#I WILL STILL LOVE UR PIECE REGARDLESS OF HOW IT LOOKS

[lotus-pear]

still hesitating abt joining [because how the hell do I draw a dazai] but more seriously, everyone's entry are so pretty

bbg drawing dazai is soooo easy trust🙏🏼 he's literally the autism creature with a black wig. observe

perfect replica

[lexluvswriting]

♛ Princess Treatment.

“Ain’t it like thunder under earth, the sound it makes? Ain’t it exciting you, the rumble where you lay?”

- NFWMB; Hozier.

-> Pairing: Loki x plus-size! princess! reader.

-> CW: 18+ CONTENT! NSFW! SMUT AHEAD! MINORS, DNI. fem! reader (she/her), fem genitalia used, plus-size reader, allusions to low self-confidence and harmful behaviours, mentions of fat shaming, princess reader au! Loki is a doting, loving, lowkey-obsessed partner who loves to see us shine! Breeding! DON’T be like these dummies, regardless of what timeline ur in. Wrap. Before. You. Tap.

-> TW: porn with slight plot; no use of y/n; soft-ish dom!Loki x sub!reader; unprotected p in v sex; oral sex (f receiving); face-sitting; praising (f receiving); body worship (f receiving); dirty talk; breeding (lol); mirror sex, mirror sex, mirror sex!

W/C: 4.8

╰┈➤ Lex's note: thanks to this anon’s req, you all have this!! firstly: i am so sorry for ghosting, and being super late in my fic posting!!! it wasn’t intentional at all 😔 (uni is hard & mental health takes a toll T-T). second: Loki! Likes! Thick! Girls! anyway- Hozier did inspire this, HOW DID YOU KNOW?? indeed, NOTHING fucks with Loki's baby. I hope i did this request justice AND i hope we all giggle & squeal at this beautiful God the way i did. TYSM ANON for requesting <3 <3

“I do not believe this to be a fair council if we are not considering the voices of the people.”

Your voice was clear as you stood to say your piece, smoothing one of the ruffles along the waistline of your dress as you did so. Your head was held high as you spoke, commanding the attention of all the others who were part of this monthly council- the royals from the territories surrounding Asgard would convene at certain locations routinely to discuss oncoming threats, or other diplomatic concerns as ‘equals’, with today’s meeting taking place in one of King Odin’s many conference chambers.

“Malekith’s constant threats put strain on our territories, yes, but also on our citizens. Pulling more tithe from our villages will not warrant greater victory- I believe that it will worsen the tensions that are already rising.” As you continued your advocacy, you glanced around to ensure you held each attendant’s attention, before your eyes settled on blue irises that twinkled with usual cunning charm. Your mouth was on auto-pilot- this speech rehearsed to the point where you mumbled it in your sleep at times- allowing you to focus on the beauty of the prince across the table. His eyes of blue, like Jotunheim ice, watched you with a fondness only you could recognise while he reclined in his chair, flipping his dagger as he listened to you. Each time you felt flustered, you’d look back to him, for his eyes to soften and his chin to dip in the smallest, softest of encouraging nods, flushing out your nerves and leaving a sensual warmth that started in your chest and leaked into your lower stomach. You could do this. You could do this, then retreat back to the comfort of your lover’s room and let him coddle you like he loved to do.

“As lovely as your attempts are, princess, we do not have time to shed wasteful tears over a few peasant bodies.” A dry, dismissive voice cut you off before you could conclude; the callousness in his mention of the ‘peasants’- including your own people- made your fists curl. An older man from a neighbouring kingdom waved his hand dismissively as he sat back in his chair, swirling his goblet lazily. He barely spared you a glance, shaking his head as he continued with a bored expression,

“We deploy soldiers to protect these peasants. What do they need to fear? They are expected to provide mass harvests, and we deploy mass protection. If they do not know how to serve their kingdoms, why should we prioritise the preservation of such useless people?” 

Your breath stopped, eyes widening as you turned to him directly, yet you sensed Loki go deadly still in your peripheral, noticing the way he caught the dagger, blade facing up, holding it a little tighter as the lord spoke.

“Their families are starving enough as it is. They do not control the weather, nor the integrity of the soil! We cannot possibly place more expectations-”

“If they were worried about providing for their kingdoms, they would not be so reckless in their breeding, princess. If they were smarter, they’d sacrifice a few of those runts to gain more supplies. That, my dear, is why the rich stay rich, and the poor stay poor.” He droned on, the lord’s beady eyes finally looking at you, up and down slowly before his lip curled in a sneer,

“Perhaps their ‘starvation’ is simply a thinness they’ve earnt from working as hard as they have. Not that one might expect you to understand, princess.” The comment left a bitter taste in your mouth, making your throat tighten as the room suddenly went cold. You felt as if every pair of eyes watched you- scrutinising your rounder, curvier appearance compared to others. Granted, you weren’t the most ‘conforming’ to society’s beauty standards as far as princesses went within the nine realms, but you had believed your curvier body type was representative- beautiful- despite the criticisms. Yet the current whispers that swirled from around the room, the stares that your paranoia sucked in greedily, it made you want to crumble in a little heap and wither. In that moment, your stomach tightened, as if it would never eat again, and you felt yourself sucking in, straightening your posture subconsciously at his twisted, barbed retort.

“What exactly are you trying to imply?” The voice that spoke up was not your own but rather, the God of Mischief who stayed reclined. You watched him, slowly twirling his dagger between his fingers again- a calculating, threatening display of dexterity that made the bystanders in the room stiffen- while he cocked his head the way a beast would before devouring its prey. You had been on the receiving end of that stare many a time, but his eyes would not gleam with murderous intent; rather a hunger, as if you were a Goddess offering your nectar to a starving man. Yet even that memory couldn’t quell the uneasiness you felt as you slowly sat down, still silent.

“I did not say you could sit, princess.”

Your thighs had barely touched the edge of the chair as you froze, eyes flicking up to meet Loki’s who watched you with that mischievous gleam; plotting, planning, the way he usually was. You tried to shake your head, not wanting to be in the spotlight any longer, but he nodded, pointing his dagger at you as if it were a goblet- finally stirring something in you at his protectiveness,

“I’d like to hear you finish,” Your thighs squeezed together at the implication, “Your ideas seemed very promising- far more fulfilling than the vitriol I’ve heard during the earlier half of this forsaken meeting.” Huffs and murmurs of protest started, before being hushed as Thor- a supporter of your’s and his brother’s private relationship- cleared his throat, nodding at you to continue.

