#He just wears his sweats everywhere when I draw him

[devilsburger]

Happy Pride

[remotewatch]

handprints, footprints all on my glass

Jack Schlossberg x reader | 1.6k wc

minors dni please and thanks, this is hag business

summary: it’s a short ride from the afterparty to the airport, theoretically

cw: shameless smut, she comes first 💪, dry humping, dom reader sorta, pathetic simp Jack enjoyers make some noise!!!, oral (f receiving), fingering, we’re degrading him a bit whoops, accidental vabbing (?????) girl idk, reader wears the pants not the panties, they’re in one of those Mercedes vans, wear your seatbelts everywhere but here

The jet lag was undoubtedly winning. As luck would have it, the busiest weeks of the year for you and Jack overlapped nearly entirely. It had been nonstop flights, engagements, meetings, press releases, dinner parties, galas, openings of buildings for charities for either dogs or orphans, orphaned dogs maybe, for so long you’d entirely lost track and were ever thankful that most of your speaking assignments were behind you. This last afterparty had fried you both; you didn’t have a single networking conversation left in you. Collapsed opposite you in the jump seat, Jack looked just as spent as you felt.

Of course, he still looked too good. It was fucking sweltering in that venue, and he had loosened his evergreen evening tie and slightly unbuttoned his dress shirt the very second you were shielded by the limo tint. Faint wisps of chest hair peered out from the opening, a fresh tan making his teeth look even whiter. Gun to your head, he’d had his pants taken in too much at the hips, but you’d never say anything that would threaten such a view.

There wasn’t time for that; you were in the home stretch of this hell month and had a packed 16 hour day tomorrow. One last email once over, and you could abandon your work iPad and pass out for the flight back to New York.

“Have you been like that all night?” he asks tentatively.

“Like what?” There’s no immediate response, so you look up from checking tomorrow’s agenda to see Jack shamelessly staring up your cocktail dress at your lack of underwear. The spell breaks when you recross your legs and playfully kick his shin.

“Eyes up here. So what if I was?”

Jack blinks dumbly at you and clears his throat. His eyebrows draw together out of confusion.

“But I saw you get dressed this morning. Where’s that pair I just bought you?”

“They’re wrapped in your pocket square. Did you forget to switch it out for a dry one before lunch?” you ask, holding back a shit-eating grin.

It’s hard to deny the rush you get watching Jack go pale and fish the handkerchief out of the breast pocket of his discarded suit jacket, still sticky from cleaning you up a few hours ago. Sure enough, there’s a crumpled La Perla thong cradled in the middle. You interrupt his stuttering protests when you kick your pumps off and slide a foot up his leg.

“Oh please, like you don’t love walking around smelling like me.”

“I do,” his ears are turning red. “but I hugged like twenty people today!”

“Page six has been trying to pin down that musky “cologne” you use for ages. I think you’re safe.” You briefly wonder if you’re leaking onto the leather seats, but that train of thought is halted by Jack’s hand reaching to remove his tie.

“Keep it on.”

He snaps to attention at the direct order.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I like my handle.”

“Do you come with an off switch?”

Break lights flash on in the surrounding lanes. Just your luck; it’s complete gridlock in the few miles between here and the airpark. Maybe there was a little time.

Your foot slides higher, and Jack hisses through his teeth at the contact.

“Why don’t you try and find it?”

There’s barely a millisecond of hesitation before he falls onto you, licking stripes of sweat off your skin from your cleavage to your cheekbones. As always, he’s loud in the way that only a guy who never gets told to shut the fuck up can be: every breath shudders its way out, and he’s basically whimpering into your mouth by the time he gets there, louder when his right hand finds you, in fact, dripping all over the seat. You doubt you’ll ever get used to how thick his fingers are, or the vulgar noises they make when he’s showing off his grip strength knocking on your g spot.

He’d rolled his shirt sleeves up for the afterparty, but his watch was still squarely in the splash zone, and for the briefest of moments you wonder if it’s as waterproof as the cheaper ones he wears surfing. The thought is quickly pushed aside as Jack works you until you’re jolting off the seat trying to get his fingers deeper.

One good yank on his hair gets him off your neck, and he’s so dazed and fucked out already that you almost cum right there.

“Someone looks hungry,” you tease.

“Fuck, please let me-“ He’s cut off by the van suddenly lurching forward and throwing you both off balance, leaving only your vice grip on his tie keeping him in place. There’s a filthy squelch when he pulls his fingers out to suck them clean as he sinks down to his knees. It’s so warm that your dress is sticking to your thighs, and he rapidly loses patience trying to slide it up to your waist.

“This is a rental!” you squeal when the fabric rips, spraying sequins all over the floor. Jack doesn’t even flinch and wraps his lips snugly around your clit.

“Whatever, I’ll buy it,” he mumbles without breaking contact. You find yourself sliding down the sweat slick leather to grind against his face, and he has the nerve to lean back to watch your hips buck desperately.

“I love when you chase it,” he grins. Without missing a beat, you lock your legs around his head and shut him up against you.

“Don’t fucking tease me. I’m not the one humping the floor like a dog.” The mumbly, docile “sorry” that vibrates through you is the hottest thing he’s said all day. And he really is, if his overly enthusiastic slurping indicates anything. Those rapid, precise little strokes of his tongue always froth you up like he’s got a mouthful of soap. By the time you get tired of spelling your name on his nose and shove him to the floor to straddle his face, he’s completely lathered in you.

He lets out a little bleat of surprise when you roughly grab his hair and start manhandling him as if he’s a wet wipe, though he really should expect it by now. Normally, you’d be distractingly aware of the very real possibility the driver can hear the way you’re snarling his name, but time is not on your side right now. The last break lights recede, leaving the compartment only lit by dim blue under-seat bulbs. Your movements grow more frenzied; you’re totally disregarding Jack’s lung capacity and not even aiming for his mouth anymore, just using his whole face like it’s all he’s made for. Right as you begin to worry you have nothing left in the tank due to the lunch commute, a muffled, drawn-out “please” from beneath you sends you tumbling right over the edge. Your orgasm hits you more like a tranquilizer than anything else as the last dregs of your energy drench his face.

As soon as he feels your contractions lessen, he’s tossing you off to sit on his thighs and fumbling with his belt buckle. The van makes a hard right turn onto the final road to the airpark, and Jack lets out a frustrated groan knowing the clock is ticking. Still, he knows not to get in your way when you shove his hands away and slide right back on top of his dick, so hard you can feel the heat radiating through the fabric. You know you’re fucking up his dress pants grinding on him like this, but if nothing else, the linen will dry fast.

“I’m sleeping on the plane whether you finish or not, so make it work.” He doesn’t have enough time to be pissed at you, and he knows it. The sight of him so desperately rutting up against you is nearly enough to get you there all over again. All the tendons in his neck stand out as he presses his lips together trying to focus. His legs splay frantically in an attempt to ground himself, one jet black Oxford wedging under the jump seat and the other pressed flat against the far window. Jack’s head tips back and his eyes screw up in concentration, but you can’t have that, no matter how tasty his Adam’s apple looks. You loop his tie around your hand one more time and yank him back to earth,

“Uh-uh. Look at me when I’m making you cum.” That’ll do it. His expression softens then freezes as his eyes unfocus and his mouth falls open. He sounds downright melodic when he cums, just one long note that gets bounced up and down the scale before trailing off to a whine, and you relish every little twitch of him spilling into his pants, so far from you but certainly close enough.

The van rolls to a stop, and suddenly it’s a fumbling nightmare of you both trying to fish your shoes out from under the seats and smooth each others hair. You snatch Jack’s blazer to cover the rip in your dress, shove the iPad and pocket square-thong mess into your work bag, and throw the door open with what you hope is a believable amount of nobody-get-between-me-and-my-lie-flat-seat urgency.

Wobbly legs insist you grab his hand to step out of the van, and, of course, there’s a fucking pap pressed to the tarmac fence. Jack’s reflexes don’t stand a chance at turning him away in time after what you’ve put him through. When the flash catches his face, you can only look horrified as it perfectly captures the shine you’ve left on him.

Gossipy headlines and vague, tasteful PR statement drafts are already zipping through your head. Add it to the agenda: 16.5 hour day incoming.

[iichfilwypj]

little devil | percy jackson

ღ percy jackson x reader: with the special participation of their dog, Zoë! ღ warnings: none? idk i think it's a bit dumb and funny ღ wc: 1.081

She had completely lost track of how many times she had to wipe the sweat off her forehead and lean over the famous ‘blue cookies’ recipe once again. Her arm was aching from the  effort, and she swore she could feel her body burning.

Percy remained asleep in their room, likely covered up to his head and snuggling with Zoë, the little Golden Retriever they had adopted a few weeks back, when they moved together. 

The girl was very excited to be the one cooking breakfast for her boyfriend, even though it wasn’t going great; the color of the batter was green, there was flour everywhere, and the mixture was way too thick. 

“This shit-!” Her hands shot to her face after sending the whisk flying somewhere across the countertop. “What did I do wrong?”

Her elbows slammed hard against the cold marble as she leaned closer to the paper, scanning the lines for her mistake. Her eyes widened as she realized what she had forgotten; the eggs. 

“Are you serious?” 

She didn’t hear her boyfriend’s grumbling about Zoë licking his face, footsteps drawing near the kitchen, or his whistle when he spotted her in the kitchen. Percy did make sure she felt the smack on her butt.

“Hi love,” he said, his tone far too casual as he opened the fridge to grab a bottle of water. “How are you?”

She turned her face toward her boyfriend, scanning him; Percy was barefoot, with his dark hair messy and wearing nothing but pajama pants despite the chill. Contradictory, with how hot he looked.

“Bad.”

“Oh, okay—What is this?,” He approached her side, one hand on his girlfriend’s lower back and the other on the bowl, inspecting its contents. “Is this… edible?”

“Don’t touch that!” she said, slapping her boyfriend's hands away. “Your mom told me you'd do this—and it’s not even done right!”

Percy’s face was picture-worthy at her outburst, all surprised and confused. As she grabbed the bridge of her nose, he glanced at Zoë, who was sitting in a corner, observing everything with her tongue out and tail moving happily.

“What is wrong with it?” He blinked, baffled. “If it’s because it’s not baked, I'll turn on the oven and we can—”

“I forgot the eggs,” she murmured, crossing her arms.

“What’d you say?”

“I forgot the eggs!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “And there are no eggs!”

“Oh—” Percy couldn't help it. A small laugh escaped him before he quickly looked away, clearly trying to hide his laughter.

She saw it. His shoulders shook slightly as he fought to suppress his grin.

“Are you laughing at me? I—” she had to bite her lip to stop herself from joining him. She couldn’t deny it; it was kind of funny.

“No—no, I’m—” Percy couldn’t hold it in anymore. He burst into laughter. “How do you forget the eggs?”

“Don’t laugh at me about eggs!” 

Soon, they were both laughing, tears threatening to spill as Percy leaned against the counter for support; she knew it was probably because he had just woken up, adding to his amusement. 

“Are you done yet?” she huffed, still smiling.

“Oh, God, I adore you,” he said between gasps, pulling her into a tight hug.

“Yeah, yeah, me too.” She rolled her eyes but melted into his embrace, sighing as his hand traced soothing circles on her back.

“We’ll go out for breakfast,” He pulled away just enough to look her in the eyes. “Thanks for trying,”

She stayed quiet for a moment, her hands resting on his chest. Then they moved to his hair, making her stand on her tiptoes to plant a soft kiss on the tip of his nose.

