plunging off your sunken bed in an instant, burst of hidden energy coming from God knows where—you stood up with jelly-like legs, ready to give out at any moment. His face that told a forgotten story of horror, fingers trembling with the wind across his clothes-features that made you want to grasp on to the last ounce of strength that you mumbled under your breath for the heavens above.

“Why’re you here at this hour..? Are you sure Jamil isn’t yelling at each and every one of the residents in Scarabia to go search for you?” You were beyond concerned. What could happen if he went outside alone again? Disturbed as you were, but admittedly, you didn’t want him to go back. Back to Scarabia, where you would morph back to the lonesome, pitiable self you were.

He laughs as his dimwitted-self would. Everybody grows uneasy at such a positive individual. He brushes off a heavy task of his-even if it potentially causes his life. People around complain and tells him it wasn’t as safe as he thought.

But you treasured such an individual. You wanted to stay with this individual for as long as you could, you wanted to become this individual that portrayed such angelic charms where no one could compete. You didn’t want to stay at Night Raven Collage, the title of the powerless prefect enforced upon you against your own will. You didn’t choose to stay here in the first place.

On the spot, soft sniffling took over your senses.

“No...” You weren’t even given the time to react, before a pair of shaken hands grab on to your shoulders by force. “No...who did this to you?!” 

Wide eyes stared into the endless depths of your soul, an iron grip stronger than the struggling ceiling that looked like it was about to collapse onto your defenseless bodies at any second. You're surely exaggerating, an eery image that was to be recorded inside the textbooks of former, worldwide-phenomenal history, one that automatically forces a stain in your sullied mind, something that you won’t be able to forget so simply.

Kalim’s overbearing emotions, rotton as the flowers that were stepped on as they lay lifelessly on the floor.

Your body froze, heart cracking emphatically for the entire world to hear. You never wanted it to come to this point, because you expected such response. You knew that the great tears of his beloveds will pollute the clarity of his mind, instantly turning to self-blame, which you dread to see. You never wanted anything more than to seal yourself away from this world without anyone ever noticing.

“Please, don’t ever think this was any of your fault.” Caressing his dampened cheek, you cooed as low as the crickets of a mockingbird that reverberates around the neighbourhood at the wee hours of the night. The last thing you ever wanted was to spell trouble for Kalim. Now, two unbroken streams of tears flowed, his still prevailed.

“No. Now that that I’ve seen your tears..” He wipes his eyes, “I want to give you something that significances in value more than my life!” 

Silly, something that doesn’t quite sit corrected with the mood. But you know he’s dead serious, right?

“Jewellery, makeup, fancy clothing, a chandelier—anything! Please, just name the price! I don’t care if Jamil disapproves!”

You wanted to cry yourself to sleep.

“Please...” He pulls you in a hug. A hug that warns you to never let go, a hug that held you like a life support, a hug that gifted you unconditional love that the world failed to send. “Tell me what’s wrong, I’ll send ten-no-a hundred servants on your way! You won’t have to worry about a thing, they’ll take care of you better than I ever wi-”

Immediate silence, desperate cries arrowed by your hushed move to place a kiss on his lips. His heated ramblings that fell off the tip of his tongue that tuned in with your head in a daze, making your heart oh-so ready to jump out of your body and offer the same pleasure back.

Immediately, he cradled your head in his arms. Love radiating from his body, burned hotter than his hometown where he stepped foot in every day. A longing pang of guilt, mixed with the sentiment of an olden song from the Land of Hot Sands that would bring tranquil upon the children of the sun who would squeal in euphoric measures.  A core memory that Kalim enjoys reminiscing every now and then.

He does everything in his power to bring such comfort to your mind.

“S-so don’t worry about the flowers...” He pulls away as he grips the side of your head, “I’ll give you something much more worthy.”

He closes in, peppering sweet, saccharine pecks on the shell of your ears that flavoured of honey and vanilla. Kisses soothing as morning Jasmine tea, topped in luscious sugar cubes that shimmered in the slightest under the soft, hovering sunlight. His kisses are heavenly, to die for, and something that you can never get from anybody else.

“Hey, can we go to bed together?” He rubs your temples shyly, hoping that you agree to his offer. “I want to stay with you till the sun rises. To give you all the cuddles and nose nuzzles you deserve in the entire world.”

To no one’s surprise- you thought for a second, even having your doubts and possible consequences that ran through your head. But you realised-that doesn’t matter. And even never will, if you’re lucky enough. So all you could do was nod.

In the blink of an eye, you both are now scurrying to the middle of your bed with the door shut. Your heart flutters, lead by Kalim’s loving grip.

His feelings now beamed a radiance of dazzling, eye-blinding smiles.

Because he would rather be greeted by the comforting view of your pretty face in the morning. Something different other than a tray full of metal utensils, accompanied by expensive ceramic bowls filled with freshly picked fruits, and a cup of warm tea that waits to be sipped on.

Vil Schoenheit

A faded tune plays out just outside the room of your door, as one’s sensual voice reaches your ears just loud enough for you to hear, amidst the torrential rain.

“Mira, Mira, tell me something.” 

A pause,

“Who, at the moment, is the most beautiful of all?”

You shudder in anticipation. A name that existed in this world, a name that’s been forgotten by the people from your world that was nowhere near in sight, which possibly made multiple headlines and was altered to deceased in the end-

A name that belonged to you. A puny human being. 

“(Y/n) (L/n).”

You audibly scoffed at how stupid it was. You? The fairest? Not even the bloody stars that aligned for you every once in a while could behold such a weak lie right in front of your face. Yes, you’re far from the fairest, far from beautiful, far from presentable—just a body sown by crimson threads interlacing in the most poisonous, velvety of patterns where one saw fit to mingle their courtly love with.

“My, did you hear that? It didn’t say my name for the first time.” Shoving his handphone back into his pocket, he rests his hand on his hip, assuming you’d get the message, a simple trick up his sleeves that he knew it were to be of use one day. You catch a quick glimpse of his hand. It’s still the same as ever-smudged, dry lipstick that matched the colour of Vil. What enticing aura that surrounds him, which you could never hold a candle to in a million years.

“Perhaps, it is I who has kept on believing such hoax? The Magic Mirror never lies.” He places a finger to his lips, “So, calm yourself. It would be a problem if I were to stain my hands from tears like yours.”

Demeanor as harsh as the Evil Queen, but you know from the bottom of his heart that these words weren’t lies. At all.

He swiftly pushes the door back until it closes, as his gaze ricochets among your worn pajamas, unruly hair, and your indented fingernails present of hours from unconscious biting and pricking-a slacked appearance that defeats the whole purpose of being beauty’s shining light. But don’t worry, just add the tiniest budge of makeup, make an appointment for the most world-class salons that makes tenfold the amount of money you make and conceal all those imperfections with the help insincere compliments that sheds of jealousy. Doesn’t sound too bad, does it?

Vil rolls his eyes. Wrong. An absolutely atrocious idea.

Your shoulders drop the way your tears did, your presence a mockery to his. You shift awkwardly under his peering eyes that were no different from a hawk’s as he studies your figure. After a moment, a small smirk dances on his face, fleek eyebrows raising as your tumbled eyes stared at him in contempt. Vil swishes his hair back before he walks towards you and cups your face in the palm of his hands.

“Well, the thought of you being the fairest doesn’t sound...half bad.” Twisting your head slightly, he analyses for it for a few seconds and combes your hair with his elongated fingers, easing the frizz that eats away at your chances of being the utmost beautiful amid all the other unwithering bouquets of roses out there. 

But..you didn’t want to believe that. You obviously can’t be so sure that you are in fact, the most eye-catching anyone has ever seen. You didn’t—couldn’t see how Vil saw you as one of his kind, a lovely rose put on display for the hungry eyes of influencers, model scouters and agencies that actively has their eyes open for new talents. In short, you were less than worthy.