You hesitated, swallowing thickly as you slowly stood up again, voice considerably less confident than before as you completed your proposal, which had left the other participants nodding or murmuring contemplatively to those next to them. The lord who had insulted you simply rolled his eyes, taking a swig of his goblet before chiming in again- as if he couldn’t help himself-

“Ah, yes. The people’s princess. Forgive me for being so ‘out of order’,” His sneer told you the exact opposite as he sat back with a sigh, “At least they’ll know who to come to for meat if your lands are ever amidst a siege.” He muttered under his breath, earning a few malicious sneers and snickers, and as Loki snarled, Thor banged his hammer against the table,

“That will conclude this meeting. We will return later, when we have remembered how to behave like proper royals, and not barbaric animals.” He growled, the threat evident in his voice. You didn’t meet Loki’s gaze as you ducked your head, the first one to leave the meeting hall with tears that welled quickly.

--- ⋆⁺₊✧｡˚⋆♛｡⁺୨୧˚⋆⁺₊✧ ---

“I never want to go to another meeting again.”

“Oh, my darling, don’t say that.” He murmured, pressing kisses to the crown of your head as you buried your face against his torso. He had been laid back against the headboard of his bed, waiting for you after the meeting with his arms out wide as soon as you entered, and you crawled into them with teary eyes, sniffling as you lay in between his legs, face nuzzled against his torso as you cried a little.

“I feel absolutely humiliated!”

“My darling- my little Goddess- your father sends you as a representative to these meetings because he sees your brilliance, as do I-”

“Yet they all laughed at me!”

“Nobody would dare, my love, not unless they wanted my daggers carving out their insides.” His voice had remained soothing as he cooed praises, one hand rubbing your back while the other loosened the ties of your dress, letting you relax more, breathing freely as the corset underneath the bodice stopped crushing your chest and compressing your internal organs.

“He was right.”

“Who, love?” He hummed, barely listening to your vent, more focused on soothing you and your body- his vice, as he’d tell you whenever he was in between your legs, or looking up at you as you’d ride him- only to pause at your next words.

“The lord.” You sniffled, looking up at him with teary eyes as you shuffled slightly, climbing up him to rest your head against his chest.

“The lord? The lord is an insignificant fool- a worm who has been left alive to wriggle for too long. You are wonderful, beloved-”

“Loki.” You groaned, sullen as you hid your face against his neck, not in the mood for sympathy- regardless of how sincere it may have been.

“Be honest with yourself!” You snapped, the anger not even anger at all, but a storm of self-doubt, harsh self-criticism and insecurity,

“All these nobles see is a frumpy pig in pearls & frilly dresses, alright? So let us say it for what it is. I am fat. I am fat, and hard to look at, and I don’t even look like a proper princess-”

“Never,” He had flipped you both over faster than you could blink, his snarl protective as he grabbed your face with his left hand, pinning your hands above your head on the pillow with your right, rearranging your positions with that unfair godly strength he possessed, “Utter that filth again.”

Your tears had stopped in their tracks; doe eyes wide as you looked up at him, pouty lips parted in shock, face slightly flushed from crying.

“For as long as the sun brings day, and the moon calls night, I never want to hear you utter such horrid curses. Not a damn word. Do you hear me?” He growled, fingers holding your chin firmly before his hand cupped the side of your face instead, thumb brushing away the tears that lingered before he rubbed at the soft squish of your cheek. His index and thumb pinched at the apples of your cheek- the only apples he’d crave as long as he lived- gently, before kissing either side of your face.

“You are the only woman in all nine realms I love. You are the only woman I want; be it above me, beneath me or by my side. You may be the people’s princess, but you are a queen to me. The only woman I would kneel for- be it in the comfort of our bed chambers, or in the middle of the damn courtyard. Understand?” His words reverberated in your ears, rattling around your puddle of a brain before slinking over your heart and straight down to your core. The warmth he had triggered when he defended you during the meeting came back again in full force, your breathing hitching as you gawked up at him, before finally nodding dumbly, as if you had lost all ability to speak.

“If this is truly how you feel, then I must be punished for failing you.”

You blinked, trying to understand where he was going with this- your sulky voice a mere squeak as you echoed his words,

“P… punished?-”

“Oh, yes. Severely punished, for failing to present just how infatuated I am.” He murmured lowly as if this was a grave offence, his cock stirring in his pants as he saw your brain working behind your eyes; the way the words clicked and the way your thighs squeezed together, making your cheeks redden as your lips quivered.

“If I have to fuck my love into you for you to remember how beautiful you are, then I will make sure neither of us leave this bed until I have done it successfully.” His voice had taken a husky dive, your stomach coiling as your chest puffed up, nipples pebbling beneath the layers of fabric making up the bodice of your dress. Your body responded for you, tears drying to accommodate the curious twinkles of desire that began to shine through instead. His hands moved slowly, grabbing at the clothed flesh of your shapely hips, before slowly moving up over your body- your heart racing, even skipping a few beats from the intensity that he stared at you with- before his palms cupped your breasts. The soft mounds of your body could not simply be contained by a God’s measly palm, as if testament to your beauty, and he groaned at the sight, before grabbing his dagger impatiently, making you squeak,

“Loki!” You grabbed his hand, “I like this gown.” You mumbled, the lust glazing over your irises, making him huff softly before discarding the small weapon, only to pull you to sit up right on the bed with him, ridding you of the garment as he pulled it off.

“I could have bought you ten more. Ten more dresses to adorn this heavenly body.” His praise was a hungry growl- the timbre of his voice becoming more and more telling of his lustful desires- as his lips found purchase against the top of your breasts, making you gasp as his hands grabbed at the globes of your rear- his cock twitching at each whimper, straining unbearably against his pants as he beheld you. His princess. His darling. 

And he’d happily slaughter anyone who threatened your comfort.

“Look at yourself, princess,”

His hands turned you around like you were a ragdoll, squeezing your hips as he pressed his own against the flesh of your ass, making you whine softly as you shut your eyes, knowing exactly where he had positioned you both. He knelt behind you on the bed, making you sit on your knees while he peeked over your shoulder, resting his chin on the surface, his icy eyes meeting yours in the mirror in front of his bed after a soft squeeze of your breast made your eyes flutter open.