“You’re welcome,” she replied with a smile, before softly adding, “Asshole.”

Before he could reply, a sudden loud clatter from the counter shattered the moment, making them both freeze in place. They glanced at each other, their eyes wide. Without moving, Percy broke the silence.

“Zoë’s eating the batter, isn’t she?”

She didn’t even need to look, already knowing the answer. A resigned look appeared on her face as she sighed.

“Yeah, probably,”

“Your dog is a little devil. This is the third time since she learned to reach the counter.” Percy muttered, stepping away from her and scanning the kitchen for Zoë.

“Sorry, you mean our dog?” she shot back, already grabbing some paper towels to start dealing with the mess. 

But Zoë suddenly appeared from behind the island, her little nose covered in green batter, grabbing their attention. Percy’s eyes widened in disbelief as the puppy bolted toward the living room, a happy glint in her eyes. 

“Absolutely not!” he said, abandoning all pretense of dignity as he took off after her, his voice rising in panic. “Zoë, stop! Get away from the couch!”

And his girlfriend didn’t stay behind. She was quick to run after them, grabbing the digital camera from the nearby table and turning it on to record the scene. She filmed how Percy cornered Zoë, scooping her up in his arms, only for the dog to reward him with a batter-covered lick straight to his face. 

“Gross, Zoë!” he exclaimed, trying to wipe his cheek with the back of his hand as he struggled to hold the squirming dog.

But it didn’t help. The batter was stuck there, and Zoë kept wriggling in his arms, her tongue swiping at his face again.

He sighed deeply as he stretched his arms out, carefully pulling Zoë away from him. 

“Just Gross!”

“You’ve had worse stuff on you!” 

His gaze shifted to his girlfriend standing in the doorway, laughing uncontrollably, her cheeks flushed with tears. Seeing her like that softened his chest, and a grin tugged at his lips.

“Want some?” he asked, not giving her a chance to respond before he moved toward her with Zoë still in his arms.

Her eyes widened in mock horror, and she lifted the camera like it was a weapon. “I’ll kill you!” 

Zoë barked happily, her tail wagging excitedly, and the sound was contagious, making them both burst into laughter.

hii! i just wanted to make something basic, i wasn't finding myself with my writing and this wouldn't fail!! promise i'll be more creative! but how are youuu?

[tawfu]

photograph

cw: dom reader, sub childe, masturbation, face slapping, nipple play, degradation, masochism, dacryphilia, coming in pants, coming untouched, gn reader, childe is a pervert

wc: 1.2k

Summary: Your virgin, touch starved comrade finally gets some action.

The rivalry between you and Childe has somewhat turned into companionship. Everywhere you go, you’ll find him lurking in the shadows, waiting for an opportunity to cause a little trouble.

It’s not like you mind. In fact, it brings a tinge of thrill to your travels. You always end up sparring, pushing each other to the limit as you explore Childe’s tactics and weak spots. Once in a while, you like to explore one another’s weak spots a bit further.

At first, Childe thought you hated him. It didn’t do much to hinder his advances, because your passion for fighting was delightful. Holding back was never an option for you, and he loved it… A lot.

Enough to find himself in front of the mirror after every fight of yours, admiring the cuts and bruises formed by your hands. That was more than enough for him to fall to his knees, pressing on those spots and hissing in pain, thinking about the way you looked when you placed them on him until small beads of precum would make their appearance on his underwear.

He’s lost count of the amount of times he’s found himself in front of his laptop, biting his shirt and drooling on it while fisting his aching cock to whatever porn video he could find where the actor’s looks resembled yours even slightly.

Sometimes, he’d fall into a rabbit hole of S&M videos, unable to stop touching himself until he was hyperventilating from overstimulation, his whole room reeking of his smell, body covered in sticky cum and sweat. He wanted you to use him so badly.

Childe would become increasingly more obvious with his attraction towards you, towards your strength and the pain you inflicted on him. Grunts became louder, his legs would become shaky, and he’d even slip in quiet whimpers when you taunted him. 

His swings would become clumsy for only a moment while his eyes zeroed in on your body, cheeks ruddy as he observed the way your muscles flexed and the teasing look in your eye, so determined to take him down. Fuck, when will you just force him to his knees and have your way with him?!

That instant of gawking was more than enough for you to trip him to the ground, the feeling of your sharp blade pricking the underside of his jaw just enough to draw a drop of blood, snapping him out of his trance.

“You’re pretty sloppy today, Childe. I’m disappointed.”

“You can’t expect me to always be in top condition. I have yet to recover from how rough you went on me last time,” he chuckled, chest heaving as he panted loudly.

“Right. I’ll believe that when you start wearing a pair of pants that’ll actually cover your erection.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, it’s not because of you.”

You inched closer, before stomping on his wrist with your foot, and Childe cried out at the sheer force of it.

“Don’t lie. The last thing a masochistic slut like you should pretend to have is pride,” you scoffed.

Oh, he knows. He just wants to savor the sight of you, looking down at him from above like this and mocking him.

“H-help me then. Hurt me, please–” Childe replied shakily in an attempt to entice you.

You’d be lying if you said that taking the chance to play with your sparring buddy like this was something you hadn’t imagined before.

That sitting on his stomach, ripping his shirt apart and toying with his body wasn’t in your list of fantasies. He was already arching up into you, trying to feel more of your weight on top of him.

Your hands cupped his cheek, almost surprising him with your gentle touch, before it left him abruptly, returning as a harsh smack to his face. A grin formed on your face, and you didn’t stop, alternating between his cheeks until they turned red, marked with your handprints. 

He could probably escape if he tried, but why would he? You were touching him, and after all the nights he spent thinking about you, desperate to feel you in any sort of way, what you do to him doesn’t matter.

The only sounds Childe was able to let out were wails of pleasure, as his body squirmed and arched further into you. He finally spoke after you slowed down, allowing him to catch his breath. His eyes were teary, looking up into your own with nothing but lust.

“S-shit! That’s so good!”

You smiled mischievously, letting your fingertips dance across his neck and grazing it with your nails. That gentle touch of yours, paired with the stinging on his face, was like heaven to Childe. His cock was already throbbing within its confines, just as needy as him… just as pathetic as him.

“I can feel you poking me from behind. I hope you don’t think I’d ever touch that disgusting thing.”

A retort was sitting right at the tip of his tongue, trying so hard to save a fragment of his dignity, but there was no way he could oppose you. Especially not when he felt his tip drool because of those very insults.

Naturally, your next stop would be his chest, cupping and fondling it the way one would a woman. He could’ve sworn that you had at some point even teased him about it, referring to them as tits. Or maybe he had just imagined it when he was–

“Fuck! Why!” he yelped, yet his hips betrayed his words, bucking into thin air at the feeling of your fingers pinching his nipples, before gently circling his areolas.

You ignored him, continuing your attacks on his chest by flicking and pulling on each nipple while your other hand moved to his neck, ripping a shaky sigh out of Childe as you squeezed it.

“What’s the point of all our training, if you’re gonna turn into a drooling, good for nothing mess the moment someone touches you like this? What if a group of samurai attacked you? Would you squirm like a little girl and let them use you too?”

Your ridiculing wouldn’t cease, but Childe could only moan in bliss, the image you inserted into his head making his eyes roll back. The grip around his neck was tight enough to leave bruises, and he was sweating profusely, hands trying, albeit in vain, to claw themselves into the floor for any sort of support.

“M-more! Please, it’s too much!”

He couldn’t think anymore. There was no point. His cheeks were already stained with tears, his hips jumping uncontrollably as he cried out in pleasure, ropey streaks of cum spilling into his pants.

Even after you let go of him, his body wouldn’t stop twitching. He was in a haze, only snapping out of it when he felt your nails digging into his cheeks as you grabbed his jaw forcefully.

“We didn’t agree on letting you cum, did we? Yet you came in your pants like a teenage boy,” you spat.

“It wasn’t on purpose, I swear!”

“Looks like you’ll have to make it up to me, then.”

…

Why was this motherfucker grinning?!

[diejager]

Kinktober day 7: Knife play + gags w/ Ghostface

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, knife play, gag, tell me if I missed any.

-> kinktober masterlist -> navigation

Waking up tied and gagged on your bed, the last thing you’d expect was to be fucked to oblivion. Like any normal person in this situation, you panicked and assumed you’d be gutted and left to bleed out on your bed. The same way any of The Ghostface’s victims were left: a scene of struggle, dried blood, moved furniture, and a cold, dead body in the middle of it all.

You were sure you’d become his next victim after many nights of paranoia following you everywhere and feeling unsafe in your own home. Windows left open, object disappearing and little pictures and notes purposely left behind for you to find out. It was as if Ghostface was taunting you, terrorising his prey before he ate it the same way you marinated meat before cooking it.

And yet, here you are, drooling around the red, ball gag he brought with him, wrists tied behind your back in an uncomfortable position, forcing you to slump over his seated figure. Despite the cool air rushing in through the open window, your body alight, coated in a heavy sheen of sweat, and thighs burning from lifting your prone body up and down his cock.

Ghostface made you ride him, gasping and panting over him, head hanging on his spit-covered shoulder as he trailed his knife down your side. You could feel every ridge of his girth, the veins that ran up to the tip and the mushroom head of his cut head. Shame ate at you, cunt leaking down his balls, walls clenching around him and clit twitching from the cold fabric of his leather. The utter betrayal of your body for finding pleasure in this.

He didn’t even bother wearing a condom, leaving you worried, but that was the least of your issues. The biggest being the big and dangerous weapon he held to your skin, cutting a thin line of blood without hitting too deep. You were in a delicate situation, torn between having to fuck yourself on his cock and live, or refuse and die a painful death: gutted and tortured, displayed like a work of vulgar piece of art.

“C’mon doll, move those hips faster,” his seductive drawl came through the staticky voice changer, it was deep and low, seductively deceiving with every pet name he spoke, “The faster I cum, the faster we’re be done.”

You bit down a scoff between gritted teeth, only huffing and groaning when the head of his cock bulldozed its way into you, hit your cervix with a hard thrust. He was lean and veiny, and shaved neatly, but long. What he lacked in girth, he made up with the length of it. He felt too long to be normal, bullying into you with little effort despite your initial struggle, but he slid in like a hot knife to butter.

Your hips stuttered when the sharp edge of his knife dug deeper, his wrist curling and twisting to draw precise lines on your skin. Every letter made him throb, the head twitching as you hissed and sobbed, teeth sinking into your lower lip. It started with “GH“, then his hips started thrusting up at “OST”, and his hand found itself on your thigh with a painful grip at “FACE”.

You shuddered, legs growing weaker and weaker, the adrenaline that had mercifully numbed your pain was slowly coming to an end just as you felt the agonising coil of pleasure tighten. You could hear him huff and pant through the plastic mask, nearly undetectable by the mic of his voice changer.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he groaned, head thrown back, driving his hips up, “Fuck.”

He painted your walls white, the heavy feel of him inside made you nauseous, and it only worsened at the sight of his finished work —”GHOSTFACE” was cleanly written on the side of your waist, simulating a branding —the signature on a finished piece.

“I’ll see you next week, doll,” he patted your thigh, knife cutting through your binds and took the gag off before he slipped out the window.

And just before he left, he turned around and curled his fingers at you:

“Tell anyone and I’ll know. Bye bye now. ”

[ccraccz]

Hi! May i request for a heartsteel! (All of em) x artist! Reader, reader has a sketch book of them and they saw it when they were roaming around the reader's room. How would they react? Tysm!