But to Vil, and to him alone, you were the most prettiest rose he has ever layed his eyes upon. A rose that lit up his sad endings, making them ones he would want to live through. As long as you were there, no bad endings would  ever be bad endings with sunken eyes and dried tears. Because you were there to give him his own happy ever after that he's longed for forever.

Whispered coos brushed against your ears as he babbles on about how much of a mess you were at the moment, but he’s aware that we was balancing on a thin line of string that was his own mentality. He wanted nothing more than to take care of you and to tend to you to your uttermost enchanting self that only he could call his. A name suitable for Ramshackle’s prefect, no?

A beauty amongst all the other dorms, uniqueness that piqued countless interests at school, but you chose him? And he still wonders why till this day. Exactly why-he’s set on caressing your body, shushing your worries and unravelling your deepest of vulnerabilities. He wants you to prosper more than ever, to spread your wings that you kept a secret from everyone and soar magnificently through the burdensome storms until you reached the mount of the stars above.

“But, these tears are terribly troublesome.” He pulls your face closer, “Come now, let me wipe them away.” 

You froze up for a bit before shifting away slightly. You don’t know why-but the thought of Vil doing something so out-of-character makes you shudder like a lonesome, stray cat in the windy nights. Not really that far off from your current state, but you digress.

That’s when realisation actually starts to hit you like a truck–It’s way past his bedtime, did he even get to do his routinely touch-ups before coming here? Your sanity is nothing more than past the levels of recurring zeros, but you haven’t completely lost yourself. At least, that’s what you hoped. For both you and your beloved’s sake.

There, he tsks. “What are you, half-asleep?” His eyebrows knit as he looks down at you cross-armed. He isn’t wrong-you were still trying to process his unprecedented courses of actions that kept ambushing your thoughts on by one. 

Not particularly good for the wellbeing of your mind, but you would be lying if you said cupid hasn’t played with your heartstrings like a contrabass if his streaming flow of purple-tipped locks that skimmed right over your eyelashes in the most graceful way possible-didn’t make your heart beat a few milliseconds faster, followed by heated, flushed cheeks. “But, you said-”

“Do you not know how to take a joke?” He tips your chin upwards in the slightest, giving you a better view of his eyes that swirled of his complete endearment towards you. Entranced, is a word you would describe yourself in. Everything about him makes you want to melt into a puddle this instant. His body language, his hair, to his tantalizing scent, flirtatious but soft-hearted touches of gold that sparked a connection only between two hearts and no more.

Your tears fall harder than before, which managed to startle Vil as he pulls his fingers away from your face. Yes, you look pathetic, but you’ve never wanted anything more than just an iota of comfort. From anyone, you even pleaded for the heaven’s wave of hope above, for everyone to hear but no one to appear. You’re desperate and drained, unfilled with life as your soul screams out just as loud as your cries do.

“Goodness.” His gaze softens, as he directs your hands rubbing your eyes to the large of your thighs. Gleaming eyes meet yours as he closes your eyes shut. Once he deems you ready, you were immediately swept away with the fervor feeling of bliss that spreads throughout your entire body.

Tenderly kisses were placed on top each of your eyelids, sending a low hum of pleasure down your throat as Vil captivates you deeper into the tunnels of his own heart that he’s guarded for so long. He wants you to understand him, to fulfill his lovestruck desires that makes all the 7 types of Greek love drastically pale in comparison. A love that no one could ever copy if they wanted to, a love that’s shared between two devoted individuals, as dazzling as the Evil Queen’s tiara that flashes in front of wandering eyes.

He holds the sides of your jaw so passionately, it makes you knees go weak. 

He wants to show his fans—the whole earth—how much of an otherworldly being you can truly be, and that his relationship with you was not all just show.

“I’ll stay with you for the night, that way I can make sure you’re all prim and proper in the morning once you wake up from your daily slumber.” He plants a soft peck on your lips, directing one hand down your waist while massaging it quietly.

You nod, fluttering you eyes open as he grazes his thumb ever so gently on your forehead. You’d succumb to each and every one of his effort to take care of you, no matter how strenuous it may seem. Because you’re all his. A person that he’ll gladly spend all his endings with. Just without the script this time- because true love doesn’t need such artificial shortcuts when it’s between you and him.

Idia Shroud

“U-Uh...” Your eyes spot an imprecise silhouette as it strolls closer to your door, taking unsure steps while visible strands of incandescent hair that sways in place lights up the closed area–that you reluctantly call your home. Incoherent mumbles of defiance slides through the dull width shaping the space between the door and the decaying wall that’s been collecting dust and inducing nasty pests for God knows how long.

Twiddling his thumbs in motioning circles, he stutters to speak the next audible sentence that’s been waiting to roll off the tip of his tongue. Fidgeting eyes stayed ultra-glued to the ground as he presses his lips tight. Summoning the tiniest bit of courage to peep through the crack that has been distancing both him and yourself from ever getting closer, he mutters.

“I...I couldn’t help but hear you.” His fingers come to a stop as his hand latches on to the metallic-painted doorknob, widening his field of vision of you tightening your grip on the poor bedsheets that probably sustained countless hours of unrestrained rage that doesn’t seem to be going away anytime soon. He sighs, before resting his hand once he came to a comfortable position.

“Do you mind if I come in?”

You huffed, one laced with arrogance, and you dully motion his shaking form to come inside with the tip of your finger. He oddly lacks reaction for the first time despite his past inept encounters with you where you could only recall his solid refusal to make direct eye contact, how he tipped his hoodie further down his face so he could hide his eyes finding his oh-gracious savior–either Ortho or the nearest door next by where he could trip over his own loose shoelaces to hide in. 

He shuts the door and stumbles inside to sit at the side of your bed—his shoelaces are still untied. That serves your mind into a disorientation, not knowing whether to chuckle at his childish carelessness that is the same of a child’s or to cringe at how painfully long he took just to reach the remaining half of the bed-and to occupy it.

Though he wouldn’t mind if you did laugh for just a millisecond. Hell, even cracking a delicate smile would’ve been enough to bring silent peace to his heart. Your laugh is an un-sung melody that jazzes with the wind. One that compliments your endearing gaze, unblemished with the tiniest glint of protection in your eyes that pierces right through his, sharp as a honed needle.

He swears he saw flower petals that enriches the school grounds comedically come flowing down behind you, like he was meant to see such an ethereal sight bestowed upon his eyes. Was the sunlight gracing your skin too bright as if an influx of blinding stars were shooting down to hit the earth ground-first, or was it just him?

No matter, once he was comfortable, he shuffles closer–just a little closer, so that his breathy voice could be heard within the thunderous downpour. It’s nothing compared to your endless stream of tears, he feels. And it’s true.

“...Can’t go back to your own world, huh? Must be depressing.” There winds away the momentous sympathy he presented so obviously to the naked eye. But the words that he spits out of his running mouth and his body language are two entirely different things. He’s growing increasingly nervous as the clock ticks by. 

Your seemingly boundless patience is truly a gifted trait, if you could knock out someone’s tooth once or twice right now, you would.

But once he looks into your eyes once more, he feels it—the ruthless pang that scarfs down on his own heart, repulsive, disgusting, unsightly, your disheveled appearance rips open an undiscovered memory of his, one that he wants to forget. The demonic voices in his head that submerges him deep down his past inability to come to the rescue for someone who needed it the most. Tingling nerves creep up his body, as the knots in his throat displays him utterly, deafeningly speechless, unable to scream out.

Will it only get worse from here?

If he won't be able to save the very person who accepted him for the way he was, just because of his own negligence again?

It's terribly cliche but he does it. Like a real mvp would, his mind speaks things he can't say aloud. His hand hovers just right above your own, achingly close, and he slowly caresses your scraped knuckles, before interlacing his raw-boned fingers between yours. His fingers twitch in the slightest, but he calms the disastrous war in his mind and squeezes the flesh that only dares to squeeze back.