“Loki-”

“Hush, my darling. I know what you want… my needy little princess. My precious girl.”

His praises only made your cunt clench eagerly, the emptiness making you whine as your eyes followed the way his hands roamed over you in the mirror. Where you saw cellulite and stretch marks, he saw health. Where you saw rolls of fat and pudginess, he saw comfort. Your breasts were his pillows, your thighs his ear muffs during the colder seasons; your body was his home, and he planned to show you just how much it all meant to him. How much you meant to him.

“You know, darling, in Jotunheim… where I was born?” A squeeze of your left breast, fingers gently capturing your nipple between them to toy with while he murmured in your ear between kisses,

“The male giants believe that the bigger their mate, the healthier their children would be. And for you, my princess, the giants would see curves like yours and go to war in your name.” He hummed, licking and nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck while he teased your body gently, your breathy whines and heedy noises making him feral. Your eyes widened at his words, before his other hand cupped your mound, barely giving you time to adjust before his teeth marked your skin, making you moan abruptly. You saw the way he smiled wolfishly in the reflection of the mirror, his low chuckle alluring to your senses as he purred in your ear,

“Does that appeal to you, princess? Wielding the knowledge that your body alone appeals to my base desires- my primal needs?” He growled the word accordingly, and you bucked your hips back into his clothed cock while his fingers sampled the wetness pooling in the apex between your thighs. 

“Loki-”

“Allow me, my love, to make you feel like a queen tonight.”

As if he didn’t do that anyway.

He pulled away, before lying down with his head near the foot of the bed, so you’d see your reflection as he pulled you up to straddle his chest.

“My face is your throne, beloved. And I’d like to taste everything you have to offer.” He murmured, making your heart leap up to your throat, before plummeting straight down to your stomach as he wrapped his arms around your pillowy thighs, the sensation of him handling you making you squeak. Once your dripping cunt was hovering over his face, he groaned softly, as if he had been starving, and your hands braced his arms gently as you mumbled his name, before inclining your head. He watched curiously, before realising his mistake and let magic dissolve his clothing, leaving you both equally bare, his cock jumping at the way your thighs squeezed slightly, enjoying the sight of his nakedness.

Without further ado, he pulled you down- the movement making you squeal lightly- until your lower lips connected with his. He pressed a loving kiss to your mound- the feeling making you shiver- his tongue poking out at your glistening folds, tasting your honey greedily as he lapped at you. The taste of you made his cock jump, combined with the string of moans and mewls you released while his tongue wrote a love letter between your legs. You cried out his name in a strained moan, hands immediately grabbing at his silken locks for some sort of stability while he smothered himself in your nectar, absolutely drinking you in like you were his last meal. Every single time he did this, it always managed to get better and better- how? You had no damn clue.

“Look at yourself for me, pet.” His voice sounded in your muddled brain, despite his mouth being occupied, making you look up towards the mirror in shock, only to notice a slightly greenish tinge to your eyes- green from his magic as you realised he was looking through your eyes, both of you watching the sight of yourself atop his face. The both of you enjoyed the way your body jerked and jumped in the mirror as his head moved eagerly, hands squeezing at the plump fat of your inner thighs as he ate you out eagerly, like it was his favourite activity.

“You know it is.” His wicked, wicked voice of liquid sex appeal reverberated, making you whine, unable to even scowl from the way his tongue kept your eyes fluttering shut; only to feel his teeth nip at your inner thigh, a silent reminder to keep them open and on the mirror.

“You’re going to watch yourself, and watch the beauty that I am blessed with, as I make you come. Do you understand me, princess?”

You nodded dumbly, giving in to his demands as you weakly rode his face, his hands moving your hips along as he groaned into your mound, nose nudging the top of your wet cunt while his tongue stroked you, delving past and into your hole, making your gasp break into a weak whine as your head lolled back. Your brain was fuzzy, and you found yourself whining his name- which only made him harder and harder while he moaned at the taste, feeling and sound of you. If fate were to have him at your feet, only to serve you, he’d happily give up his titles to do so; especially with the way you looked above him right now. Soon enough, he was pulling an orgasm from you- your voice increasing higher in pitch, cracking more and more as you grunted and whimpered between moans, your breathing uneven as you tried your best to watch yourself, or more importantly, him between your legs. His neglected cock wept with beads of pre-cum from the blissful torture of hearing you, yet not being used to please you. He could have come from your moans alone, but he held back, determined to drive his point home- as well as drive into you.

“Oh, Loki- Loki I’m- mmm- I- ah-”

“It’s alright, darling. I’m right here.”

“I’m so close- so close-”

“Come for me, princess. My beautiful, beautiful princess.”

His coo made you squeak, before crying out as your release slammed into you, warmth flooding your lower stomach and gushing out, with Loki groaning happily as you sated his hunger yet again. You watched yourself, the way your eyes were half-lidded, the way you had some sort of blissful after-glow after he pulled such an orgasm from your core. You trembled slightly, whimpering as he gently guided your legs back, helping to shuffle you until you were resting against his painfully neglected erection- flinching slightly as he hissed upon feeling the warmth of your plush thighs snug against his hips, and the warmth radiating off your needy cunt.

“There you are… there’s my girl… my beautiful girl.” 

He groaned huskily, pushing himself up to kiss you, making you mewl at the taste of yourself on his lips, on his tongue as it swirled against yours in a hedonistic display.

“Are you convinced yet, my love? Or shall I continue until you have no choice but to agree?” He was absolutely drunk off of your essence as he asked it, his hips lifting up into you lightly, rubbing himself against your wetness as he watched your eyes flutter shut for a moment to enjoy the feeling of himagainst your slit. Seeing the way he was so determined to please you, it made your mind reel; the fondness in his gaze as he watched you come, the tenderness he showered you with as he kissed you, before leaning back on his elbows, looking at you like that? It certainly made something in your brain switch.

“I…” You bit your lip, before nodding as you mustered up the courage, “I want to watch myself ride you.”

As soon as you said that, you could have sworn Loki whimpered- your eyes widening as he grabbed at your hips- pawing at you like he was some desperate concubine.