Heartsteel x Artist!Reader

Context: You're staying/moving to their place

Aphelios

APHELIOS OML 🧚‍♀️

Anyways, you're staying at his place for a while due to an argument with your roommate.

Aphelios was laying on his bed as you shower, on his phone ordering some fast food for all three of you (alune, you and himself)

He turns around, laying on his belly when he notices that he's laying on something.

He pouts before sitting up on his knees s and taking the book that was under him in his hand.

His phone lays on his pillow as he silently, but curiously, skims through the pages

He stops at a page where he notices a familiar face.

It's him

With out a mask

He turns to the next page.

And his sister is on it, then him, then hom again, sett, ezreal, him again, yone, and more.

His eyes sparkle as his face, under the mask he wears everywhere everyday, slowly becomes pink.

All the comments beside the drawings of him, the stars and hearts around it, the small characters commenting on it.

He's so entranced that he doesn't notice that the water stopped running.

It is only when he hears you call out to him for a towel that he stops staring at the masterpieces you made.

He's so great full and happy and glad and AAAA

His brain is going overdrive with thoughts as he grabs a clean, fluffy towel and crack open the door to the bathroom.

Shoving his hand inside, he feels you grab the towel before he comically rushes to close the sketchbook and put it where he found it.

He orders the food and just smiles and kicks his legs in the air in happiness.

When you exit the bathroom, you just see him silently giggling and kicking his legs.

He's so cute hhh

Ezreal

You're moving to his place

Señor bunny teeth decides to help out with the boxes of clothes and things

He's just

So so so excited to add more personality to his place!

He's so excited to see you everyday in the morning, after work, before sleeping, seeing you naked, seeing you waking up, having sex with out interruptions.

What a dream come true!

While he's thinking of such, the last box in his hands, with a mark saying that it goes in the bedroom.

When he opens the door, after passing by you and getting a good ol kiss on the cheek, a large smile on his face, he squats down to place the box down when,

It pops open

All the books come tumbling out of the box before he can react.

Sweat dropping, he pales as he folds the box and started to freak out.

One of the books that fell opened to a page with a drawing of himself

He felt as if time stopped as he stared at the drawing

His cheeks turned pink as a cheeky smile stretched out on his face.

He grabs that sketchbook and sits down like a child playing with blocks.

He scans through the rest of the book, most of the drawings being of himself in different clothing and positions ( 😏)

He giggles and kicks his feet, tossing and turning on the floor before clipping through and teleporting towards the couch where you're laying.

He smiles, and shoves his faces into your tummy, your sketchbook in his arms as he giggles.

"I love you so muccchhh!!! Augh your art is so good!" He lifts his head off of you, chin digging into your tummy.

He continues to ramble on, saying that he'll show K'sante and Sett these for their next hit! And more

You cover your face, knowing that he will not stop talking about this.

Yone

You're staying at his place, summer vacation has arrived for you and you wanted nothing but to see the man of your dreams.

I love him sm

Yone, as the gentleman he is, accepted you with open arms and tons of kisses before accommodating to your needs.

He was really planning in sleeping on the floor, nuh uh he's not tho.

While you're sitting on the dining table for two, a pencil in hand and your trusty sketchbook in front of you

He came behind you, two plates of food that he had just finished making.

He was taken of guard before a slight smile takes over his fine face.

The drawing was of him cooking

He leans down and blows on your ear, making you jump back.

He chuckles before placing the food down near you, perfectly plated for a celebrity.

He walks back to his seat as you place your sketchbook away and wait for him to sit down before eating

He makes a mental note to ask for you to show him your sketchbook.

Sett

He's so cute!

You're staying with him for a while due to your parents kicking you out for a while.

Your boyfriend never liked your parents, they were quite mean to you.

It reminded him of his father.

He knew how to comfort you, and his mom totally loved you, probably even more than him!

So when you suddenly appear at his moms place with a grim look on your face, wet from the rainstorm.

He, of course, let you in and took your bag off of you so you could go wash up.

Sett goes to tell his mom about you being there before going to his room and placing your bag in his room and getting one of his hoodies for you to put on and a towel.

By then, you've taken off your clothes and entered the warm shower

Sett gives his hoodie and the clean towel to his mom to place in the bathroom as he starts getting his bedroom situated

He scavenges through his plush collection for your favorite plush, cleaned up the slight mess he had in the corners of his room

But when he picked up your wet bag to place it in a more convenient place did it get messy.

The bottom of your bag, such a worn out bag, broke and all the things you had in there, fell out onto his floor.

But the main thing he took notice off is a book that fell and opened.

The page had his face on it

The face he made in the MV of their song.

He froze for a second before continuing to collect the things on the floor and placing them somewhere more clean.

But he couldn't stop the soft smile that he sported on his face.

Kayn

SIR

Augh he's so hot its unbearable

He's coming over to your place.

He just can't be away from you for so long, a week, without complaining.

So when he comes back home to an empty living room, the shower not running, and he's now noticing that your car isn't in the garage?

He's sitting down on the couch and pouting like a little baby

Rhaast the decides to complain because you're not here, and that his shirt is suffocating him.

But kayn is sad, sob

He does the off his shirt though

and rummages through your fridge

And goes to your room and just takes in your smell.

The main thing about you he really loves, other than how you tolerate him and other people around you, is how you smell and dress

He jumps onto your bed and lays down before noticing a shiny little thing on your desk

Kayn, sadly, gets up from your bed and walks towards your desk, sitting down on your chair

He notices that it's unlocked, a key beside it.

He smirks, you have a diary???

He turns to a page and

It's not a "dear diary.." started but his face

It looks like a character sheet of himself.

Kayn has never looked so fine in his eyes oml

His brain basically said "AWOOGA"

He basically fell in love with you all over again no joke.

Kayn takes out his phone and starts taking pictures, he's for sure going to look at these and take every piece of detail he can.

K'sante

This goofy goober

He's so kewl

You had moved from your place to his recently

And he noticed that your side of the office has become quite messy while you were out getting some groceries.

And he decides to take initiative and organize your part of the office to a comfortable liking

Putting papers on one side, pencils where they're supposed to be, sketchbook beside the keybo-

The damn sketchbook fell and the pencil inside of it rolled away.

Great

He stares at the sketchbook in disspointment only for his expression to change as he pics up the much smaller book

It's him! Awe he looks so nice in your style!!

He skims through the rest of the sketchbook book, keeping a finger in the page that it opened on.

'You're so cute,' he thinks, placing down the sketchbook to were he was going to before it fell.

You bet he's gonna draw you and tape it on your monitor for you to see.

Alune

(There's literally no gifs of her, and that makes me sad)

ALUNE

Ms pretty lady

she found that you left your sketchbook at her place.

She, of course, found it because you left it on her bed and curiosity picked at her and wanted to know what was inside!

So she took a peek

And was very pleased at what she found.

So, unannounced, she appeared at your front door with a large smile on her face, telling you she's gonna sleep over for today while handing you your sketchbook.

You both sat around on the couch as she told you that she took a peek in it and saw your talent

And then she just rambled on and on about the future, animals, and the band!

She's so sweet and cute

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

Note!

Uhhh so, you didn't specify if you wanted female or male so I did gender neutral 🧚‍♀️ I also wanted to do alune (even though I don't know ow much about her woops) because I wanna show appreciation for her!! Other than that, I also changed the request a bit, and I wanted to keep it a bit interesting so most of them didn't look around your room woops sorry.

Either way! I hope you enjoy it! 💙💙 thank you so much for being my first request!! 💙💙💙🧚‍♀️

[ediewentmissing]

some of my eddie munson headcanons

1. loves liquorice.

i know a lot of you guys probably HATE liquorice, but something about him screams ‘i am a liquorice lover and proud of it!!’. and he doesn’t like the strawberry kind.

2. races to press the button in the elevator

“MOVE OUT OF THE WAY, YOU LITTLE SHIT!” “EDDIE, IT’S MY TURN!”

3. was rlly short before he hit puberty

eddie has obviously been subjected to a hell of a lot of bullying over the years, and just to add to that pile of angst, we have the idea of short eddie. gareth went through the same thing, except he didn’t grow as much. “how’s the weather down there, munson?” “fuck off, tommy.”

4. he’s either really hot or really cold

he’s wearing 3 layers half the time, and as little clothing as he can the other half. freezes during winter and sweats his ass off during the summer.

5. gets sensitive teeth

this is because he’s made himself eat a basket worth of lemons just to brag about it later on multiple occasions

6. enjoys watching b movies

those shitty low budget films? oh, yeah. eddie loves them. for one reason; he cackles the whole time over how crap they are. a great pick-me-up.

7. chews on things when he spaces out

the inside of his cheek, his lip, a pencil, and you can’t forget that one time he chewed on a pen for so long that all the ink spilled into his mouth and he was gagging in the middle of class

8. had a major crush on princess daphne from dragon’s lair

definitely fought over her with his friends. he was incredibly jealous of dirk the daring.

9. doesn’t like trying new foods

he’s attached to foods from when he was a kid (macaroni and cheese, cereal, mini pizzas, grilled cheese, and dishes from his mum) and refuses to branch out - unless you ask him to

10. swears he only listens to metal, but doesn’t

he wants to keep his ‘scary ‘music’ reputation, but it’s hard to do that when robin finds eddie’s abba and wham! tapes tucked away in his room

“i thought you were a, and i quote, ‘strictly metal-only’ guy, but i guess you were just a big pop fan this whole time” “quit it, robin”

he also doesn’t mind the country music wayne forced onto him when he was younger

11. twirls the phone cord around his finger

when he’s talking to you over the phone, you swear you can picture him clear as day; big sly grin plastered on his face, and his ringed finger wiring around the phone cord connected to the wall

12. graffitis

but only in the school bathroom cubicles and the hideout bathroom cubicles. occasionally you’ll go to one of his gigs, and then you’ll go to the toilet and there’ll be little drawings on the wall. a guitar, eddie the head, and the occasional shameless penis

13. used to ride bikes everywhere

USED to because he fell over while riding it when he was 9 and scraped his knee and declared he would never ride a bicycle again (thought that declaration broke in 1986)

14. loves roller coasters

specifically ones that take pictures of you - he loves to act all calm and collected while everyone else is screaming their heads off

“eddie, this is a terrible photo” “no, it’s a terrible photo of YOU. you look like you’ve shit yourself, and i look cool as ice”

15. thought babies hatched out of eggs

safe to say that when he learnt how babies are REALLY made, he was flabbergasted and very, very grossed out

[honey-on-your-tongue]

All That Could Be

Series masterlist

Part four

Word count: 1.8k

A/N: OMG I'm so sorry it's taken me over a year?!?!?!? What the fuck, that's crazy. I'm so fucking sorry that it's been so fucking long. Buuuuuut, as you all can see, I'm reviving this story and I have every intention of finishing it, babes. I LOVE YOU!!!

You find yourself staring at your reflection in a full-body mirror. You're wearing irrationally...pretty clothes.

A pair of black nylon tights, black combat boots, and a tight, short, red dress. The hem reaches your mid-thigh, the deep v-neck exposing the top of your breasts.

You glance up to meet your own gaze. You're wearing a thick layer of mascara, shiny lip gloss, smoky eyeshadow that makes your eyes look like feline and dangerous, almost like a lynx.

Elegant and deadly.