"I get it...i-if I'm not some type of fairy tale prince that's all lovey-dovey." His other hand toys with the ends of his hair. away from your curious gaze. His words, how he enunciates them, the way they don't leave your ears with unfilled fondness that's been deeply rooted in your heart for ages-are choppy as usual. And you love him for that.

Could he have found someone else so abruptly unjudgmental of him? Someone who sees right through his loner facade? He wishes this moment could last forever, just you and him, under the glittering moonlight that highlights your facial features, a prepossessing sight that mirrors the exact same times where you sit together in the day, on the same bench, under the same tree.

Whispers filled with room for only two souls.

"B-but, it's only natural for me to take this much courage," He pauses before inhaling a sharp breath, "okay..?"

You could only send out a small laugh before his free hand slips off the fabric that covers your frame-hiding your shoulders. Your eyes widen momentarily before you fall into a bliss of heavenly exchange.

His lips connect with the skin on your shoulder. A soothing texture that subdues the whirl of emotions that rack through your entire body, replaces it with unsaid longing for your mere touch. Forbidden anesthesia to your train of thoughts, the voice which you couldn't seem to find within yourself anymore, to which you decided to roam your tear-stained hands in his flickering hair, mumbling sweet praises of love while he plants his pecks in each and every inch on your shoulder, leaving tiny smacks from his lips once it disconnects.

You could never ask for a better way to showcase your love for Idia. Undying, naive love that even he would find stupid for a lone wolf like him. But his eyes could only stray to your lips. Lonely—was one way to describe it.

Maybe one day he could empty out his own thoughts, his own arrogant feelings that cages his ego, and substitute the loneliness that masks it with his own lips that were none other than lonelier. 

It's a few minutes–maybe longer than that, before his face leaves your body and his thumbs massaging the bare skin while he catches his breath. Rather someone as inexperienced as him was bound to do something silly, but he leaves you in a state of surprise when he pulls it off. Was the side quest really that hard? You chuckled. "I'm happy you came. Really."

His gaze swiftly returns to your eyes. Eyes that sheen on the surface–there it is. Eyes of someone beautiful, the opposite of him.

"Is there any way I can pay you back?" You ask once again. You have a vague idea of what he might demand back as payment.

His mood lightens, and suddenly, his hair seems brighter than usual. 

"...Let's go back to Ignihyde dorm together. Tons'a sweet games we can play on my PC until the sun rises."   

Malleus Draconia 

You've lost your track of time, how long it's been since you've been holding in the disgusting bile that hangs over the tip of your lips. Hideous tears that paints your face, the word 'pathetic' scrawled ruthlessly across your forehead, ridiculing each and every course of action you take out of pure pity. Scrunching your face out of anger? Nails digging into your skin so dangerously deep trickles of crimson blood gushes out of it? A childish emotion you’re taking way too seriously?

Foolish. How dense could that headmage be to let you enroll at such a school as Night Raven College?

You could only hiccup once more before palish flickering lights—ones identical to fireflies—illuminate the room that blinds your line of sight. A gentle gust of wind that whisks upon coming in contact with your figure. A rather soft glow that relishes with the dampened air that surrounds it. You recognise the scenery before you quickly, it’s burned into your the deepest caves of your mind at this point.

The tall figure looms before you, eyes shut, as he regains his consciousness and takes seconds to let his eyes flicker a few times before his gaze settles wholly on you. A shudder slithers through your body.

The Malleus Draconia. A prominent, noble profile from Briar Valley where heads are hung low, torches are lit, gates are unbolted, all in favour and in submission for a singular prince that reigns over the land where residents sing a chorus of praises at his very name. 

You wonder if he’s here to give you a greeting regarding a goodnight’s rest? After all, it’s been around a month’s span since you’ve each had your enchanting encounters with each other in the dead of the night.

“Child of man.” He whispers, beyond your hearing. The rainstorm distinguishes your own ability to hear past his low utter of words, other nights were just fine, but this particular night is where your humanly senses betray you. Your sentimental daydreams you have where your back in your own world, the nostalgic scent of home that brings your disdained body back it’s dignity that you felt was missing your entire time here in this unfamiliar world,

And your homesickness finally going away. The melody that weaves with the endless song of time, harmonizing together, wrapping your heart in a paramount supply of hugs that’s warmer than the frayed blanket that sits atop your shivering frame. The nocturnal air that stabs you all throughout your body gives your bones an unwelcomed smile.

Still, he continues. “Your gift of cries are...horrendously loud. I suppose, abnormal for even the human aural to bear hear to.”

The snot that clogs your nose and sniffles leaves you next words sounding-somewhat decipherable. “I-I’m aware..” 

You’re positive you’ve passed the safe levels of lifeless insanity at the point. An esteemed prince who holds onto the steel ropes of eternal living, face-to-face with a frail, powerless human being who’s lost it’s way in life. The basic need to be grateful for being given such a short lifespan but such a widespread of humanly emotions, gone with the wind.

But Malleus only has so little to show you before you die down into mere dust, no?

“..Would you like me to take my leave?” He questions. It’s simple: Someone’s bawling their eyes out in front of you, it’s only normal to assume that they want to be left alone at most, right?

You didn’t answer. You couldn't answer. No body language, zero eye contact, the unfiltered noise of silence that grows larger as both of your hearts beat in rhythm. You were sure that if anyone from his hometown were to stumble upon this, to see your lack of basic respect towards its beloved kind, you could have never prepare for the cruel fate that dawns upon your very being.

You sit still. The hands that tremble under his gaze, barricading your ears from listening any further, The thunderous rainstorms are particularly loud tonight, was it his doing? His own emotions reflecting in the rain-bearing clouds that only seemed to gather more neighbouring ones to produce more short-lived lightnings of thunder? Or was it yours too?

You await his response. The disturbance that creeps up behind your back is suffocating. 

But the only thing you see in his eyes is sorrow. 

Emerald green, eyes that usually basked in glossed solemnity, faltering before your very eyes. Eyes that go soft, only in the light of your very presence.

How it started? You’re not sure. How he moved after despite your purposeful ignorance? He was too quick that he appeared in front of you, right in the blink of your teary eyes.

The tip of his finger, pointed under your chin as he invites the tiniest scrap of magic to use to make you look up at him. Just what was he planning to do next? Chant out an ancient spell that sends your head hitting the pillow the next instant? But you can’t deny, his face was..a sight to take in. You were probably missing out the past couple of nights chatting with him under the light pole that weakly casts light upon your talking bodies, due to Ramshackle still having yet to be renovated, possibly throwing away a couple of thousands of thaumarks just to fix that age-old building which sends a storm of dust flying your way.

“Child of man,” Your eyes focus solely on him. “do I have your appropriate consent?”

Appropriate consent? Your mind strays off to countless possibilities—what possible measures could he have thought about taking, dubious enough to ask for your very own consent, one that comes out from your own mouth that speaks your heart but doesn’t dare to speak the very depths of your mind?

Malleus remains poised—as usual, regal air that he carries around with him everywhere. On the other hand, you were conflicted. A one-of-a-kind chance! One of his supporters would persuade. You had no idea what he could be hiding behind his front. The blood in your veins run cold, but the scars-the blazing scars you obtained through the numerous overblots. The unpaid labour that you were coerced into, making you scurry from left to right for a certain mage, the restless nights where you had to skim through unfamiliar formulas as it started downing on your brain.

But you choose to trust. For the first time in a while, because your heart knows he isn’t the type of person. 

Nodding, you feel your eyes fall shut.