“Please- please ride me, my princess. Please, let me watch you- let me see through your eyes.” He murmured, leaning up to latch onto one of your heavy breasts, his tongue warm against your hardened nipple; the sensation making you gasp a breathy “Yes,” earning a hungry groan as he shifted, aligning himself with your entrance. You glanced down at where his mouth found purchase against your chest, his eyes on you as he pulled away, probably to kiss you, only to freeze as he felt you begin to sink down on him slowly.

You both gasped softly, before moaning together at the sensation- as if you two didn’t do this many times before- his head tilting back and his eyes screwing shut.

“Oh, my princess- my beautiful girl- Norns, you feel so good-” He growled out, hands grabbing your hips like a lifeline as he let you set the pace. Your attention, however, was focused on the mirror as you watched yourself, from the way your curves rippled with each moment of impact, to the way his hands grabbed at your soft, comforting flesh; fingers digging into the comfort of your skin for solace. Your warm, tight cunt gripped him for dear life as you rolled your body against his, hands splayed against his chest as you bounced so nicely.

The fat head of his cock found your spot easily- his sensitive tip prodding against your gummy walls over and over- eliciting gasps of his name as you watched his shaft disappear into you over and over.

“Who’s my princess?”

He cooed, his voice like velvet, making you clench more around him- to which he chuckled at- before flexing his hips up into you, helping you feel all of him as you impaled yourself on his wide cock. You could only whine at his praise, your cheeks warming as your hands flinched up to hide your face, only for his hands to catch your wrists and pull them back to his chest,

“Ah, ah. That’s not what I asked, darling. I said,” His hips bucked up into you to prove his point, the harsh, sudden thrust making you moan,

“Who’s my princess?”

Your brain was practically a gushing puddle of matter, your face the epitome of raw, unadulterated pleasure. You had stopped watching the mirror, eyes blurring as you lost yourself in the pulses of that warm, wonderful feeling he gifted you with every time the tip of him hit your spongy walls, yet you mumbled out an almost incoherent, “I am,” earning you a growl of approval and

More.

Hard.

Thrusts.

Thrusts that left you moaning and whining helplessly as you grabbed at his hands, fingers interlacing together as your body tightened again from the sensitivity of your recent orgasm, and the sensation of your wonderful body clenching around him made the God groan your name, along with curses in an old language that sent warmth thrumming for you. Your mewls joined his groans in a raw melody of love and lust; his infatuation with you seeming to grow stronger with every thrust, every beautiful, sinful noise you made.

“Tell me darling, do you like what you see?”

His voice was strained as he fucked up into you, his arms wrapping around your hips, holding you flush against him while he bucked his hips. The combined sounds of wet arousal from your cunt, and skin slapping against skin as his thighs smacked against your plush rear, made you squeak out his name, barely registering his words.

“So beautiful, my princess… My Goddess, my beautiful girl.” He grunted, his eyes glazed over with lust, yet the expression he gave you was nothing but adoration before he slowed his thrusts suddenly. You blinked, whimpering a noise of confusion before he repositioned you with careful movements, laying you across his bed and parallel to the mirror opposite, so you both could watch the scene that played out together as he slid back inside you again, hands gripping your hips as he restrained his thrusts to slow rolls, the gentle, consistent pace making you sigh, toes curling as he peppered your body with kisses.

“I should worship you properly, my darling- should fill you with my seed ‘til you give me a bunch of beautiful little heirs.” He groaned, his teeth sinking into his lower lip as he watched you, while your eyes watched the mirror, meeting his gaze for the moment to nod- the both of you like irresponsible teenagers as he humped into you desperately- your own lip caught between your teeth, eyes all wide and innocent-like, which made him growl and increase the pace of his hips.

“Do you want that, my pretty Goddess? Want me to worship you properly?” He grabbed your face, turning your head to face him as your lips caught in a searing kiss. He swallows your moans greedily, guttural noises sounding from the back of his throat as he kissed you over and over.

“Please, Loki.”

You barely recognised your voice, with how soft and whiny it was, and your body was absolutely sensitive- his thrusts sending jolts of pleasure so strong that it ruined the integrity of your muscles- your legs trembling as he cupped under your thighs, folding you over slightly and swearing as he felt your body tighten greedily, as if you were anticipating his release.

“Mm? Tell me, my darling, tell me what you need of me. How can I reward you, my princess?”

His voice had lowered huskily as he repeatedly buried himself within you. The action had you seeing stars, making you cry out for him before you pleaded weakly,

“Please, please- I want you to come-”

You pawed at his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck as best you could while you kissed him. Your pleas fell on listening ears, and the God rewarded you with a guttural groan, one specific thrust forcing out an orgasm you didn’t even know was building- the action making you all but keen for him- as your body clenched. Your mound tightened around him with the intent to milk him dry, and he finally let himself come- slamming his hips into you with a sense of finality- while he groaned your name over and over like a prayer, his forehead resting against yours as you both panted, with his cock twitching and jumping as he drained himself, every last hot rope of white painting your pretty walls. He stayed in you until he softened, as if to make real on his promise of fucking his love into you, before he collapsed beside you on the bed with a hum of content.

You had both come down from your highs together, and he had wrapped you up in his arms to pepper your face with kisses as he whispered sweet nothings and that made you giggle.

“Shall I kill that lord, for you, my love?”

“Loki.”

“It is but an innocent suggestion, my princess. Only to work in your favour.”

“Loki.”

“Alright, alright. But you must admit, I did do what I said I would, no?”

“Gods help me.”

╰┈➤ Lex's note 2: i hope you guys love this as much as i did! pls feel free to request any time!! <3 L'autunno ch:5 & 6 are definitely otw, as well as another req for (you guessed it) Loki!! hehe. thank you for reading, my loves!!

[mydearzero]

helloooo beautiful, ur recent Spence fic sent me feral - can I request a Reid x reader where they’re dating and the non bau!reader gets jealous of JJ getting to spend all this time w Spence at work and spence reassuring her it’s nothing between them. Fluff but if it got smutty then hey ;) thank you gorgeous

Hii! Thank you so much for your request! I hope you enjoy!! I was honestly feeling kinda mushy about this one so adding smut just felt out of place, sorry for that one folks

About a Girl | Spencer Reid x Reader

MASTERLIST

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: You could never be like her. You were at peace with that. So why couldn't you shake the jealous, envious feeling whenever you saw Spencer with JJ?