The doorbell rings, your heart leaps, and suddenly you're full of butterflies.

You spray yourself with your favorite perfume and take a deep breath before walking to the front door. You open it before you regret the whole idea, and you find Wilson there.

He's wearing a white button-up, no tie, casual khakis. He eyes you and you can see the blush that spreads on his cheeks.

“Wow,” he says, his eyes taking one last look from your head to your toes, and then he meets your gaze. “You look...wow.”

You smile almost shyly. “Thank you. You look very handsome yourself,” you reply, and he chuckles softly.

“You ready to go?” he asks, nodding at the stairs.

“Yeah,” you reply, walking out of your apartment. You lock the door after yourself and follow him.

You two walk to his car and he opens the door for you. You thank him and sit in the passenger side, buckling your seat belt as he gets in the driver's seat.

You get to the bar eventually. But the whole ride, you keep debating this. It's wrong, but the general intention is good.

The means justify the end, you decide. You're doing it all for Wilson, to help him. He's your friend, and you care about him. Deeply.

As you two walk into the bar, the smell of cigarettes, alcohol, and sweat fills your nose. The music is loud, booming, shaking your entire body. You lead Wilson to a booth at the far end, crammed and dim, the strobe lights flashing everywhere.

You sit down and he sits down across from you. A waiter comes by and you each order your preferred drinks.

You don't know if it's the lights, the smoke, the fact that you said you'd be someone else tonight or if it's you trying to stick to the plan, but an idea comes to mind. A stupid, stupid idea that you know you shouldn't go through with. And you still do.

“So,” you tell Wilson, taking a sip from your drink before placing it on the table. “I propose we set down a goal for tonight.”

“A goal? Like what?”

You bite your lower lip before saying, “My goal is to do something I'd probably never do, and not regret it tomorrow.”

Wilson raises his eyebrows. “Alright. Uh. My goal is to...forget about my divorce for tonight and just pretend it's not happening.”

You nod. “See? Perfect. Now, we set the rules.” You take a long sip from your drink and add, “Rule number one, there are no rules.” You smile. “You okay with that?”

Wilson nods. “Yeah, I am.” He drinks from his glass of bourbon, neat. “So, when you say you want to do something you normally wouldn't, what do you mean?”

You take a soft breath before smiling. “I don't know,” you admit, smiling playfully. “Probably some spur-of-the-moment sort of thing. Something stupid. Really fucking dumb.” You shrug. “Dumb sort of shit.”

“Ah,” he says. “How come?”

You shrug again. “What's wrong with a little distraction?”

The night draws on. You keep feeling guilty about this whole thing, about tricking him, about how you'll eventually have to break his heart.

So you drink it away. You try to forget it. Try to numb the feeling.

And Wilson keeps up with you.

Soon, you're both on the dance floor sticky from spilled drinks. You're jumping around and laughing, dancing from side to side. It's more of an ecstatic, too-much-pent-up-energy sort of dance in the beginning.

You don't know how or when or why, but from one moment to the next, you find yourself dancing with Wilson.

His hands are on your hips, your arms around his neck. Your eyes are locked on his, the flashing lights making your heart race. Or is it the booming music? Or the way he slowly walks you back until you're pressed up against the wall?

His brown eyes are blown wide with lust. They move to your lips and hold your gaze, his intentions very, very clear.

Do something I'd probably never do...

You let him kiss you. In fact, you meet him halfway. Your lips crash together, hungry and rough. His hands pin your hips to the wall and he presses his body to yours.

The atmosphere is hot, humid with the warmth of so many bodies pressed and moving together. You feel a sheen layer of sweat coating your skin.

It's so hot. So warm. You can't think straight and the music is loud. So much that you can't even hear that little voice in the back of your head yelling, don't! Don't! Don't!

You pull him closer, your breathing heavy as he slides his tongue into your mouth. You can taste the bourbon on his lips, can smell his cologne.

One of his hands moves lower, gliding down the side of your thigh. His fingers tease the hem of your dress before sliding under it, moving slowly to your inner thigh.

You keep kissing him, allowing him to touch you. Somewhere in the back of your head, you know this is a horrendous thing to do. A terrible, terrible idea.

And you still go through with it.

His hand reaches between your thighs, his fingers teasing your clit softly through your tights.

You gasp and moan into the kiss, spreading your legs slightly for him. He keeps touching you, his fingers precise as he plays with your clit.

You're soaked, your slick dripping past your panties and past your tights to wet his fingers. You whine against his mouth, slightly bitting his lower lip.

You feel him smile, his hand pulling your tights down enough for him to push your panties to the side and run his finger up your slit.

You moan softly, arching your back slightly.

“Fuck,” he sighs, kissing your neck. “You're so fucking wet.”

You blush a little but don't say anything. You throw your head back, letting him kiss and bite your neck, his fingers teasing your clit.

You can feel his cock, so hard, poking your lower stomach. You have the sudden urge to take him somewhere and have him fuck you, but you're not stupid enough to do that.

He traces your entrance with one of his rough fingers before sliding it into you. You release a shaky breath as a shot of pleasure runs through your body.

Carefully, he slides a second finger inside of you, curling them up, touching that spongy spot that makes your legs jerk. He presses his thumb to your clit, and when you bite your lip to keep quiet, he laughs, his voice thick and low.

“This will be the dumb fucking shit you do tonight. And you won't regret this tomorrow, right?” he asks, licking under your jaw.

You moan softly and shake your head. “No. Absolutely not.”

He kisses your jaw, his fingers touching all the right spots. Everything around you has become hazy, a dizzying array of lights and drinks and smoke. But all you can focus on is Wilson.

He grabs one of your thighs in his other hand, pulling your leg around his waist so that his fingers can go deeper into you.

You moan against his lips, nails digging into his back. “Oh, God,” you gasp, beginning to grind your hips against his hand. “Oh, God.”

Wilson chuckles, biting your neck, his tongue sliding over the mark he's surely left. “It's okay, it's okay. Relax,” he says gently. “Let me do what I wanna do.”

You mewl, back arching. “What-what do you wanna do?” you ask between moans and heavy breaths.

“I wanna make you come on my fingers, and then on my cock,” he says against your ear, the words rolling ring onto your skin. You can taste the liquor on his tongue, can smell his cologne and the sweet scent of his shampoo.

“Fuck,” you whine. “Fuck.”

“God, you're so wet,” he grunts. “So warm. I just need to be inside of you. Goddamn.”

His fingers move with precision, with a purpose. He's not rushing anything, not doing the typical guy thing of only getting you wet enough to stick it in you. He cares about your pleasure. He wants you to come, to enjoy yourself. And that makes something warm spread through you.

You can feel the ecstasy within you spread, like white-hot coils twisting around your womb, leaving you almost dumb from pleasure.

Just as you’re getting closer and closer, Wilson’s phone rings. He groans, kissing at your neck, and ignores the call. But the phone keeps ringing and ringing, and it’s really ruining the mood.

He pulls his fingers out of you, groaning at the loss of your cunt around his digits. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he says, releasing your thigh from around his waist and pulling his phone out of his pocket. He flips it open and exhales sharply. “House,” he groans into the phone.

You can’t hear what House says on the phone, but you see James’ eye-roll. “No, I’m busy.” A pause. “I’m…at a rave surrounded by sorority girls,” he says sarcastically, winking playfully at you.

You smile softly and laugh.

James grins and quickly says, “House, I’m busy. Goodbye.” He hangs up, putting the phone back in his pocket.

You two stare at each other for a moment and Wilson smiles sheepishly.

“We’ve had too much to drink, huh?” you say quietly, glancing down at the floor.

He nods, agreeing. “Probably. I think maybe it’s best if we…take a cab home.”

“Yeah, okay,” you reply, a little embarrassed, and awkwardly pull your tights back up your thighs.

Wilson grabs your hand with his clean one, licking your slick off his other fingers. “Shame,” he says quietly. “If House hadn’t called…”

You know what he meant. But your guilt is eating at you. Still, you manage a little smile at him. “Raincheck?”

He grins. “Raincheck.”

---

Taglist

@pigeonmama @thefemininemystiquee @acdassenza

---

Blog masterlist

[keysorsomething]

Into the Hyena's Den

Part three !! I hope you enjoy it :) 1 | 2 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 Cross-posted on ao3

You knock softly on Nikto’s door, checking the halls like you check the roads before crossing them. You're sure someone is hiding in some dark corner of the hall. Damn, you're really going to get in trouble for this, aren't you? You already had three of the snoopiest bitches on your tail. This visit was going to be the hot gossip for the next few weeks. And that was not going to go well for you in the slightest.

You can already imagine it, being called into König’s office and being scolded about fraternizing. Like he isn't guilty of that.

There's a thought that flickers in your mind for a moment, that you two will be the talk of the site and then Nikto will get distant one more. Something in you does not want that to happen. Perhaps you'll have to bribe Horangi. And Roze, but most importantly Klaus. Or blackmail. What are they gonna do? You work in a PMC, are they really going to go after you for blackmail and not any of your war crimes?

You think not.

The door creeks open, cautiously. He's worried about this too, you think, but the thought process is quickly shut down by his hand on the back of your head pulling you into the room. You make no noise of complaint. Partly because who would complain, and also because you don't want to draw any attention to the situation.

The door slammed once you were inside the dim room. You look around. The room is dark, there's a faint light from somewhere but you can't locate it. And it's not messy—there aren't any clothes or dirty dishes or anything out of place and the bed is made—but it's not clean either. It's crowded, piles of stuff neatly sorted all over everywhere.

His guns are neatly lined up against the wall, biggest to smallest. With the exclusion of his handguns and side arms, which are in boxes stacked in the opposite corner. At least that's what you're guessing is in them.

His arm extends, guiding you to sit on the bed. An instruction you follow.

“Sooo..” You're incredibly nervous, and he doesn't like small talk, but you're trying to small talk him. You just need to figure out what to small-talk about. God damn small talk standards and social norms. You're not good at it when you're hands aren't shaking and you're not sitting on the bed of a man that is very physically capable of snapping your neck all the way around like it's the fucking Exorcist. 

“Нет,” He replies firmly. He’s in more comfortable clothes, something you’ve never seen before. He’s wearing a tight-fitting black t-shirt, short-sleeved. His pants don’t match it at all, being loose-fitting sweats. His mask is still on, though. Honestly, you’d bet his mask is always on. Even in the shower.

“N-nyet?” You reply, confused. 

“Shush. You are not with us to talk,” He instructs, coming to the side of the bed. He moves his hand to instruct you to scoot over, which you do. Your eyes stay on him intensely as he lays down in the bed, sliding under the covers. “You are here to help us sleep,” Part of you is sad that he boils it down to that. You can never be sure if that is what Nikto means, this is just because you make him sleep better, or if this means more to him and he just can’t put it into words. You imagine it’s hard for him sometimes, to admit weakness like that. To admit he has a soft spot, a hole in the impenetrable fortress that is his off-putting demeanor and aggressive disposition. Or maybe you’re just assigning him that, like when you feel guilty for having to choose between two inanimate objects, even though you can’t actually make one of them feel bad for not being chosen.  