His steady fingers, tracing the very tip of your jawline, a passion that radiates out of his own intimacy, cracking under the closure of your eyes. You wish you could open them, but you didn’t want to interrupt the loving sensations that brought the utmost peace to your wounded soul. It didn’t feel like thorns pricking at your skin, no, but a bundle of tight roses, presented in the most delicate fashion that soothed the invading noises that thundered in your head, which now felt like a distant memory.

The colour of fiery red, the same colour that splashed his heart, setting it ablaze, only the best for the person who saw beyond his frontal image. The person who saw such rumours about him silly. The person who was able to grasp his heart and bond it with their never-ending kindness.

And you feel him hesitate. But he was still the same as you ever saw him.

The Malleus Draconia, who would stop at nothing to protect your defenseless body from anything that dares to bring harm to you.

Who would take an excruciating sword to the heart for your own sake.

The Malleus Draconia, who would make the sun and the moon collide, just for you.

The tears begin falling, they’re non-stop, and they don’t plan to stop any time soon. The love-filled kisses he leaves on your jawline feels deep. Full of months from craving, since the moment he found out about your existence in this twisted world. He figures how much you abhorred it all around, and all the awful memories that relives itself through your mind each and every night, memories that morphed itself into nightmares.

But he whispers into your ear once again that he’ll bring you into a world full of sweet dreams, that you’ll no longer have to brood over such ugly daydreams that echoes blanky into your head. He continues his nurturing actions, his intoxicating kisses, feeling that his gift of love was far from ending.

Because he only wants to bathe you in all forms of peace, something that he couldn’t sincerely feel until he met you. So he’s simply giving back what he took.

A worthy gift from the heart, healing on this helpless night, no?

[giuseppe-yuki]

Kimi woth tiger gf, he wants to do something and she doesnt, yeah she will lay down on him, in her tiger form and they are not going anywhere

it's a real handy thing, for sure!

a small blurb below :)

your eyes widen as you hear the words coming out of your boyfriend's mouth.

"five miles is totally fine- yes! okay, we will be there. see you at 6:30!"

snapping your head towards kimi's figure in his bedroom doorway, you question him.

"five miles for what?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

he throws his phone onto the messy side table next to his bed before climbing into bed next to you.

"running!" he states, tucking himself into the soft covers next to you.

immediately, you grasp kimi's arm, and turn him towards you, scaring him a little bit.

"andrea kimi anotonelli, you did not just sign me up for a five mile run at 6:30am," you exclaim, looking at him disbelievingly. you loved kimi to the moon and back, but you found it hard to believe there was any way anyone would voluntarily wake up that early to run.

kimi blinks at you innocently, blanket wrapped around his head snugly with one curl sticking out.

"um..." he starts. "well, my trainer said it's good to get some exercise during an off weekend!"

"well, not at 6:30 freaking am!" you snap back incredulously. "please call whoever that was and tell them that we will not be attending this event."

at the crack of dawn, you hear the familiar buzzing of kimi's alarm. it sounds in your ear like a foghorn, wiping the drowsiness from your eyes. you feel the warmth of kimi’s arms being removed from your midriff, and his slight shuffling as he starts to scoot off the bed.

“kimi…” you rasp, turning towards him. “why are you awake so early?”

“the run, remember?” he says, yawning and running a hand through his mussed up hair.

you groan into your hands. “kimi, i thought i told you to cancel it? i have no energy, and i cannot run even half a mile. come back to bed pleaseeeee!”

kimi grasps your shoulders, looking at you with puppy eyes. “just a teeny tiny run? please? ollie and his girlfriend will be there too! i know how much you like hanging out with them!”

scooting up to sit up against the soft pillows and wooden backboard on kimi’s bed, you shake your head incredulously. “five miles is a teeny run? that’s easy for you to say! you are probably used to the ridiculous training regiments from your trainer! and besides, i’m going out to eat with ollie’s girlfriend tomorrow anyways.”

“but-“ he starts, again trying to persuade you.

having no choice but to use your last resort, you shift into your tiger form and lay on top of kimi, basically squishing his body under your weight.

“hey!” he shouts, flailing his limbs. “this is so not fair!”

you snap your jaw at him, dangerously close to his head, as if saying, we are not going anywhere.

you lay like that for a while, until kimi gives up trying to worm his way out from underneath you. it makes you giggle internally as kimi pouts at you silently, with just his head, one arm, and one leg sticking out from under your thick coat of fur.

when you shift back into your human form an hour later- way after the time slot you were supposed to leave- kimi glares at you.

you smile at his annoyed expression, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“thank you so much for choosing to stay in bed with me, baby! now, can we cuddle?”

[ao3cassandraic]

As far as they can

At the end of the Job minisode, Crowley inaugurates Their Side by proclaiming Aziraphale "an angel who goes along with Heaven... as far as he can," parallel to his own stated relationship with Hell.

Only it... doesn't actually work that way. Their exactlies are different exactlies.

Crowley defies and lies to Hell as often as he thinks he can get away with it. He never disabuses Downstairs of their misconceptions about his contributions to human atrocities. He cheerfully lies in his reports Downstairs, something Aziraphale briefly turns on his Baritone of Sarcastic Disapproval about in s1. Crowley even turns evil homeopathic in the latter part of the 20th century, likely in hopes that it will look good to head office while accomplishing essentially nothing. (This, of course, is another way he Crowleys himself, both with the London phone system and the M25.) After Eden, Crowley's default given an assignment from Hell is to see how he can subvert it.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, defies Her and Heaven as little as he possibly can. Sometimes, as with his sword giveaway, his compassion gets the better of his anxiety. Sometimes, as with Job's children in the destruction of the villa, he can try to stay within the letter of the law by leaving the defiance to Crowley.

His default, however, is "'m 'nangel. I can't dis- diso -- not do what 'm told." This comes out most often as respect for the Great/Divine Plan, which to him is sacrosanct. He sounds quite sincere in s1 when he says "Even if I wanted to help I couldn’t. I can’t interfere with the Divine Plan."

Aziraphale quite frequently Good Angels along by parroting Heaven's party line, whether it's "it'll all be rather lovely" or "I am good, you (I'm afraid) are evil" or droning on about evil containing the seeds of its own destruction, or condemning Elspeth's graverobbing as "wicked" (a stance he offers absolutely no reasoned support for, no logic, no "but She said," not a word -- that's very Heaven; most of Heaven's angels have the approximate brainpower of paramecia). Maestro Michael Sheen even has a particular voice cadence -- I think of it as Sententious Voice -- he uses when Aziraphale is thoughtlessly party-lining.

When the angel's conscience wars with his sense of Heaven's orthodoxy but (and this is an important but) he can't feasibly resist whatever's wrong, he offers strengthless party-line justifications he clearly doesn't agree with (as with the "rain bow" in Mesopotamia) or resorts to a Nuremberg defense: "I'm not consulted on policy decisions, Crowley!" Once or twice, he's even vocally aware of Heavenly hypocrisy: "Unless… [guns]'re in the right hands, where they give weight to a moral argument… I think." This isn't Sententious Voice. It's I-can't-disobey-and-I-hate-that voice.

But at base, the angel prefers obedience (not least because it's vastly safer), and he'd rather have someone else do his moral reasoning for him. Honestly? Pretty relatable. I know lots of people like this -- hell's bells, I've been this person, though I grew out of it somewhat -- and I daresay you do too. Moral reasoning is hard and often lonely (since it can be read as self-righteousness or even hypocrisy) and acting as it dictates can hurt. Nobody would need ethics codes if The Right Thing was also invariably The Convenient Thing.

Many GO fans find these Aziraphalean traits frustrating! Especially his repeated returns to parroting Heaven orthodoxy! Sometimes I do too! (Not least because I'm rather protective of my own integrity, and it's cost me quite a few times. I'm well-known in professional circles for picking up a rhetorical spear and tilting at the nearest iniquitous windmill. I often lose, but I sure do keep tilting. Every once in a blue moon I actually win one.)