Contents: NO Y/N, gn!Reader, angst, hurt/comfort, jealousy, comparing yourself to others, insecurity, fluff, non-BAU!reader, bathing together.

1.8K words it's short I know

SSA Jennifer 'JJ' Jareau: Mom, profiler, and one of Spencer's best friends. You looked up to her, in a way. She was successful and respected in her field, something anybody could only wish for. Combined with her sense of humour, personality and undeniable good looks, you were jealous. 

It had taken some time for you to admit it to yourself. You liked JJ. She was a good, honest person and a great friend to your boyfriend. But you slowly felt yourself comparing yourself to her increasingly often. 

You couldn't live up to it. You weren't like JJ. Somewhere deep inside, the logical part of your brain told you that you didn't have to be. Spencer liked you for who you were. You knew it, yet you couldn't shake the envious feeling anytime her name fell in conversation. You couldn't stop the tight feeling you got in your chest whenever you saw the head of long blonde locks fall backwards in a hearty laugh directed at your boyfriend. 

Spencer knew something was wrong. How could he not? It was ingrained into his very being to read you at any given time. He wouldn't understand. You loved him, you did, but these were the types of things he just couldn't seem to grasp. You knew your feelings were irrational in theory. But that didn't mean you didn't still feel them regardless. He'd try to explain them away. 

So you didn't tell him. Refused to talk about the simmering bitterness. 

It frustrated Spencer. You could tell. He was usually able to read you like the morning paper, thrown carelessly on the lawn. He couldn't be objective in his profiling when it came to you. He knew you were on friendly terms with his best friend, so why would he ever assume that that was the problem? 

You didn't blame him, didn't blame anybody but yourself. 

It wasn't until a regular Thursday night dinner over at Rossi's that Spencer finally figured it out. The atmosphere was light, wine was flowing, and stories were being shared. Spencer laughed wholeheartedly at one of JJ's tales about Henry's late-night shenanigans. He'd caught your strange, longing gaze directed at JJ. His heart broke at the realisation, putting the pieces together at lightning speed.

You were jealous of his friendship with JJ and beating yourself up for it. He didn't know what to do about it. He could only assure you he loved you, but Spencer knew you knew that. He knew you were likely aware your worries were unwarranted. Which must only make you feel worse about the feelings you were harbouring. Spencer cursed silently at himself for not realising it earlier. 

You met his gaze, giving him a soft, genuine smile. So, the feelings weren't directed at him. It was JJ who was troubling you. He turned to her, seated next to him. You'd insisted on sitting next to Emily, claiming you needed to catch up with her. Were you punishing yourself for feeling the way you did? By making him choose to sit next to JJ? 

Spencer excused himself from the table, claiming to feel unwell. You frowned, gathering your things, saying your goodbyes and following Spencer out the door. He didn't speak as his hand met your lower back, guiding you to the passenger side of his car. He held the door as you got in. 

The ride to his apartment was silent but not necessarily unpleasant. Spencer's hand reached for yours over the console, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand in a soothing manner.

"You okay?" You asked. He'd seemed fine only minutes earlier. He nodded, squeezing your hand. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Are you?" Spencer inquired. You furrowed your brows, confused as to why he'd ask. He was the one that wanted to leave, after all. 

"Yeah? I'm fine. Why? Is that why you wanted to go? Because you thought I wasn't?" You'd been having fun exchanging stories with Emily. What had he seen that had made him immediately pack up and leave? 

"Yeah... Let's talk when we get home, okay?" He sent a quick look into your eyes, assuring you it was nothing bad. It didn't make the dread building in your stomach any less present. 

Spencer parked the car and got the door for you. He usually was a true gentleman, but he was noticeably going out of his way to ensure your comfort. 

You walked up to his door and waited for him to unlock it. He took your jacket and hung it on the rack beside his own. You took your shoes off and put them by the door, giving Spencer a peck on his cheek as he passed you into the kitchen. 

"Tea?" His voice echoed. 

"Yes, please!" You replied, plopping down on the couch and getting comfortable. Spencer was obviously not troubled by the topic he wanted to talk about, so the tension you felt in the car was slowly dissipating. 

Spencer walked carefully with the mugs in either hand. He put yours in front of you before sitting down and taking a tentative sip of his own, hissing at the heat. 

"You wanted to talk?" You urged, no longer having the patience to wait. 

"Yeah... I just noticed something tonight I should've noticed before. I don't know how to change your feelings about it, though. I know you know I love you more than anything. So, I understand you're feeling conflicted, and I'm not mad you kept it to yourself." Spencer started. He was hesitant. 

"Kept what to myself, Spence?" Your heart was beating fast, and you cursed your body for overreacting. He obviously wasn't mad or breaking up with you. 

"Your feelings about my friendship with JJ," Spencer spoke outright. Your heart dropped, and you couldn't help but feel caught. You closed your eyes and bit the inside of your cheek, turning your head away from him.

"I'm right, aren't I?" Spencer's words were quiet, but you knew there was no use hiding it from him anymore. You nodded in defeat before jumping to your own defence. 

"I know it's irrational, okay? I know I have nothing to worry about. I know JJ's just a good friend, and she's happily married to Will, and she has the kids and... And I know you'd never do anything to jeopardise our relationship, and I know you love me, but you spend so much time with her at work, and she has a key to your apartment, and I know it was just to look after your mom while she was here-" You rambled, but Spencer sushed you. 

"Hey, hey. I know. I know. There's no need to defend the way you're feeling. Sometimes, feelings can be irrational, and I do spend a lot of time with her. I know that you know, okay? That doesn't make the way that you're feeling any less valid," Spencer assured you. 

"I'm so sorry, Spencer. I just- I can't stop it once I start. She's amazing, Spence. And I know you'll say I am, as well. But it's not the same. It'll never be the same. I can't give you what she does." 

"And I'm not asking you to. I'm in a relationship with you. She's one of my best friends. Those dynamics offer different things, and I'm okay with that. If you want me to change my dynamic with JJ, I'll work on it. Just tell me what you need, please," Spencer begged. 