So you let out a soft sound of agreement and nod, instead of trying to talk anymore. He stares at you expectantly for a moment longer, so you clamber under the sheets and let him wrap his arms around you, laying his head on your chest. It’s a firm grip around your waist, like he’s never held another person like this before, or the iron-clad grip of a child holding their favorite plushie. Your hands very gently meet his back and the top of his head. You’re trying to get comfortable like this, the way that the hard metal of the blast plate pushes into your skin from through your shirt, the way your chest can’t fully rise due to the pressure of holding him, the miserable heat of being in an already warmer than you expected room with another being on top of you, and his death grip keeping you from adjusting your position even an inch. It’s not the worst thing to happen to you since you’ve come to KorTac, but that doesn’t make it any more comfortable.

Your hand on his back starts that slow stroking motion that you always had with him. You close your eyes, trying to get comfortable with the weight of a fully grown man on your ribcage. He rolls his head into your chest, and you fight the urge to wheeze or let out any sounds of discomfort. It wasn’t that you weren’t enjoying the moment, it was just the metal being pressed into the skin hurt. More than just a little bit. He stops moving his head after a moment, letting out a breath he must have been holding. His whole form melts into you. The lack of tenseness, of distrust, it was out of character for him. But it was wholesome. A moment of surrender, of peace, in a life that was doomed to be full of fighting. And the fact that you were giving it almost made up for the metal digging into you.

You let out a soft, reassuring sound, telling him you’re still there. And there’s no way you’re leaving. Not anyway at all. The downward strokes turn to gentle circles into the back of his shoulders as you whisper nonsense to him. A mix of his name, shushing, “I’m here”s and “you’re okay”s leave your lips as you mumble. It makes him relax even further if that is possible. You’re not even sure if that is possible.

You look down at him, and he seems at peace. You’d like to imagine that he was smiling under all that fabric, so you will. You aren’t sure how comfortable it is to sleep with that on your face, or if he could even breathe right like that, but you don’t question him. There’s no reason to poke the bear lying on your chest. Especially since you’re trying to tame it. 

But, as you study his face, you notice something new. Normally, when he closes his eyes, his face is a flat void. You can’t even tell he’s human, or he’s wearing a mask. It’s all a single, 2-D shape that he calls a body. And when his eyes are open, the blue pierces through a still darkness, one that melts into the rest. He looks more like a living shadow, in all dark and clinging to the walls. His face always seemed to be a flat, pitch-black surface when he closed his eyes because he was always wearing eyeblack. He had neatly painted on every surface of skin that was exposed by the eye holes of his mask, with no streaks, marks, splotches, or fingerprints. Though it would fade over time, you often noted. Over the weeks he would leave it until he had to repaint it. But now, as you look down at him on your chest, you notice another thing you had never seen before. There is no void. He’s not some faceless being in your arms. You see the faint, deep-brown shaping of his brows, his long eyelashes, the scar that covers the right side, but most importantly, the pale gleam of his skin in the little light.

He had washed the eyeblack off. And he had done it just for you.

[thebrandywine]

hiii. the "you look really pretty right now" prompt is feeling really piers to me.

nini i'm sorry i couldn't just decide on ONE--

"You look really pretty right now."

Piers shivers out a laugh, his heavy eyelids raising as he stares. The man's biceps are tight to either side of his head, his wrists knotted securely to the headboard with a new rope in an obnoxious orange that Leon bought just for him-- his favorite color.

"Do I?" he asks breathlessly. His stomach twitches when Leon sinks his teeth into it, sucking lightly to pull up a mark. "F-fuck."

Leon hums, amused, and smooths his hands up and down Piers' thighs. Those are working to move, too, but his ankles are bound in much the same way as his hands, leaving him wholly immobile and completely at Leon's mercy.

There's something about Piers when he blushes that Leon can just never get enough of, that pink on tan and those hazel eyes blown wide in want. The millions of freckles scattered everywhere, faint as they might be, and how Leon can never keep himself from counting them with his lips until he loses track and has to start again. Piers doesn't have a lot of body hair but the thatch on his chest is nice for Leon to comb his fingers through, to follow as it vanishes on the upper part of his stomach just to reappear below his navel. Then, of course, the happy trail that goes down to Leon's favorite sight on earth.

"Stop teasing me," Piers says. He's still trying to be cute about it, trying to draw Leon in and using every trick he has to get things going, but--

"Thought you said you could take it," he murmurs, tonguing over the mark he's made, exhaling heavily across Piers' skin. "Taste of your own medicine?"

"I can, I just--"

"If you actually want me to stop, I will," Leon says, "but if not…"

He fists Piers loosely, the man having been hard for a while now. Piers' back arches, a relieved moan shuddering out of him. "Fuck, please, please," he mutters, but Leon doesn't move. He twitches his hips up and whines, "Lee."

"We've got all night, pretty boy," Leon teases, giving Piers a single stroke before pulling away. "Think you can last that long?"

--

"You look really pretty right now," Piers grins.

Leon throws him a tired look over his shoulder, half a glare and half exasperation. He's down on his hands and knees scrubbing at the carpet where Lucky barfed while they were out, a bottle of cleaner beside him and the air sharp with the scent of it. They'd changed before Leon had started dealing with it, meaning that he's in a pair of mismatched socks, threadbare sweats, and a stained shirt that's two sizes too big (Chris's, maybe). The sweats cling, and the position he's in gives Piers an excellent view of his ass as it works back and forth with each vigorous scrub.

"Do you want dog barf in our carpet or not?" Leon asks.

"Not," Piers says, laid out in bed on his stomach with his chin propped on his forearms. "I'm just saying."

"Uh huh," Leon mutters, and Piers barely stifles a laugh as the man gets back to work. His ass shakes back and forth, back and forth, back and-- "Quit staring at me."

Piers says, "You're my husband. I'm allowed to stare as much as I want."

"Since when?"

"Since you said 'I do.'"

"You're supposed to save that for the good shit, you know." Leon sits back on his haunches and folds the hand towel in on itself before spraying more cleaner, glancing at Piers again with a raised brow. "Like when we're in bed?"

Piers, more seriously than he means to, says, "Lee, you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. It doesn't matter what you're wearing or where we are."

The truth of it is that he's spent every moment he's known Leon admiring him and staring at him, watching how the light falls across his face and makes his hair glow, how his smile is only crooked when it's a real one, the way that the years have pressed lines into the corners of his eyes, how he looks back at Piers like he's… worth something.

Leon is pink in the face as he looks away and hunches over the stain again. After a beat, he says, "Shut up."

Piers grins. "Never."

[atinycafe]

[warning: suggestive]

you turn to vampire!yeosang as he enters your shared room after an intense workout session, silently making his way to the walk-in closet. swiftly removing his shorts, he tears off his black tank top, leaving him in just his boxers.

curiously, you inquire, "i don't understand why you change your clothes, you don't even sweat," you shamelessly observe him while lying in bed, a rainbow candy in your mouth.

"don't eat in bed. there'll be sugar everywhere," yeosang dismisses your question, sensing your intense gaze upon his back.

"but you eat in bed," you pout. he raises an eyebrow, perplexed because he doesn't eat food at all, actually. you grin as your eyes meet his in the mirror in front of him, pointing to the two holes on your neck. he rolls his eyes and reaches for a pair of gray tech fleece, putting the pants on.

"don't ignore me," you insist.

he continues to ignore you, changing in front of your eyes. the sight of his pale back captures your attention. you stand up and approach him, wrapping your arms around his waist, feeling the coldness of his skin beneath your fingertips. you bring your mouth to his neck and softly kiss the skin before biting down hard, enough to draw blood. it doesn't taste as good as the candy left on the bed, your mind reminds you.

he doesn't even flinch.

"why?" he simply asks, while you lick the blood from the fresh wound.

"i can't be the only one covered in bite marks while you have flawless baby-smooth skin," you comment, attempting to break the skin once again as you bite his shoulder. "it's unfair."

hearing the pout in your voice, he turns around, abandoning the vest he was about to wear, which now lies forgotten on the floor. he slips his hands under your thighs and effortlessly lifts you, causing you to wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist.

pressing his face against your neck, he takes a deep inhale. letting out a soft sigh, he carries you towards the bed, still holding you in his arms. he gazes at you from under his bangs, his eyes so dark that you blush and break the eye contact first.

"look at me, baby," his voice deepens, making your face grow even hotter. slowly, you turn to face him, feeling his big hands gently caressing your sides.

"did you notice your biceps got bigger?" you remark aloud, attempting to shift the focus. your manicured nails lightly trace over the muscles of his arms, leaving red trails in their wake. he hums in response, still gazing at your face, wearing that familiar expression he always has when he's deep in thought, contemplating his next words.

"do you not like it when i leave marks on you?" he asks uncertainly, he genuinely thought you enjoyed them. you never bothered concealing the hickeys he'd give you, regardless of the type of shirt you wore, simply applying a bandaid to any biting marks. he would catch you admiring them in the mirror, but perhaps he mistook your insecurity for fascination? you interrupt his thoughts with a quick shake of your head, your hands instinctively reaching for his face, cupping his cheeks.

"no, yeo, i love them, i promise," you blush, stumbling over your words. "it's just…" you trail off, biting your lip, struggling to find the right way to express what you desire. you look at yeosang who's staring at you with wide eyes, silently urging you to continue, and finally, you gather the courage to speak. "i just want to leave marks on you too?" the statement comes out as a hesitant question, your embarrassment causing you to be unclear.

he remains silent, and you bury your face in your hands, feeling the weight of second-hand embarrassment. attempting to pull away from him, his grip tightens around your waist. "look at me, baby," he insists once again, and when you mumble a muffled refusal through your palms, he firmly grasps your wrists with his own hand, his grip large enough to enclose both of your wrists.

you meet his gaze, and he smirks softly.

"well, go ahead, pretty girl. what are you waiting for?" he tilts his head sideways, exposing the curve of his neck to you. you can't help but wonder if he experiences the same arousal you do when you entice him with your neck, anticipating his feeding time.

feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness, your fingertips brush against his skin, tracing the contour of his neck. you lean in, hesitating for a brief moment before pressing your lips against his pale flesh, leaving a gentle kiss. you suck softly at the skin, before darting out your tongue to lick it softly. as your teeth graze his skin, you feel a surge of desire, knowing that you have the power to mark him just as he marked you.

he watches you intently, his eyes filled with a combination of anticipation and trust. the connection between you intensifies as you sink your teeth into his neck, carefully drawing blood.

time seems to pause as you savor the moment, sharing this intimate act that deepens your bond. when you finally withdraw, licking the wound to soothe it, you meet his gaze, your eyes reflecting the raw passion that now binds you together.