The key, I think, to giving our angel a little grace on this (beyond honoring the gentle compassion that is pretty basic to his character) is noticing how often he can be induced to abandon an unconsidered Heavenish default stance. As irritating as his default is, and as consistently as he returns to it, it's not really that hard to talk him out of it. Crowley, of course, is tremendously good at knocking Aziraphale away from his default -- he's had to be. But Aziraphale even manages to talk himself away from his default once, in the form of the Ineffable Plan hairsplitting at the airbase!

I think the character-relevant point of the Resurrectionist minisode is making this breaking-the-Heavenish-default dynamic as clear as the contents of the pickled-herring barrel aren't. "That's lunatic!" Crowley exclaims, when Aziraphale Sententious Voicedly parrots Heaven's garbage about poverty providing extra opportunities for goodness. Aziraphale isn't quite ready to let go yet, replying "It's ineffable."

But Dalrymple (who, I think, parallels Heaven, perhaps even the Metatron -- there could be something decent there, but it's buried too deep under scorn and clueless privilege for any graverobber-of-souls to dig it out) manages to break Aziraphale's orthodoxy by explaining the child's tumor.

Once released from his orthodoxy, Aziraphale can't be trusted to handle moral reasoning well; his moral-reasoning ability is not-uncommonly (though not always) portrayed as vitiated. When he gives Elspeth the go-ahead to dig up more bodies, his excuses are just as vacuous as they were when he was convinced of her wickedness. He knows that he's crossed Heaven's line, too, and just as at Eden it's worrying him. That's why he has to talk to Crowley to nerve himself up to help Wee Morag... only he spends too much time talking, and it's too late.

But Crowley can then talk him into bankrolling Elspeth toward a better life. Aziraphale doesn't even put up any fight, both because he's compassionate and because Crowley is temporarily taking the place of Heaven (he's even Heaven-sized and staring down at them!) as the angel's moral compass.

S1 has an even worse example of Aziraphale's moral wavering, actually. Crowley yells "Shoot him, Aziraphale!" and Aziraphale sure does try to murder Adam. Again, he's adopting his morals from the nearest (and loudest) convenient source. Madame Tracy, thankfully, has enough of a moral backbone to save our angel from himself and Crowley.

(With my ersatz-ethicist hat on: this is a fight between utilitarianism and deontology. Crowley is the utilitarian, which is actually a bit of a departure for him, but he's admittedly desperate. Madame Tracy is the deontologist: One Doesn't Kill Children. Aziraphale is caught in the middle.)

I wouldn't be surprised if part of the reason we start s3 with Aziraphale and Crowley separated is so that Aziraphale finally has to do his own moral reasoning, without Crowley's nudges. I don't think it'll be easy for him. It will absolutely be lonely. And it may well hurt.

But I will watch for it, because it's how he will become his own angel, independent of Heaven and even of Crowley. And he must do that.

[leewritestoomuch]

Is multiple characters(separate) allowed? I was thinking a NSFW with a reader that gets flustered easily for Gen, Senku, and Ukyo!

Hi! Yes, multiple characters is allowed! Also, sorry, I only half assed listened to the request because Senku's felt so much more natural to write sfw.

WARNINGS: NSFW (only in Gen and Ukyo's)

Gen Asagiri

Once this man notices that you easily get flustered, he is wielding that knowledge like a weapon.

He'd be good with his words to be able to fluster you without even having to resort to close proximity.

Just silly compliments can fluster you, so soon he's taking it a step closer.

He likes to say things that take you a second to comprehend the meaning of. He'll tell you something that could mean 2 things, one more innocent, one not so much, in passing. By the time you realize, he's not even in the room anymore.

You're usually super embarrassed, but he just finds it cute and endearing.

The times that he stays after flustering you with a suggestive comment, he'll wait until you get it, then use close proximity to fluster you next.

He goes from verbally teasing you, to tilting your chin up with his pointer finger. He'll get so close you can feel his breath on your face, and from here, these interactions could go one of two ways: he may say you have something on your face, dust it off, and walk away as if he's done nothing, or the latter would be he FINALLY kisses you.

Definitely the type to tease you by pushing your legs apart with his knee, keeping it there. Don't question me on that.

Most likely character to tease you in public, but refuse to do the real thing. That's a private matter, he's just sneaky enough to tease you.

Praise or degrading in bed, whatever you'd prefer, he's using it to tease you. The blush on your face spreads down your body and that drives him crazy (or the heat if the blush wouldn't be visible)

"use your words" makes you say things you don't really wanna say out loud even if he understands what you mean.

(this man can make you cum without touching you and nobody can convince me otherwise. I don't accept critique.)

Senku Ishigami

Accidentally flusters you half of the time.

He thinks nothing of getting right in your face for something or touching you to measure you or something like that. He's unbothered because he's simply not worried about that right now.

And honestly, most of the time he won't bother to go out of his way to fluster you.

Eventually he'd realize from time to time

Like the time he pulled you out to stargaze with him.

Sure, he'd intended for it to be a date of sorts, but he doesn't really swoon at the idea of how romantic it is. He enjoys stargazing and space and all that, and its time he could be spending with you so why not just combine the things he loves into one activity?

You, on the other hand, were super nervous to speak or anything. The still of the night made it romantic, but also terrifying. It's just you, him, and the moon and stars.

He's probably talking your ear off about space and what you're looking at, not that you mind, but eventually he turns onto his side to fully face you.

You get super flustered, and for once he can't help but notice and honestly, now that he's thinking about it, you make him little nervous.

He feels that it's illogical to feel like some giddy, hopelessly in love teenager when he looks at you, but he can't help it.

Now he's just as flustered.

He struggles with initiating physical contact, but he's direct with it. He'll scoot closer and kiss you.

Then you'll both just stare in silence, occasionally opening your mouths to say something and getting nothing out.

He'd take your hand and let you both fall into a comfortable silence where you both almost drift off in each other's company.

Ukyo Saionji

It's easy to forget this man was pretty cocky.

I think at first in a relationship, he'd just be sweet and very humble, but now you've been with him for quite sometime and he won't let you forget how much he turns you on.

He's soft whispers and gentle touches to send your mind in a spiral right into the gutter and your stomach to a butterfly farm.

His favorite thing would be a back hug where he breathes in your scent and whispers against the shell of your ear, his hands running up your hips, gradually rising higher with each pass as he begins to move under your shirt.

He knows the power he has over you, but he's going to drive you crazy with whispered sweet nothings and gentle gestures.

He's an honest flirt, and that naturally flusters you. He's aware of that.

Eventually, the gentle touches get a bit more obvious and brass.

Those hands on your hips would pull you back against him.

Flusters you by insisting you be vocal in bed and then moaning about how pretty your noises are.

You'll never meet a man more in love with you. He'll fluster you by never letting you forget this.

He praises every part of your body, every noise you make, anything really.

Not related, but Ukyo would send you love letters if he had to go away on a trip and you couldn't go (pretend that's possible in the New Stone Age)

[bowieandqueen11]

Honeymooning With Steven Grant Would Include...

I’m so so sorry to the lovely anon who requested this - I tried to copy this into my drafts and accidentally deleted half of it :( I remember it being for honeymoon headcanons, so I hope this is alright love! 

(I do not own Moon Knight or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @marc-spectorr.)

Warning: nothing too explicit, but NSFW so 18+ please!

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

Do you have any idea?? How soft I am for this?? I am so soft I am YEARNING you have made me yearn god I love this concept so much

I feel like the two of you would go somewhere sunny: perhaps a couple of weeks in Egypt, staying in a nice resort by the Red Sea, since Steven is so fed up of the dreary London weather. Just a really nice spot, where the two of you can hire out a boat for the day, and he can sit holding you at the back and feed you strawberries. If he’s not too busy trying to taunt you with the fruit, or giggling like bursts of sunlight as you nip at his fingers, he’s leaning awkwardly over your head to give you a sweet upside down kiss. His lips are so plump, so tender as his top lip latches onto your bottom one, that for a moment the two of you are lost in a sweet abyss where the only thing that exists is the tart tang of each other’s mouths. Or, the poor man is holding onto your biceps for dear life, only being drawn away from your lips by the feel of the boat rocking wildly from side to side.