A singular tear escaped your eye, rolling down your cheek. You wanted to scoff at it. You'd kept it in for so long. You weren't even sure where the bitterness came from nor where it was truly directed. 

"I guess I just need the external validation. I know you love me, and I feel it. My head knows you wouldn't let anything get between us. It's just my heart that won't cooperate." Spencer tugged you to his chest, putting a hand in your hair and stroking softly. 

"There's no need to apologise. You can't force your body to change how you're feeling, unfortunately. If it was that straightforward, my job would be a whole lot easier, too." Spencer laughed. 

A short laugh escaped through your tears. "I know, Spence. I just wish I could shut it off. JJ's a wonderful person. She doesn't deserve this." 

"And neither do you. And if it's gonna take some extra effort from me to make your body catch up with your head, I'll gladly put it in. Come on," Spencer got up, taking your hand in his. You trailed behind him as he stalked to the bathroom. He turned the faucet on, waiting for it to get warm before letting the water fill the bathtub. He put a generous amount of aromatic soap into it, letting it bubble. 

"Wait here," he urged. 

You stared at the grout between the tiles, following the paths it created as you waited for Spencer to return. The sound of the water plummeting into the tub covered any conspicuous noises coming from whatever he was doing. Steam was slowly forming around you, the bathroom filling with the lavender scent of Spencer's favourite soap. 

He quickly returned, arms filled with all sorts of products. Candles, snacks, a book and some comfy clothes. 

"Why're you still dressed?" He questioned, positioning the candles around the tub and bathroom. 

"You said to wait!" You shrugged. 

"Well, get on with it!" Spencer laughed, encouraging you to undress. 

"Gee, Reid. Someone might almost think you want to see me naked." You winked, tugging your top over your head. 

"Oh, I always want to see you naked, but that's not what tonight is about," Spencer assured. He lit a few candles, their light making the bathroom less clinical-looking in an instant. 

You remained in your underwear, assuming Spencer would be joining you after his frantic preparations. When he finally had everything arranged how he wanted it, he undressed. You took off your underwear and let him help you into the bath, careful to avoid any candles. He got in behind you, pulling you backwards to settle against his chest. 

"I love you," Spencer declared, taking some soap and rubbing your back. The great thing about having a boyfriend with an eidetic memory is that he could remember many massage techniques intended for relaxation. You unwound under his gentle touch. 

You stayed in the water until both of you were pruned up. Spencer had read to you, fed you snacks, massaged every part of your body he could think of and made sure you felt loved. 

Sure, you weren't like JJ. But she wasn't like you, either. And that was okay. It wouldn't make Spencer love you any less, nor her any more. 

[onyourowndaisymae]

Yoo I have two request which I’ll send the other one separately but I am in an ANGSTY mood rn sooo yah also been binging ur headcanons and stuffs and I just love the way you write ?? It’s so entertaining lol

AnywY the actual request: can you write like a one shot or headcanons if you prefer of mc who is struggling after the belphie incident ?? Like they feel like they’ve mostly forgiven him and can act normally around him and they’re friends and take naps together but sometimes the flash back just HITS THEM and they have nightmares and panic attacks that can be so bad sometimes someone needs to get Simeon to calm them down. Maybe something of how the brothers react/treat mc and belphie? Idk I’m just thirsting for like MEGA ANGST rn bc my dad made me cry little bit lmao 😭

it comes at night

hello anon! i'm terribly sorry you're in such an angsty mood, though i thank you for all the love-- and for sending this request right as these ideas were on the front of my mind. it genuinely makes me so happy to see people enjoying my work, and it makes all the writer's block and such worth it. i cannot express enough how much i love seeing all the comments, reblogs, etc. as people engage with my work.

anyways. i'm not sure how i feel about this piece, especially with how LONG it ended up being, but maybe that's just my mushy brain talking after looking at it too long. regardless-- i hope you enjoy (well, y'know, in like a sad and angsty way).

synopsis: you thought you would be able to move on like all the others. your body was healed, your anxiety tucked neatly behind a mental wall built to keep you safe. yet something in you was stuck. you couldn't just move on. you were trapped in a battle between your friendship with belphegor and the fear gnawing at your brain as you remembered what exactly he did to you. when the dam finally breaks, your whole brain floods with terror, until you're swept away with it. nobody can save you now.

genre: angst, no happy end, just a big ol spoonful of sadness

word count: ~3.1k

content warnings: chapter 16 spoilers, graphic(?) discussions of death, depictions of panic attacks, nightmares, mc progressively getting worse from fear + lack of sleep

it's funny how time works. 

you'd been around your fair share of years. you’d grown, you’d changed, you’d spent your entire life looking toward the future you had planned. then you, a mere human, were yanked into an unfamiliar world. you spent an entire year in the devildom– a year that simultaneously dragged on and flew by– and came out the other side a new person. a single year in the devildom has changed you more than the human realm has your entire life. time was a mischievous thing, always leaving you chasing behind in a fruitless pursuit of something you’ll never quite understand.

but, she also brings blessings with her. they say that time heals all wounds. you've always agreed with that sentiment. scraped knees and adolescent broken hearts are swept away with the passing days, trailing further and further behind you until one day you forget to look back and remember them. the pain scribbled down on diary pages or cried into pillow cases no longer stings like a fresh burn. these things are nothing but scars now. time has a special way of patching you up, of rubbing your back until the tears clear up and you can finally see again. that is how it's always been. 

where is time when you need it? 

she hasn't quite abandoned you, this much is true. cuts and bruises heal over the passing days. your hair and nails still grow. your body still changes, slowly but surely, marching onwards week after week. yet your mind is trapped in stasis. you struggle to break free, but at times the rot consumes you whole, until you’re crying under the covers and begging from respite from the memories. 

on the worst nights, you find yourself in the attic again, watching the door between you and belphegor swing open. you watch yourself march towards death.

you can still feel his hands around your neck, digging his claws into your fragile human skin like you're made of sand. the scent of blood-- your own blood, on the floors, on the walls, leaking from your torso and staining your clothes a permanent maroon-- still clings to the inside of your nose. even your wildest dreams could not erase the sight of his smug grin, the way his eyes lit up looking at your battered body.