"you're mine," yeosang whispers, his voice laced with possessiveness and affection. "and i'm yours."

he bends down to your neck, wanting to leave his own mark. as his lips graze your neck, a trail of gentle kisses accompanies his nibbles, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. he explores the delicate skin beneath your pulse, mapping the territory with his mouth as he seeks the perfect spot to mark as his own. each nibble is followed by a soft release, his cool breath mingling with the warmth of your skin, intensifying the electrifying pleasure that courses through you.

his touch ignites a symphony of sensations, from the initial brush of his lips to the firm press of his mouth against your neck. the sensation dances between pleasure and a hint of delicious pain, fueling the fire that burns within you. your body responds instinctively, arching towards him, seeking more of his intoxicating presence.

with each suckle on your skin, he draws you deeper into a realm of heightened desire. time seems to stretch as you surrender to the rapture he bestows upon you. waves of pleasure ripple through your body, radiating from the focal point where yeosang's lips and teeth meet your neck.

the sensation of his mouth on your neck becomes all-encompassing, consuming your senses. you can feel the subtle suction, the way he caresses your skin with his tongue, leaving a trail of coolness in his wake. it's as if he's imprinting himself upon you, etching his mark into your very being.

you both take turns, marking the other with purple and red hues throughout the night. the room is filled with an air of intimacy and passion as your bodies intertwine, leaving trails of vibrant colors on each other's skin.

your body pressed against his, a fiery desire coursing through your veins. with each movement, you feel the unmistakable hardness of his arousal against your clothed core. a soft gasp escapes your lips as he makes a sudden, sharp motion, causing a shiver of pleasure to run down your spine. your bodies move in sync, a seductive dance of longing and anticipation.

lost in the heat of the moment, you can't help but let out a moan, your pleasure intertwining with his. as your grinding intensifies, the room fills with the intoxicating scent of desire. time seems to stand still as you both surrender to your passion, your bodies seeking the ultimate connection.

masterlist

[littletealseal]

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ok I think after a few posts of drawing Beetlejuice regressed I think I should probably make a headcanon post for him! ^^ This will be split into two bits, one with babyre and toddlere, since I've seen most folks have him be toddlere, and I wanna have a swing at thinking up stuff for him in that head space c:

Baby BeeJ

🪲: Age range is about under a year

🪲: His caregivers are Adam, Barbara, and Jacques, Lydia sometimes helps look after tiny BeeJ being like a big sister figure to him

🪲: While much quieter than his usual self, he still babbles a lot when he gets something on his mind

🪲: Can be seen wearing a loose grey hoodie and dull purple sweat pants when this tiny. Beetlejuice does have a few onesies for when he's tiny, but he prefers to wear those to bed.

🪲: Incredibly clingy and super cuddly, loves being carried and cradled when this tiny. He hates to be left alone and will start to cry if left by himself for too long

🪲: Beetlejuice has a Cerberus plushie with each head being named, Sticks, Stones, Bones respectfully. They were a gift from Adam and Barbara after learning that BeeJ used to have a Cerberus plushie with the same names as a kid

🪲: While still hating them, he's surprisingly more compliant having to take baths, surely the toys and rubber ducks probably help with convincing him

🪲: Most of the toys he has are spooky themed of course, but some just have darker colors to them, still somewhat matching the theme

🪲: Always has a pacifier clipped to his hoodie or onesie, with a skull or black cat clip

🪲: Loves being bottle fed and read to, usually always puts him right to sleep from how relaxed he gets

Toddler BeeJ

🪲: Age ranges from 3 to 4

🪲: Adam, Barbara, and Jacques still look after him when smol

🪲: Much more chatty and much like his usual self, talks about all sorts of things that peak his interest and of course, asks tons of questions

🪲: Wears a purple tee shirt and dark blue overalls with a black cat patch on the front pocket when in this head space, also sporting a few bandages when necessary

🪲: While always a trouble maker, his mischievousness is amplified when in his toddler head space. He does harmless things but still manages to get into tons of trouble

🪲: Always needs to be kept an eye on during this time since he could run into trouble unknowingly, and also just hates to be alone like before, not as clingy but still loves cuddles

🪲: Still takes Sticks, Stones, Bones everywhere he goes

🪲: Now puts up much more of a fuss when it comes to baths, the rubber ducks and water crayons are still tempting though

🪲: Lots of spooky themed and dark colored toys for his age range, tons of teethers too in Halloween shapes since he now just gnaws on things than using pacifiers

🪲: Uses sippy cups instead of bottles now, still loves being read too

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

On to thoughts on those around BeeJ that might know about his regression, since ngl this was making me curious since I see BeeJ being pretty private about this.

Adam & Barbara: Both his cgs so yeah lol

Jacques: Also one of BeeJs cgs

Lydia: Def knows and helps out by watching over smol BeeJ at times

Ginger: Does know and is cool about it, she discovered Beetlejuices regression by stumbling across some of his plushies that were left out

Monster Across The Street: Doesn't know but does suspect something's up with how BeeJ acts sometimes. Though if he knew he'd be chill about it

Donny: Doesn't know and knowing Beetlejuice he wouldn't want Donny to know at all. If somehow he did find out, Donny would be more than accepting of his brothers regression

Bea: She'd be rather confused at first would eventually warm up to the idea of her son regressing if Beetlejuice ever told her

Nat: Confused as well and would at first think this is another excuse to not work, but after explaining everything about agere he'd slowly accept this being something his son genuinely enjoys doing, and it being something for BeeJ to use as a coping mechanism. Of course if Beetlejuice ever said anything about this

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Aaaand that's it! I hope you guys enjoy these! ^^

[hyunsvngs]

I might be out of pocket for this one, but I have a feeling you don’t mind.

Imagine you in line for the concert, and suddenly the kids come out because they want some more special time with Stay. Chan‘s wearing a black (self-made) tank top and grey sweats, he looks absolutely delectable. When he gets close to your area, the hem of his shirt accidentally gets tucked into his pants and all you can do is watch as if hypnotized as he moves his hand down and with two skilled fingers brings it back out again.

„Channie, finger me!!“

It takes you two seconds to realize that that shout actually came from your mouth, but Chan clocks you instantly. His eyes land on yours and under his burning gaze you don’t know if you should curse every decision you ever made in your life to get you here or thank every deity out there to bless you with this moment.

He slowly draws closer to you and your eyes only leave his as he begs one of the security men towards him with this damn motion again! He smirks at you one last time, and then leaves without another word.

„Ma‘am, follow me please“ the security says and you take a second to come back to your senses and process everything. „It’s the new protocol, ma‘am, please follow me.“ Right, the new protocol. It’s been announced everywhere. With the „fans“ acting more out and everything becoming more and more dangerous for the kids, JYPE announced that they may remove anyone and everyone if a member if the band, staff or crew see so fit.

So that’s it then, you think. No concert for you tonight, maybe no concert ever, just because you couldn’t keep your damn mouth shut. All those thoughts run through your mind as you follow the security inside the venue, possibly to check your identity and block you from every future event. You thought that they would do this right at the entrance, keep it short and simple, but instead you’re lead further and further into the building, until you reach a door that reads „Staff only“

Pushing through it you‘re met with a stark contrast to the empty and silent halls outside. In here everyone is buzzing, people shouting and running everywhere. It seems so chaotic but you can’t help and think that it sort of looks like a choreographed dance, everyone knowing exactly where to place their hands and feet to still move forward without blocking anyone else. You’re not left time to awe at this, however, as the security keeps on moving at a fast pace, weaving their way through this supposed chaos.

You only come to a halt once you’re stood in front of a door that reads „Dresser G“, where the security man knocks twice, two loud but short noises, and then leaves with the single command „Stay here until someone comes to get you.“

And so you wait, wondering for how long you‘ll have to stand here. Maybe the whole concert? That would be torture. But maybe then they‘ll let you see another show, when they see that you can be good, so you decide to be patient and simply what you deserve for fucking up earlier.

You’re patience isn’t put to a test, however, as the door opens after only a few seconds and before you can process anything else, you feel yourself being pulled inside by your wrist and then find yourself pushed against the now closed again door. You distinctly hear the lock being turned and it is only then that you also get to see what’s going on. And that’s when your breath stops.

There right in front of you, mere centimeters apart, stands the man you‘ve been longing for since forever now. What’s he doing here if he wants you removed? You almost want to open your mouth again, but before any sound can leave your throat, he already cut you off.

„So, you want me to finger you, huh?“ The slight smirk from earlier can be seen again and you feel your knees weaken at the sight only. You gulp nervously, desperately trying to speak, but not a sound moves past your lips.

„What, cat got your tongue now that you have to live up to your words? Can’t remember telling the security to lead you by Minho first. Plus he wouldn’t have left anything for me anyways. So, what is it, babygirl?“

His tone is slightly condescending, something you‘ve never heard of him before, not even when he was supposedly ill-speaking. But you can tell that beneath all of this, he’s still the sweet and caring man you know, you can see it in his eyes. They give you comfort, they tell you that you can back out any second if you so choose. They’re the only thing grounding you in this moment, these pools if chocolate keep you from floating all up into delulu space. And so, anchoring yourself in his eyes, you finally find the courage to speak up: „I’m so sorry, I know I shouldn’t have said that, I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I promise I‘ll be good and keep my mouth shut, just please don’t ban me from your events, I‘ll do anything-“

Your clueless rambling harshly comes to a halt once a large hand keeps your mouth shut. Your eyes widen in shock and your breath hitches in your throat, and although you don’t want to admit it, you also feel some familiar warmth and wetness starting to pool between your thighs.

„I didn’t ask for an apology, babygirl. I asked if you wanted me to finger you. So, will you be a good girl now, deliver on your words, and answer my question honestly when I remove my hand?“ A timid nod is all you manage as an answer, but it seems to suffice, since your mouth is freed instantly. Drawing one last breath to gather all your courage, you say: „Of course I want you to finger me. You’re Bang Christopher Chan after all, who wouldn’t want that?“

„Have you touched yourself before, imagining your fingers were mine?“ You can’t believe your ears when this is his reaction. You expected him to throw you out, to scream at you, maybe hit you even, but never had you expected this follow-up question. Nonetheless, his inquisitive stare tells you that you’re not hallucinating. He actually asked you that, and now he’s definitely waiting for an answer. „Y- yes, I have“ you admit shyly, your gaze dropping to avoid the burning sensation his stare provokes all over your body.

„Why?“ „I’m sorry?“ He gently hooks one finger under your chin and lifts your head so that your eyes meet again, and he looks softer again. „Why do you want me to finger you? Why do you imagine Channie‘s fingers, and not Jinnie‘s or Hannie‘s?“

Trick question, you actually had. You fantasized about all the members, actually, but none had you acting out like Chan had, and when you think about that, the reasoning comes to you easily. „Because you feel like home.“

When he says nothing in return, you see this as an invitation to move on with your explanation. „Because you’re always so kind and wonderful and sweet. You make me feel safe. And at the same time, I believe, or want to believe at least, that there’s this dark side you don’t want to set free, the one that inspired Red Lights and all those Daddy comments and possibly more that I don’t even know of. And I like the imagination of me being the one you let that side out with, the one you finally tie up and the one who screams Daddy for you the way you like it“

He nods slowly, looks you up and down one more time, and then his eyes darken. You think that you‘ve fucked up indefinitely, that you‘ve crossed a line and are now not only getting thrown out, but locked up also.

„I propose to you a deal. You can accept it, or you can deny it and leave as if none of this ever happened, okay? Is that alright with you, babygirl?“ That’s a strange way to tell you to fuck off, you think, but you nod anyway.