As twilight began to flood in, flitting past your eyes like a gliding moth chasing the last drop of the honey sun with its velvet tail, you and Steven perch up from where you’re entangled on the chaise longue. Underneath the silver flecks of the waves, a few hawksbill turtles languidly glider underneath the navy froth. Steven’s eyes immediately light up, seeming to glow like shining jewels against the strung lights hanging from the masts. ‘Turtles’, he whispers and points towards the water, turning to look at you as if he’d just seen true magic. You grip onto his finger and place his palm flatly against yours, doing your best not to laugh when he squeals and buries his head deeply into your neck. ‘Yes love’, you caress your free hand through his stubborn curls, ‘those are definitely turtles.’

He nearly loses his mind when a dolphin appears above the crest of the water line. He has to lie down for a little bit against your chest, panting like crazy and his heart racing a mile per minute because even though it’s day one, he’s becoming a bit overwhelmed by all of this bless him. You just snuggle down around him, rubbing your nose against the shell of his ear and whispering sweet nothings until he finally calms down. He looks so calm, so peaceful, with his pursed lips rising and falling in time with his chest, that you’re not too surprised when he begins to snore a few minutes later. 

He makes you leave the hotel room before dinner for a couple of minutes while he gets dressed. With an ear pressed up against the door, you ignore the weird looks you’re getting from the elderly vacationers heading down to the dining hall as you listen to the thud of Steven falling across the floor. He seems to be... jumping, probably trying to pull his trousers up quickly, which is followed by the sound of a hanger crashing onto the floor and a squeaky ‘oh, bollocks!’. You’re pressing a finger to your lips to stop yourself erupting when he finally unlatches the door, but it immediately drops down to your side when you take him in. He’s wearing his best polka dot yellow tie and sheepish smile, gazing down in terror at his feet and back up at you. He’s got a squashed box of chocolates in one hand, and a rather pressed bouquet of roses in the other; it almost takes your breath away, since he looks almost identical to the way he arrived at your doorstep for your first date. Even though you’re married now, his arm is still shaking as he offers it to you, and he still sighs a breath of relief when you loop your own through enthusiastically.

‘I’d been dreaming of this moment ever since I first put eyes on you, you know that love?’ He manages to say between shaking words as he leans you downstairs. ‘Every night. All I could blooming think about was how lucky I would be if I could hold your hand every night. You might as well pinch me right now, ‘cause I must be blinking dreaming.’

You spend a lot of your honeymoon down by the sandy strips, sharing a sun lounger and lying together underneath the warm shelter of a beach umbrella. He would read to you, his lips brushing against the tip of each with the pronunciation of each word: hot, tingly, the inside of his lip dragging against your earlobe from time to time. Eventually, when he noticed you were starting to fall asleep from where you were tucked up around his arm, he would become like a big child. He would teasingly shove you with his shoulder with a booming ‘tag, you’re it!’, before giggling as heartily as birdsong and running off across the sand. You finally manage to rugby tackle him down after a solid ten minutes of him skiting around the place, and he looks up at you as if you hung every swinging star in the sky as you hold him in place. Your legs are firm against the taut muscle of his calves, your hands pinning his trembling wrists above his head, and his breath is shaky as you press your weight against his lower abdomen, your bottom resting firmly against his groin.

He feels he’s about to pass out as you let go of his left wrist to run your fingers gingerly across the stubble of his jaw, before cupping his chin to hold in in place. He squirms beneath you, beginning to mewl as you lean down to kiss him. You’re quickly thrown to the side before lips can meet, though, as Steven manages to get you turned and shelters you from the massive wave that comes breaking onto the shore. When he looks down at you, sea water dripping down his wet hair and onto your nose with the most disappointed face in the world, you can’t help but squeeze your eyes shut in laughter. 

This man is the BIGGEST softie in the world oml. You come wandering out of the bathroom that night, not expecting to see Steven biting his bottom lip and jutting his chin out. He’s muttering nervously to himself, a quiet ‘oh dear, oh dearie me’ busting out of him as he squats down and runs back and forth across the floorboards like a terrified little crab. He’s grabbing at rose petals he tried to shower across the floor, not realising the cool night breeze would burst in through the French doors and steal them away. When he notices you from the corner of his eye, he quickly straightens up, hiding the woven basket behind his back. He pretends he doesn’t know what’s going on as you walk over to him, but when you drop your towel and grab the back of his head to bring him down for a fervent kiss, the basket is quickly dropped to the floor and the jig is up.

Bro.. bro... oh my god, the body worship this man is hellbent on showing you is beyond crazy on your honeymoon. Like, dear lord, turn it up by a hundred and you might get a little closer to understanding how this emotionally vulnerable, touch starved, drowning in love man might be. I mean, Steven’s always been a giver if you know what I mean, but this is just next level. He’s so nervous though the sweetie pie, that you decide to help him out by loosening his tie. He’s nearly drooling on the floor by the time you throw it off of him, standing there like putty in your hand and just watching with lovesick eyes as you undress him. When his mind finally registers the almost inaudible pop of his shirt buttons though, he’s full on racked by whole body shivers as your palms glide the material apart from his chest. His firm pecs tighten against the feel of your bare skin against his, and behind the breathless inhale he swears he could die quite happily right now as long as you just don’t stop.

When he finally can’t take it anymore, it’s your turn to groan as he grabs onto the back of your thighs and shoves you backwards, pulling your bottom until it’s resting at the edge of the mattress. He slots his frame between your legs, knees coming down onto the floor as he buries himself between your soft flesh in ineffable bliss. Your thighs tighten around his head, and he breathes against your inner thighs as he kisses a path up them, gripping tenderly onto the back of your leg. When a little bit of extra oomph seems to overcome him, and his teeth nips across your panty line as they try to pull the seam of your underwear down, he immediately starts cooing and pressing a delicate brush of his nose against the mark, as if in apology. 

Although he’s far better around you, some nights Steven still doesn’t sleep very well. You do your best to wake him up gently on these days, unlatching him from where his legs have tumbled onto yours during the night to start the kettle going. The smell of peppermint tea always perks him straight out of his dreams, and so he curls the duvet around his head like a hedgehog diving into the soft mound of a giant marshmallow as he goes looking for you. His feet slog around the room until he reaches the kitchenette, and he feels his heart begin to fizzle and pound as if a thousand scarabs were flitting around trying to escape the mortal walls when he spots you bopping around to the static hum of the radio. He immediately scares the pants off you by wrapping his arms around your waist, joining in your dance by swaying your hips side to side in time with his own. He’s impossibly close, his warm breath tingling against your neck as he kisses you. Suddenly, you’re enveloped by darkness, realising Steven’s taking the opportunity to assimilate you into the duvet fortress as well, so he can lean down and kiss every inch of exposed skin on your face and neck as he can, with a billion rushed pecks. You finally manage to push him off by pressing your hand against his mouth, and he relents to go get some tea.

The two of you sit knee to knee, criss crossed on top of the unmade bed. ‘We’re married’, he suddenly says, sitting bolt upright as if he’d been shocked between sips from his cup. ‘Yes, Steven’, you reply as he turns to look at you with a smile of pure wonderment, ‘I remember. I was there too.’

‘But it wasn’t a dream. That actually happened. You married me. This isn’t a joke, is it?’

‘It’s not a joke, Steven. I love you’, you state plainly, grabbing onto the back of his hand.