no one person should have to carry the weight of realizing they're going to die. that's what you thought about when your body hit the bottom of the stairs, when belphegor tossed you down from the attic with a harsh laugh and punted your limp body into the entrance hall. you thought about how unfair this all was. you were just trying to help. you thought you were doing the right thing.

one of the worst parts of your untimely demise was watching the others react. the voices pool together in your head, like the colors of the rainbow twisting together on the surface of an oil spill. asmo's panicked shriek blends into satan's angry shouts, desperate to understand what's going on. lucifer's yelling almost drowns out the fearful cries coming from levi, held back by a very silent beel. 

but above all of that, you remember mammon. your first man, the first demon who took a chance on the defenseless little human, rushing to your side and gathering you in his arms like you were about to break. his hand on the side of your face, the tears streaming down his face, the shaky, desperate voice assuring you that you'll be okay and begging you to hang on, okay? please don't leave me. you can't remember if he was shaking or if it was your body's last ditch effort to stay conscious-- maybe both. your trembling fingers intertwined with his. words came out of your mouth, and you're not sure what exactly you said, but he only cried harder in response. 

and then, as your eyes shut for the final time, you woke at the bottom of the attic stairs. you had cheated death. 

your price? you had to carry the memories. 

the world kept spinning. days passed in the devildom. you returned to school, kept on top of your homework, spent your days in the house of lamentation alongside the seven demon brothers. you even got to know belphegor as he navigated his return home. he quickly grew fond of you. that, in and of itself, was jarring. but you returned each and every smile with one of your own. his actions were rooted in his own grief for his sister, you knew, and for that you could not fault him. you helped him repair the severed relationships between him and his elder siblings, stitching the family back together like a prized quilt until the seams of betrayal were sufficiently hidden. 

time is a traitorous bitch. why did she choose now to leave your wounds bare and bleeding?

everyone moved on but you. everyone got to wake up in the mornings without a nagging anxiety holding them back. the others could hang out with belphegor day in and day out without a growing feeling of dread popping up when you think you're safe. 

he killed you. he was grieving. your blood drenched the entryway floors as he laughed. he has grown. you watched the light leave mammon's eyes as you slipped away. belphie has been nothing but kind to you since that day. you fucking died. 

you wish your mind could pick a side. did you forgive him, or did you resent him? was he your friend, or your killer? these answers evaded you in the dead of night as you struggled to sleep again. it was becoming more common for you to lose hours of rest to these nagging fears. who are you? are you even you anymore? did the switch in timelines scatter your atoms across countless universes, leaving the you that looks back at you in the mirror nothing more than a hollow shell? 

you thought that you could keep your mind on a tight leash, keep your cards close to your chest as you continued to live with the brothers. you were wrong.

the first meltdown came during a nap with belphie. you had grown to trust him-- you thought you trusted him-- enough to sleep around him. he'd coax you every so often into an afternoon nap. always in the light of day, always your choice. and for many afternoons, you were perfectly content with this arrangement. belphie was warm and cuddly, a perfect companion for a lazy afternoon. he had this way of making you feel safe as you slept-- the nightmares couldn't come when he was snuggled up next to you, when you were sure his actions were ones of affection and not another trick to gain your trust.

one afternoon, while the sun was beginning to set, you stirred under the warmth of the blankets. the body next to yours lingered close, steady breaths lulling you back to dreamland. you could stay like this forever, you thought.

and then you felt it. the gentle graze of a familiar cow tail against your skin.

something inside of you, a dam you didn't even know was there, snapped. a hot flash of panic rose up your throat as your whole body jerked away from the feeling. your eyes shot open and you found yourself in the last place you needed to be right now: the attic. you pulled yourself out of bed before your brain could catch up. colors flashed across your vision as a consequence. you whipped around, disoriented and upset, and spotted a sleeping belphie in the bed where you once were.

a sleeping, demon belphie.

the familiar curve of his horns made your throat spasm as you tried to breathe. the colors flashed in your vision again-- oh god, what a terrible time to be left defenseless-- as your brain tried to drag you back to that day. you could practically see his face shift from relief to malicious, insidious joy as he began to attack you.

"hehe... does it hurt? finding it hard to breathe? i'm sure it must be very unpleasant."

please. please no.

" i have to say, seeing a human face twisted in pain like this... why, it's so much fun that i can barely stand it! i... i can't contain the laughter!"

you weren't quite sure when you hit the ground, but it was loud enough to wake belphegor from his slumber. he peeled his body off the mattress, slow and dazed, as he looked for you.

"mc? what're you... what's going on?"

please don't. this can't be happening.

your lungs collapsed from the weight of your own panic. you gasped-- once, twice, as your vision went in and out. were you bleeding? your hand loosely brushed at the front of your clothes, but couldn't process whether that was blood or your vivid imagination. were you even breathing? your head felt light and heavy at the same time. the wires in your brain were all crossed, sending both resuscitation and shutdown signals to each part of your body. this feeling... this was too familiar.

were you dying?

"mc, what's going on?"

you came face to face with belphegor. your friend, your killer. the demon who had lured you up to this very attic to kill you, now gripping your shoulders as interrogated you inches from your face.

you screamed. you screamed until your brain shut off completely, leaving you in an inky pit of darkness as your consciousness slipped away.

the house was in disarray for several days. apparently, lucifer came in shortly after you passed out, mammon at his heels, to save the day. you woke up later in his bed, the room cold and empty, with a throbbing head and a tear stained pillow. you stumbled out into his office to find him at his desk, lost in some paperwork like always. the solemn look he gave you as your eyes met told you everything you needed to know.

from this day forth, your fear was now your constant companion.

nobody in the house of lamentation knew how to move forward. not you, not the brothers, not the widening gap growing between you all with each passing day spent in emotional limbo. finally, lucifer called everyone to a family meeting where, over the course of an hour or two, everyone came to an agreement to acknowledge what had happened and why, promised to be mindful of this trauma that you're carrying, and move forward like you requested.

silent days slowly but surely filled back up with laughter again. the brothers came back to your side at their own pace-- asmo first, within a matter of hours, then mammon shortly after, then the others in the following days.

belphegor was the last to come around. his silence spoke volumes about his guilt. he had no clue how to comfort you. he'd do anything to repent for his actions. yet that was the way that life worked, didn't it? some actions simply cannot be undone.