„Alright, so, here‘s the deal: I give you what you want, right now. I finger you just like you imagined. But I won’t let you come. And then you get a spot in the audience where I can see you at all times. You’re not allowed to touch yourself. You must have the time of your life at this concert. I want to see you sing, dance, the whole ordeal. And if I think that you‘ve done well, I‘ll have the security bring you backstage again and if you’re still as wet as you are right now, I’ll give you the rest. I‘ll tie you up, fuck you good, and you‘ll scream Daddy for me. But only if I think you‘ve been good during the show. Is that alright with you? As a reminder, you can also just leave and we’ll never talk about this again“

You’re brain short circuits, there’s no way he just said what you think he just said, is there? This is too good to be true. You read this sort of stuff in tumblr fanfiction, it doesn’t happen in real life. There is just no way. Or is there? What if there is? What if you give into your delusions just this once? What’s the worst that could happen? After all, you‘ve already embarrassed yourself beyond repair anyways. So there’s no harm in trying, right? „Alright“

„What was that, babygirl? I’m afraid I can’t hear you if you don’t speak up“

„I said alright! I agree to your deal, I‘ve read and agree with the terms and conditions“

„Good girl. Now be nice and quiet for me, you don’t want anyone hearing how desperate you are for me, do you?“

I might make a part 2 with what happens afterwards, but now I have to attend dance lessons. Cya :)

~🤍

WHAT THE FUCK I WANT MORE?!?!? IVE SAID IT ONCE ILL SAY IT AGAIN: MY FOLLOWERS ARE AUTHORS

♡ juno

[fatuismooches]

My previous asks about biting is just because i have cute aggression and your works are so cute (usually, one time i wanted to test out how dramatic my mascara was so i read some of your angst, cried) but now that i really think about it? my number one competitor is Il Dottore himself

It's my personal headcanon dottore has really bad cute aggression, sure it's mainly under control now because he's been alive for fuckinf Centuries (for all childhood friends works where the reader is male would it count as old man yaoi- *gets shot*) but with his lover? absolutely out of control

Maybe they're cuddling and his lover's hand gets close to his mouth? eated, chomped

childhood friends reader who has scars on their arms because of how hard dottore has bitten them

it gets so bad that the reader has to give him a taste of his own medicine, he bit them a few minutes ago and now he has his hand by their mouth? EATED (he gets so confused and then Realizes, unbeknownst to you, you started an all out war.)

Make sure to wear turtlenecks during the chomping war because if you walk past him wearing like, a tee-shirt he'll just move the collar of the shirt (or even stretch it, bastard) just to bite your shoulder and then act like nothing happened

after about the first week, you both look like you were mauled by a small cat.

Eventually, a truce is made, so it's not as bad, but you two still bite each other like feral cats.. It's just more provoked rather than "i have to get them back IMMEDIATELY"

So there's not as many bite marks everywhere, mainly on each other's arm and hands now because, what else are you supposed to do if your lover's hand is by your mouth? kiss it? fucking casual. Bite his cheek and watch him go absolutely insane though

some other harbingers who i think have cute aggression but not as bad

The second place is pantalone, he isnt bitey, but he will grab, squish, and tug at your cheeks aggressively if you say or do something cute whole cooing about the cuteness of what you just did

columbina will just, hug and squeeze you really REALLY tight if you do something cute, its hard to breathe but thats ok

the last and (funnily enough) least aggressive when it comes it cuteness, is childe, he'll hug you tightly (not as tight as columbina) and squish your cheeks, but only for a few seconds (unlike pantalone, who will literally make your face numb) he is lime a healthy mix of both of those two, he will get bitey however. - 🎈 pspsp smooches cmere i promise i wont bite you (lying)

🎈 ANON?? HELP IM SORRY FOR MESSING UP YOUR MASCARA I DIDNT MEAN TO 😭 (or did I?) But omg, I honestly didn't know what cute aggression was until now, thank you for informing me of this AND I'M GONNA BE STEALING YOUR HCS BC THATS TOO CUTE 🤲❤️❤️😭

I'm just. EXPLODING 💥 Bro doesn't know how to control his biting strength too so he ends up drawing blood sometimes 😔 (But it's okay since it's Dottore) I bet people assume the scars you have are from something cool like battles but nope... you got BIT by a human, multiple times at that. The first time it happened you probably let out a little scream because he's literally nomming on you unprompted and... you've never met anyone who does that 😨 I wonder if he even has an explanation for it or he just... does it? He just wants to bite you and he will, you can't stop him😭🙏

I mean, you get used to the random bitings, but if there's one thing about you, is that you will put him in his place if need be! If Dottore thinks he can just go on ranting about his research after fatally biting you, he's wrong 😒 He starts waving his hands around in excitement and you know what. Bitten. Nom-nom. Congrats. This is one of the very few times Dottore's rendered speechless. (Worst mistake of your life.) You know how regular couples give each other good morning/night kisses? Well Zandik does something like that... he just bites you unprovoked instead. It's the absolute worst during the Akademiya because you're sweating so hard trying to cover all of your skin but also trying to avoid getting nipped on the neck by that irritating deadly scholar 🫠 He is so nonchalant about it too 😒 But you're not. As soon as you land a bite you're grinning so hard and he's just like 😐 Ehehe... pretending to kiss his cheek and then nibbling on it and giving it a lil bite... I'm evaporating... i love the little love bites <3

THE PANTALONE ONE IS SOOO TRUEEE AWWW 😭🥺🥺🥺 I see him as very touchy so omggg him squishing your cheeks is so cute 😭 You would just be talking and saying something unintentionally adorable to him and all of a sudden he's cupping and then squishing your cheeks all while going on about how cute his darling is, and your words are now getting all garbled up 😔 it's A NEED. (Then he'll kiss your cheeks so gently if you get pouty cuz he pulled too hard :(( <3)

100% agreed on Bina she is. A MONSTER. when it comes to those hugs, you may faint if you don't build up some resistance to it. You can try to do it back to her but for some reason, she isn't really affected by it even if you muster up all your strength, but she still adores the notion! And Childe... RAHHH THESE ARE SO GOOD!! It's funny for him to be the least aggressive but his co-workers are something else I guess 😭 We love a king who's so affectionate but also won't kill you with it 🤭 I imagine if you return it he would be so flattered...especially if you're strong enough to actually keep him from leaving your hug. Now that's the good stuff.

🎈 anon 😳 you can bite me if you want, I don't mind 😌🫶

[diazheartsbuckley]

Hi Caroline!

Share something about: No plot just porn aka the smutty mechanic fic

Please and thank you!

Hi Tanis! 🥰

I’m so glad that you asked honestly because this fic is etched into my brain (yet I haven’t written anything for it, until now). There’s gonna be a lot of heavy flirting and teasing before they get it on tho

For those of you who don’t know the idea, you can find it here 💗

More under cut

Buck turns around on his heel, almost falling over his long legs as the person behind him grabs him by the waist, holding him in place.

He’s a little too in his own head to register it at first, thoughts racing in a million different directions. He’s about to be late for a meeting because his stupid car won’t cooperate with him. He didn’t even know where he was when he called for a tow truck. Well, Texas, he knows that much for sure. He should’ve insisted on getting plane tickets instead of having to drive nearly 300 miles.

The client is important. More important than anything else in Buck’s career so far and he hates it. He doesn’t even like this idiotic job. His skin feels like it’s about to peel of his bones, that’s how much he’s sweating in the tight, navy blue suit that’s clinging to every inch of his body.

“You alright there, darlin’?” The man now standing in front of him says. He’s wearing a dark green t-shirt and black cargo pants, hugging his muscular thighs. Sunkissed skin is peering out from beneath his shirt, small streaks of grease traced across his arms and even a few on his cheek.

The man wipes his hands on a piece of cloth that Buck assumes once was white but now is a testament to his rugged work. Curious dark brown eyes catches his and a grin spreads across his face, almost pearly white teeth appear beneath pink, plush lips.

His beauty catches Buck a little off guard and he glances down his own body, only to realize that his suit now has specks of grease everywhere.

Exactly what I needed today.

Long fingers make it through tussled brown hair and the man, he can only assume that it’s the owner of the auto shop, is looking at him with a smile that speaks for itself.

Buck takes a deep breath before he rubs his wrists, titling his head a little.

How long is too long to not reply to someone talking to you? Especially when they look like that.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” The man chuckles, clearly amused by Buck’s expression.

And apparently this man is psychic too because Buck has suddenly lost the ability to fucking speak. When he finally does, the words pour out of him like a waterfall. And he doesn’t know why.

“I-… yes. I’ve been driving for the past three hours and I have no idea where the hell I am. And I’m about to be late for the most important meeting of my life all because my car is a piece of shit that apparently hates me. And to make things even better, it’s hotter than hell here and I have to be in a suit. I don’t even like suits” Buck takes a deep breath, not knowing why he just put all of that on a stranger.

He frowns, as if surprised by his own words, not even realizing that half of them came out the way that they did.

The mechanic, now with less grease on his hands, places them on Buck’s shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. And Buck doesn’t even mind. A drop dead creature of a man is touching him, somehow soothing him with his firm hands. Normally he wouldn’t accept strangers just touching him but those brown eyes draw him in, even making him chuckle lightly too.

“Okay, darlin’. Why don’t you start by telling me your name? And you should probably take this off” Fingertips make their way to the collar of Buck’s blazer, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and he swallows dryly.

Meeting? What meeting?

Buck blinks, mouth falling slightly agape as calloused fingertips brush against his warm skin. “I’m Buck. Do you ask all your customers to get undressed?” He asks, feeling a surge of confidence and… something else rushing throughout his body.

“Buck” The mechanic looks like he’s almost tasting how the word feels on his tongue and he nods slightly, clearly enjoying it a little too much. “I’m Eddie” He introduces himself as he pulls his hands away from Buck’s blazer, shifting his weight from one foot to another before he folds his arms across his chest.

Big, sweaty muscles make their appearance known underneath his shirt and Buck wants nothing more to just sink in his teeth in them, to trace the length of his di-…delts, definitely delts. Nothing else.

“And no, not at all of them, only the attractive ones” A smirk spread across Eddie’s face, clearly proud of his enticing behavior. “Now, Buck, where were we? Something about your car being a piece of shit, huh?” Eddie brushes his fingertips across his upper arm, drawing attention to his tattoo that hides just below the sleeve of his shirt.

He turns around, quick strides taking him to Buck’s car and before Buck has a chance to react, Eddie is inside. The car. Not him. Although the latter sounds much better right now. Or actually, it just sounds much better. Period.

Ask me about my wips 💌

[therexasher]

Okay this is my first time posting on here, so please be patient with me!!

Tw: suicidal tendencies, self harm, self sabotage, suicide attempt, a little bit of smut

Word count: 2.8k

MJ fanfic, suicidal male reader,

Please read with caution 🙏, if this triggers you, don’t worry, I’ll make more writings (especially MJ) that are more wholesome to read, so please don’t feel like you NEED to read it, if it doesn’t suit you and you’re sensitive I understand pookie🫶🏽🫶🏽💞💞

It’s been years since that faithful day I was abandoned by everyone I’ve ever come to love. That day, I couldn’t hold anything to myself anymore. I felt so useless and worthless at the same time. I thought all I needed was a partner. Who would’ve thought I’d get with THE Michael Jackson. Certainly not me. But even this isn’t helping.

Michael is not home half the time, it brings memories of me being neglected. Of course I don’t communicate it, because I’m afraid he won’t listen and take my feelings for granted. So I keep to myself. Even when he is home, it’s rare, but then, he gets called for some last minute interview.

It feels like I have nobody again. I can’t handle this, I won’t handle this.

I rush out of bed, dashing to the bathroom in a flash, and for the first time in so long, I look at myself in the mirror. I’m small, I haven’t been eating, I can almost seen my ribcage. My face looks withered and sleepy, even though that’s what I do every day now. I wear a serious but confused expression on my face. I wear one of Michael’s hoodies, with the words, ‘BAD’ which is written in red ink. My black sweats are ripped, the fabric is slowly tearing off. This is my face. My face I wore every day. No one seeing my cries for help. No one will now. It will all be nothing. I won’t be a life. I’ll be just that. A face.