You can see the tears begin to gather behind his bloodshot eyes, his bottom lip blubbering out as his fingers turn to grip, almost painfully, the ends of your own. ‘I love you more than everything in the universe, Y/n.’

I mean, it’s Steven Grant so you 100% go sightseeing around the place! He so delicately holds your hand on the bus, nearly vibrating out of his seat he’s so excited. He even manages to ignore the side-eyes of fellow passengers as you pass by a really exciting historic site, Steven’s shoulder butting against your own as he points out to everything through the window. He hunches over your side until he’s nearly fully leaning onto you as he begins to rush out a boatload of facts he’s learnt from his books back at home. By the end of the night he’s so exhausted he’s fully lying across both the seats, legs planted in the aisle and his head blissfully cradled in your lap. His content smile is literally beauty incarnate, and you can’t help but disturb him from his sleep by kissing the tip of his nose. He replies by latching onto your top lip when you go to pull away, pressing his tongue tiredly against your own before flopping back against your knee as if he’d just won the lottery.

Steven definitely makes you take silly photographs in front of everything you go to see: the picture he took of you jumping in front of the pyramids past Cairo end up pinned on the wall next to his fish tank. After he kisses you goodbye in the mornings before work, it’s become part of his routine to also press a kiss against your cheek in the picture <3

Although he did manage to come round one of the market stalls holding a stray cat in his arms. With pleading eyes, he sounded like he was about to burst out crying as he looked at you, sniffling.

‘Can we keep him?’

‘Steven, how are we supposed to smuggle a cat back in our suitcase??’

‘He can have my plane seat instead, I don’t mind :(’

He tugs you down back alleys during your last few days in Egypt, running down cobblestoned streets hand in hand, flying across the dusty ground like loose kites free in the breeze. He’s on the hunt for a second hand bookstore: one he gets lost in almost immediately. You finally manage to find him hunched over by a knobbly looking bookshelf in a dusty side crevice near the back of the small shop. You have to literally hitch yourself over a pile of pretty worn, ancient looking encyclopaedias, shimmy past a dusty looking globe, and brush through a gap between two lined oaken bookshelves before you spot him. He doesn’t realise you’re behind him until your arms are squeezing around his soft belly, and you’re kissing the bunched material between his shoulder blades. His hand comes up to squeeze your fingers as he gives you a loving, slightly embarrasssed ‘oh! Hello love! Fancy seeing you here!’

He becomes even more shocked when, after you’ve finished resting your nose against his back and just breathing him in for a moment, you spin him round to face you. His eyes widen as he drops the book he was looking at onto his feet, but the confusion is quickly replaced by his features melting into one of intoxication as you press a lingering kiss against the side of his mouth. His eyes are blinking slowly, trying to shut as he crumples against your chest, his elbow knocking backwards and nearly knocking over a few piles of books domino style.

He literally tells you he loves you at least ten times a day. It just blurts out of him, as if he’s going to burst if he doesn’t get to say it. Baby. Baby boy. He deserves this forever love, and has wished for nothing more since the two of you first met.

[tcshi]

BLUE LOCK YANDERE : mikage reo

⚠︎ : dark content ahead ! obsessed!reo, noncon/dubcon, hints of kidnapping, drugging, fingering, reo is an absolute creep in this one, lmk if i missed anything, minors do not interact.

reo loves you most like this.

docile and putty in his arms.

well... he knows it's because it had been 9 months since you've touched, conversed or seen any other people besides him. but this thought lies trivial in his head because reo had already made himself believe that it's certainly not the case.

his pretty doll... you're here because you want to, right? you're here staying with him in his impractical, grandiose manor an hour and a half away from the city because you love him, yes? you love him. and nothing could change that irrefutable fact.

not even when there are certain days where you would stare at him, dark glaring eyes and frowning face as if telling him without needing to open your mouth that you disgust me and i fucking hate you as you're sat on your side of the bed, chained to the ceiling of the room while he slips on his training gear. not even when you would utter the words that you knew reo loathed, especially coming from the same mouth who blabbered incoherent proclamations of your love for him when you're all dopeyㅡall because of a special drug concocted just for him to use on you, something that his multi-million dollar name can provide and can hide from the public just like how his name managed to manipulate the case of your disappearance.

so when you take your own initiative to seek for him and his comfort, reo takes more than what you're offering. it's because it's rare. it happens once in a blue moon and who's to predict when this'll happen again? right? right.

so when you start pushing his hands away from wandering underneath your (his) shirt, his cold fingertips dragging against your skin until they're fiddling with the hem of your cotton panties, he's ignoring your pleas of stopping. your voice is nothing but a soothing melody that reaches his ears, warms his heart and sends a bolt of shock that makes the length in between his legs throb with want.

reo ignores the way your tears cascaded beautifully on your cheeks and although he takes more than a necessary second to watch your crying face, he dips a finger inside your panties with comforting words that weren't at all comforting.

you continue to writhe against his hold but to no avail, you were still too weak from the events that took place not even a full 24-hour ago and instead continue to voice out your pleas for him to stop.

reo doesn't stop of course. you're in no place to tell him what to do. he loves you, very much so but he will never take your word for anything except when you're trying to convince yourself (and him) that you love him.

he traces the sheer arousal that coated your pussy lips, planting soft kisses on the side of your head before he finally slips a finger in, expertly maneuvering his digit to the spot that had you moaning and finally temporarily ceasing your annoying cries for him to stop.

thank fuck that you did. reo really doesn't want to resort in plastering your lips with duck tape again because he loves to shove his tongue inside your mouth while he's fucking you. he also loves hearing you whine and moan for him but he can't exactly do those things when you've got your lips sealed right?

reo makes a quick work of easing down his own shorts with one hand, slipping it off from his ankles and letting the fabric fall down the bed while he's busy finger-fucking you.

he traces the outline of your breast through your shirt, palming your chest before he's pinching and rolling your hardened nipple in between his fingers.

“god... so fucking pretty...” he groans in your ears, rubbing his dick against the skin of your plump ass. he licks the tears that fell down from your eyes, moaning at the salty taste as you gasp and trash in his hold, mouth pleading for him to go fasterㅡstop, please but you're very much evidently grinding against the flat of his palm, rubbing your engorged clit against the rough skin.

reo chuckles darkly, raising your shirt up and bunching it in his palms before he's shoving it in your mouth. he cups your bare breast with his free hand, continuously pumping his finger in and out of your cunny before he’s pushing two more fingers in, one that had you sobbing.

“reo please... i need itㅡplease..” you babble incoherently. gone completely was your cry of asking him to stop, oh so sweetly whining his name and pleading with him while you're busy grounding yourself against his hand.

he gives your temple another kiss, eyes glazed over as he watches his fingers covered in your slick disappear in your pussy.

“yeah?” reo challenges, other hand tweaking your pebbled nipples. “gonna let me take of ya, my pretty baby?”

when you nod your head erratically, he knows the newest version of the drug in your system was more than a success and was more than efficient enough to hold its effects. he'll just have to observe the longevity of this one, then he'll be back into slipping one of the same pills in your drink and watch as you tether between your morals or succumbing to him completely. you'll come around, and it won't be for far too long.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

I am fucking WEAK for the Anselem-Reader-Blue throuple, I’ve never even seen either movies (just clips) but I am so obsessed that they’re just addicted to each other and Blue is the subbiest sub to ever sub and they’re not letting him out of their sight ugh I want him to just abandon it all and stay in their mansion as their free use little baby boy

Hzshdasudihasiodu ahhhh! Thank you so much, you have made my day!

Also: HELL YES. Here are some:

Trine Headcanons

Anselm Volgelweide x F!Reader x Blue Jones • Rating: 18+ pals • Masterlist • ao3 • want to be tagged? | requestinfo • ko-fi •

Warnings: Blue being a little shit, mentions of bjs, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 524

Blue spends more and more (and more) time with Anselm and you, literally he’s practically moved it. (And put his stuff everywhere.) 