I know Michael takes medication for his pain. They’re prescribed to him, and I might—I hope, I’m allergic to something in those pills, this might finally end my pain. Before that, drawing blood will increase my chances of not feeling much pain from overdosing. I take out my pocket knife I’ve been hiding in the bathroom cabinet. While he’s busy rehearsing for Bad or Speed Demon, he’ll never see this coming. I’m completely alone in this house. In this moment. No one can stop me. No one will stop me. It’s just me. Me and me alone. I slide my sleeve up to my forearm, just enough to see my arm and the veins popping out. I take a deep breath, bringing the knife close to my arm, I take about another breath and with one swift move, I cut.

I do the same to other arm, drawing countless blood everywhere. The floor slowly being painted by my blood. I don’t wince or cry, I’m so used to pain, it doesn’t bother me anymore. I open the mirror cabinet, the rows of pills, different names, different colors, different combinations. I take as many pills as I can out of the cabinet, downing almost all of them. Immediately, I feel the side effects, I feel the burning sensation in my chest, but it’s too much. For the first time, the pain is too much, I gag and scream, but no one can hear me. I’m alone. No one can hear my screams. They never did.

I scream until my throat hurts,

“Help…” I mumble, I don’t feel my body anymore, my thinking slows, my mind draws a blank, and I black out.

I wake up in a blank white room, an eerie silence falls inside the room. I sit up and look around. There’s nothing but white walls and silence. I get to my feet, confused on where I am and how I got here.

“Hello?” I yell out, no answer. Is this my conscious mind? Am I inside my own head?

“Why do you continue to hurt yourself, sweetheart?” A soft voice behind me. I whip my head around. It’s him. Michael.

He’s wearing the Bad outfit, but his face is sad, I can see tears start to form in his eyes, he walks toward me, cupping my face, looking deeply into my eyes, like he’s studying me, studying my mind, studying me for an answer. But I’ve seen this look before. The look you give your son when he leaves to the army. Fear.

In an instant, the scene changes again, but this time, I’m in the room. The one at home. It’s dark, the silky sheets underneath me bring a sense of comfort to me, a sigh in relief, I’m in the bed, back home, but how did I get in the bed? I thought I blacked out. The bed begins to rock back and forth, like water, huh? I look out the window. I’m not home. There’s no roads. Waves. I’m on a boat. How did I get here? And what is going on? Just when I try and collect my thoughts, I hear screaming,

“Let me see him! I want to see him! Where is he!!?” That voice, it’s familiar. It’s Michael. He’s looking for me. But I can’t move. I’m paralyzed by fear.

The room rocks again, the waves are strong, strong than any waves I’ve ever seen. The rocking of the room makes me sick. I’ve never been sea sick before, but this is definitely taking a toll on me.

“Let me see him!!” The screaming continues, it hurts to hear him scream like that, the only light in this room is the moon, seeping into the cracks of the window, casting a shadow of light.

“Where is he?!! I want to see him!!” His screaming tears me to shreds… and just like that, the screaming stops, by an abrupt clash of water. I pause and try to listen for any further sounds. None. Silence.

No more screams. No more sounds of movement. Now only the rocking boat, and my stomach feeling sick.

“Michael?…” I softly whisper, I swallow the lump in my throat, standing up, hovering over the door. I admit, I’m scared, no, more than scared. Terrified.

I clamp down on the door knob, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath in, letting it out through my mouth. I open my eyes again, finally opening the door.

“Ah!” I yelp, water. Water is cold. Water. The boat is flooding. I realize now, he screamed because he couldn’t get to me. He screamed because he was scared he would never seem me again. He screamed, because he didn’t know when he could say the words “I love you,” to me again.

“Michael! Michael where are you?” Now I’m the one screaming. The corridor is narrow and dark. But I don’t care. I need to see if he is alright. I manage to somewhat get in the water, it’s cold, colder than ice. I wade in the water, shivering from the cold, I look for any signs of Michael, only a few steps in, I feel something, I kick something in the leg, I look down, I’m by a window, the light from the moon casting that same shadow I seen in the room. My breath becomes shaky, I slowly move my head down. It’s him. It’s Michael. But he’s dead. Wearing that same Bad outfit I seen him wear previously. I let out a bone chilling scream. Then the scene changes again. Only this time, it’s something that I want.

I open my eyes, the wind whips my hair, my eyes start to water. I’m hanging from a building, several stories high, this will definitely kill me, but what’s holding me up? I look up, my messy hair tearing my vision, but even through my messy hair, I can still see him. Michael.

“I gotcha. I won’t let you fall, okay?” His voice, so calm, soothing, I never took the time to actually listen, my own thoughts drowned out all sounds around me. This is the first time I’m hearing him.

“Why won’t you drop me?”

“What? Are you crazy? I’m not dropping you baby.”

“Hm, that’s interesting.” He’s not holding my hand, or rather, my wrist, so I can’t even let go if I wanted to. Smart move.

The wind finally moves the hair from my eyes, I see him. I see the look of concern on his face. That same look he gave me while in the blank room, except this time, he’s crying. I see dry tears, and new ones coming in to replace them. His strength is getting weaker, but he continues to hold onto me. He’s still wearing that Bad outfit. What’s with the reputation of this outfit specifically?

He looks sad and disappointed all at once. I never loved anyone. And to be honest, I don’t think anyone loves me either. But seeing that look on his face. Now I’m crying. I realize now, I don’t want to die. I don’t want to leave this world. I don’t want to leave this world without him. I love him. His grip tries its best to tighten around me, but to no avail,

“I… can’t…” He says through gritted teeth, my breath quickens, my heartbeat accelerating, no no, I don’t want to die, I don’t. In a flash, his loses grip on my wrist, letting go. I scream and begin to fall rapidly down the sky.

Once I reach the bottom, it goes black, the scene changes again, but I’m alive. I’m alive and I’m here. I still feel the sensation of where he grabbed my wrist, clinging onto it, trying to save me. Me. Me of all people. But I’m alive now. I’m okay. I look around, there’s lots of people around me. Lots of people. I remember this scene, this set, it’s the making of The Way You Make Me Feel. I came here once before, but I’m here now. I walk farther into the set, putting my hoodie on to try and go unnoticed. I hear the director call out “action!” And in a flash, I see the wonder of a man work his magic.

His body on beat with the music, following the lady. Not long after, she tries to kiss Michael, but quickly pushes away, he looks fully into it. He’s willing to kiss her. I feel a ping in my stomach. I’ve felt this before, long ago, when I thought I knew what love was and who I wanted to be with. Jealousy.

The Jealous feeling in my stomach swells, the lump in my throat hurts, like I just got hit by a train. I finally understand, after so long, I value this love. I never wanted to die, I wanted attention. I never needed help, I needed love. My screams didn’t work because they knew, they knew I need want all of those things.

“Stop!” I yell, “stop…” I repeat in a whisper, I fall to my knees and cry, I hear nothing but silence, as I lay there crying, then, the scene changes again.

I open my eyes, a blank room, again? I thought, I sit up, and realize where I am. I’m in the hospital. How did I get here? I look at he table to my right, flowers around a Get Well card, along with a rainbow balloon. This must be Michael’s doing. I chuckle at the gesture, picking up the card and reading it,

When I found you I had no where else to go

I was lost and confused

But you helped me

My love for you shines brighter than the brightest star

You will forever be my favorite boy

I love you so much

Love, Michael

Gosh, he’s such a romantic freak. I laugh into my hand, why did I ever take him for granted? This whole time, I thought I was the one being taken for granted. Maybe those dreams helped me, whatever they were.

I take one of the flowers, it’s a red flower, I don’t know much about flowers, so I’m not sure what it is, but, nonetheless, it smells wonderful. The smell reminds me Michael’s perfume. That sense of safety and security. I let out a pleasant sigh upon sniffing the flower. Suddenly, the door then opens,

“Sorry sweetheart, I had to use the bath- baby?” He looks shocked, but why? I tilt my head in confusion, and in seconds, he starts to cry and cling onto me.

“Whoa, Mikey, what’s wrong?” Mikey? Really? Mikey? That’s the best you can do? I bite my lip from the cringe name, he chuckles softly in my shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I like it love.” As if he knew what I was thinking. Gosh, this man is so perfect in every way. Why did I ever neglect him?

Now I’m the one crying. We hug each other again, this time, crying in each other’s embrace. I missed him so much.

“I’m sorry…” I whisper, “you don’t deserve someone like me…” he pulls away from the hug, looking into my eyes deeply, like in the blank room, cupping my face, like in the blank room, but this time he isn’t studying me for an answer, but rather, it’s something different, reassurance.

I place a hand on his cheek, he gives me a kiss on my forehead, then we touch foreheads together. This is it. Love. The love I never thought I would find.

“The doctors said…” he crooks, “you were trying to kill yourself. That you tried to overdose on my pills,” he pulls his forehead away, “is that true? Were you really going to kill yourself?” My hands travel my arms of where I cut at, trying to cover it up, he stops me, placing his hand over mine,

“Don’t cover it up, I already saw,” he takes a breath, “so you were trying…” he looks down at his feet, his outfit makes it seem like he just got out of rehearsals. I can’t lie to him. Not anymore.

“Yes… I tried to kill myself…” I shut my eyes for a split second, feeling chills run up and down my spine at my own confession. I tug his sleeve, his curls dangle from his face, his brown eyes shine in the lights above us, he saved me. Now it’s time I do the same.

“I promise. From this day fourth, I will not try any suicidal attempts. I understand the meaning of love and how you care me for me. I understand that I value that now. I love you Michael, and I’m sorry I don’t say it or show it enough. But I will do better.” I give him a warm smile, he chuckles,

“Either that coma really helped you, or you feel remorse.”

“Both- wait did you say coma?”

“Yeah, you were in a coma for about a month,” I was in a coma? For a month? But that didn’t even feel like a month. I heard some people have dreams while in a coma, but that felt too real to be a dream, and with the scene changing each time? It just all felt wrong. I hug myself thinking about it, it gives me an uneasy feeling. He notices and places a hand on my cheek,

“What’s wrong hunny?” His voice is soft and gentle, enough to calm my nerves. I explain to him what happened while I was in the coma, trying not to sound too crazy.

He cocks his head to the side,

“Huh, so that all happened while you were asleep?”

“Yeah… pretty weird… and it felt so real too. I thought you were really there,”

“Well you dreams are wrong,”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well for one thing, I wouldn’t let you go if you dangling on a roof, if I knew I wouldn’t be able to pull you up, I’d go with you. Secondly, I wouldn’t put you in a situation of which I knew It would hurt you, so those two dreams are wrong. The other ones are pretty accurate.” He smiles and I laugh at his remarks, maybe he’s right, I’m starting to believe that now,

“Oh yeah, hunny,”

“Yes?”

“When we get back home, I have a surprise for you,” he gets real close to my ear, I can feel his hot breath against me, sending my body with a tingling feeling, my face feels hot like fire, “I’m going to show you just how much I love you, so you will never do this again.” He slowly begins to rub my thighs and I have to remind him we’re in a hospital,

“I don’t care. You’re so lucky I don’t take you into the bathroom right now.” I feel my erection start to grow and get hard, I place a hand over my crotch, he stops me, his face so close to mine, I can feel his dangling curls on my forehead,

“Don’t hide it from me, baby.” His kisses me more passionate than ever, he slips his tongue in my mouth, I allow him to.

“Maybe we should take that bathroom trip now, huh?”

ACK! If you read this far, you are a super awesome and I love you, more to come soon, I’m so new to this tumblr thing, so please be patient with me.