He is terrible with boundaries, something’s in the house? Oh, that’s his. Food in the fridge? Must be his too. Clothing in the wardrobe, not in his size, with a post stick note on it that says ‘This is not Blue’s’? That must be a typo, because he’s taking it to the tailor. And it’s his now as well. 

You resort to a water spray bottle, and spray him whenever he’s getting too excitable with all the new things he’s ‘found’. 

He’s a cat in human form. 

Takes to wearing a silk robe that is a fraction too short for most polite company (good thing you and Anselm are nowhere near polite) and flouncing around the mansion being a nuisance to your staff and begging for (demanding) attention from both you and Anselm every chance he gets.

Wakes up one morning and realises he hasn’t been to the club in over two weeks. Panics. And then calms down when you play with his hair while Anselm deep throats him, and tell him that you’d sent a stand in manager to keep an eye on things for him ages ago. 

Blue never worries about the club again. 

You take him on holiday with you both and he acts like a spoilt brat the whole time, making an absolute fuss of everything when he’s with Anselm - so Anselm will punish him. And being the sweetest little angel for you - so you’ll call him a good boy and let him sit on your lap during dinner. 

Always ends up sleeping between you both, even if you all fall asleep with someone else in the middle. It’s not an intentional thing, and none of you are quite sure how it happens like clockwork and without waking anyone up. Anselm calls it one of Blue’s many party tricks.

Blue gets very self conscious and moody when someone else makes the assumption that he is either Anselm’s or your piece on the side. “Not both?” The outrage is so strong.

He has a reputation for being even more dangerous now that he has the Vogelweide backing, and because Anselm hired a guard for Blue whose only job is to shoot people Blue tells him to shoot. (He doesn’t like getting his hands dirty.) 

When Anselm is in his office taking meetings and you’re hanging out on the chaise lounge to the side Blue likes to sit on the floor next to you. 

Both you and Anselm have tried to convince him to let you get either a bigger chaise lounge or any other seat for him, but he refuses. Preferring to recline, rather dramatically, on the floor with his head tilted back and resting against the chaise lounge seat cushions so you can play with his hair and stroke his face.

Quite often hugs your leg and kisses your knees if they are within reach. 

Has sucked off Anselm under his desk while he’s in the middle of a meeting more than once - and isn’t subtle about it. 

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh

@romanarose @strangerhands @saturn-rings-writes @lonelyisamyw-0love @queerponcho

@steven-grants-world  @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @lunar-ghoulie

@silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin @apesarecuul @reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom

@alwaysmicado @mangoslushcrush @marc-spectorr @soft-girl-musings  @spxctorsslxt

@novarosewood

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[neocoffeecafe]

quiet (m) | home | writing masterlist | fic rec library

includes/warnings mirror sex, unprotected sex, fem!reader, creampie, mostly clothed sex, keeping quiet, mean neighbors, mean dom!yangyang, plus sized friendly!reader, choking, spit swallowing, big dick!yang, degradation, pet names, etc

wc 1k

a/n i love rough smut and soft aftercare

“you said you’d keep quiet.”

but how could you?

he's got one hand stuffed in your little wet pink laced panties and the other arm snaked up over your belly and his fingers threaten your airstream.

your legs rapidly shift back and forth as his speed quickens, his fingernails teasing your bud. for the nth time, you cum on his hand. and once again, he has you tasting your own cum and his tight grip on your face makes you watch your pretty reflection as it sucks on yangyangs fingers.

he releases his fingers with a pop to your cherry lips, smiling down at your twitching body with this shit-eating grin on his face as he is well aware of the impact just his fingers have on you.

“please.” you beg again that night, fingers playing with the hem of his hoodie that you wore and hips bucking upwards which is received by a steady hand pressing you back on the mattress.

“i already said no. you’re too loud. you don’t want the neighbors to hear, do you?”

no.

last time the neighbors heard loud screams and the sounds of the bed smacking against the wall, they came and gave yangyang a homemade knuckle sandwich that wasn't so appetizing. they were upset, rightfully so, that they were woken up so early in the morning by their sex-driven neighbors who just couldn’t tame themselves.

he slapped the side of your face, just to get you to focus back on him. to stare at his eyes in the mirror that loomed over you like a wolf ready to strike a poor rabbit, helpless of its defenses.

“well? you don’t want them to hear us do you?”

he was teasing you. threatening you.

“please.” you beg, feeling his fingers on your neck again.

“please what? you think the neighbors will hear your cries and begs for help?”

his hand leaves the warmth of your core and you whine in response, getting a slap to the side of your face in return.

“slut.” he spits. “you better stay quiet.” he hisses, his one hand skillfully pulling the lace off of you, discarding it to the abyss of the floor of the bedroom. the same hand fumbles with his belt and slips it away from his waist, placing the belt on the bed. you gasp as you hear the sound of the zippers to his jeans zipping down, and watch as his flesh is now visible to your eye.

his hand is slow as it slides up and down, up and down, up and down…

“what if this was you, sweetheart? such a shame you can’t be quiet enough for it.”

your hand betrays your body as it instinctively reaches for his cock, but your stopped by a hand gripping your wrist tightly.

“nuh uh. not so fast.” he pushes you off of him, and in a swift motion you’re not in between his legs in his lap anymore.

the mirror is blocked by his body above you, and your vision is cut off by his face as his lips connect with yours, effectively keeping you quiet as his tip presses your core.

god he was so close to bottoming out and completely destroying your walls, having you fly your arms around his arched back. your sharp nails resort to dig into his skin, clawing at his back as he shows his first sign of weakness: a little whimper.

you eye the crescent moons that decorated his honey skin, both crotches humping each other as he was not willing to slide into you yet. he wasn’t willing to let the bed smack against the wall.

not yet, at least.

his lips leave your face and move to nibble at your neck, catching your skin in between his teeth and sucking on it after, like soothing a wound.

finally, you feel just his tip inside of you.

“more.” you whimper, your voice hushed.

“patience, princess.” he snarls, his teeth pressing down especially hard at your request for more of him, his cock slowly slipping further and further inside of you, but stops. “thats one.”

“fuck.” you’re relieved but also disappointed as you now understand, he’s making you count inches.

“you can count the rest, baby.”

so you do.

you count. and count. and count, until you finally reach seven, and he's balls deep inside. you feel like you can’t breathe, like your airway was taken away from you.

“hold tight, princess. remember: stay quiet.” his lips press to yours again, and he slides out, and thrusts inside much harder than before. he repeats this process until the bed is squeaking and rocking, ever so close to smacking against the wall.

his moans sound so sweet. his lips leave yours abandoned and he’s loud.

his groans and moans are so pretty, his hand lifting your hoodie up and large hand groping your breasts, your own moans syncing in harmony with his, the whole concept of keeping quiet long forgotten when his pace speeds up somehow more, the bed frame now hitting the wall with each sharp thrust.

“fuck baby. you feel so good around me.” he chuckles, his free hand parting your lips to spit in your mouth, leaving you obedient enough to swallow. “you like that?” he hums.

“m’gonna cum.” you whine, your fingernails digging even more into his skin. he sucks his teeth and lets out a loud growl, taking a hand and losing itself in your hair, pulling it and occasionally rubbing your head.

“cum for me.” he commands, his hand from your breast reaching down to play with the parts of your pussy exposed to him, the parts that were smashed by the little orbs on his crotch. “think i’m gonna cum too. cum with me, angel.”

the two of you are on sync as both highs are chased at once, the warm seeds you share mixing together and seeping out of your sore hole. he’s frozen above you, a satisfied grin on his face as you continue to fuck yourself on his cock, pushing his warm cum further in yourself.

“you look so hot with my cum in you.” he leans back, away from you to admire his work. “let’s continue to give the neighbors a little show.”

@neocoffeecafe