but you didn't let that stop you. despite the panic that closed your throat every time you saw him for the next month, you slowly earned his friendship again. you assured him that the attic incident was a one time thing, the remnants of a lost nightmare blending into your consciousness as you awoke.

until it wasn't a one time thing.

the nightmares crept up on you. the first one happened, of course, that same night, as you thrashed and wept into lucifer's pillows. then a week later, another. a week and a half after that, another. the frequency eventually became higher and higher, until you started planning your sleep schedule (or lack thereof) around your new insomniac tendencies. but even you couldn't manage to stay awake forever.

on a bad night, you'd wake up in tears, crying weakly to yourself as you tried to coax yourself back to bed. on worse nights, you'd shoot up out of bed, limbs tingling in fear, opting to spend the rest of the night in the common room until the others woke for the day. on the worst night, you finally broke. you shattered worse than you could have imagined.

you finally collapsed into bed, body shutting down after a three days of minimal sleep. you were starting to get shaky from the lack of rest, and your lack of appetite was upsetting the others. you crawled under the covers and let your brain slip out of your hands and off to dreamland.

what a fool you were to think you'd get by without nightmares.

visions of demonic teeth tearing at your flesh filled your head. you tried to run away, tried desperately to wake yourself up, but their claws sunk into your flesh. the pain was vivid, was real. memories of your death lived underneath your skin, ready to resurface in the dark of night when there was no escape. you fought back as best you could, kicking and screaming and trying to run, but you were no match for the supernatural strength of your demons. you eventually gave in, an act of learned helplessness, and surrendered yourself to your worst nightmares.

you woke up choking on your own tears. heaving, gasping breaths tried to save you, mixing with coughs as your body struggled to hang on. the tears finally gave way to the memories-- hot blood dripping from your torso, screaming faces begging you to stay, your head going fuzzy as your vision followed--and your screams escaped without a fight.

a mixed cacophony of voices came flooding in the room. you'd be touched by the gesture, seeking comfort in the arms of your dearest friends, if your brain hadn't reminded you that they were demons as well. nightmarish beasts with fangs and claws, predators built to rip your soft flesh from your bones and leave you to die like roadkill.

you felt a hand on your shoulder. who's was it? you could not tell. your first and only instinct was to scream for mercy, hot tears streaming down your face as mammon's hurt expression moved back out of your line of sight. your chest heaved with effort. it felt like your whole body was caving in on itself. you didn't even realize you were shaking as you curled your body into a ball. your side hit the mattress with a pathetic thud and you wept, bitter and fearful, as a panic attack kept you trapped in its grip.

you don't know how long you stayed curled up like that, wordless cries echoing from your room and into the hallway, but eventually the sound of approaching footsteps caught enough of your attention to forget the panic, even if just for a moment.

"hey, it's okay," a familiar, comforting voice approached, cutting through the fear like a moonlight on a stormy night. "mc, it's me, it's simeon. it's going to be okay."

you felt the bed shift under the weight of someone sitting down, and you blindly threw your body at the person before checking to see if it was really him. it took you a few moments to raise your head, and when you did, you saw him: simeon, your angel, blue eyes full of worry as he met your gaze.

you cried in his arms until you fell into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

the next morning was miserable, to say the least. breakfast was tense. they all watched you like a hawk, like you were a powder keg about to explode with one wrong move. you couldn't blame them. you were afraid of your own emotions, and on some level, you were afraid of them. your trauma was making you afraid of the very people you cared about the most. these brothers had welcomed you into their home, took care of you as you adjusted to life in the devildom, and yet you couldn't hold eye contact without breaking in to a cold sweat.

the only person who did not watch you was belphegor. he was nowhere to be found during breakfast, nor dinner, nor breakfast the following day. you tried to seek him out, but somehow the avatar of sloth had become a skilled sneak in his silence.

you finally caught him alone on day four of radio silence. you both had stayed home without realizing the other had also skipped school that day-- you, from the lack of sleep eating at your brain, and belphegor, with his usual routine of missing class to nap at the house of lamentation. he was curled up on the couch in the common room, basking in the warmth of the fireplace in his slumber. you decided to wait for him to wake up. you sat down on the couch opposite of the one where he rested and watched him, quietly, like he'd disappear if you dared to blink.

creepy? yes. but your brain was long ruined by sleep deprivation and gnawing anxiety to worry about such trivial things.

when he finally stirred, you gently called belphegor's name. he took a moment to finally look at the source of the voice, but when he did, his body froze as the two of you made eye contact. a few moments passed in silence. finally, he sat up and began to make a move to leave.

"wait."

he stopped, but his gaze did not meet yours. you rose from your seat and joined him on the couch. the youngest pulled his legs in, twisting his body into a defensive little ball, and countered your next sentence before you could even open your mouth.

"you shouldn't be here with me."

"i think i'm old enough to make decisions for myself."

he shifted uncomfortably in the silence. you spoke again.

"i miss you. and i'm sorry."

he scoffed to himself and stared at the fireplace. "don't know why you think you should be apologizing to me. i'm the one that's the problem."

"you're not a problem, belphie. i never meant to make you feel like one."

every hair on your body stood on end. your hands trembled against your wishes, so you sat on them to stay focused. you had to do this. you had to keep moving forward.

"i hurt you, mc. you're afraid i'm going to do it again."

you sighed-- it came out more shaky than you would have liked-- and looked down. how had it come to this? how had someone you'd grown to hold so dear become a stranger again?

"i don't want to stop being friends. i don't like when you avoid me."

"you still get nightmares, don't you?"

you pause. his icy gaze on the side of your head sent you into a cold sweat.

you smiled-- it felt more like a grimace, personally-- and prayed it didn't come across insincere. your fingers carefully intertwined with his. he met your gaze. you were thankful he couldn't see the way your chest tightened when you made eye contact. 

"i'm okay, belphie," you lied. 

this fear was going to be the death of you. 

[hcuyk]

3.30am, eric or any other tbz members. i’d appreciate it if u could write a piece based on joji glimpse of us :) i luv ur writing btw!

[3:30AM]

Eric had done everything in his power to get over you.

Out of the many relationships he had been in, nothing compared to what he had with you. The hopeless romantic side of himself had always dreamed of having an unconditional love in his life, but until he met you, he would often shrug it off with partying until the sun rose and running off at night to do stupid things on the railroad tracks with his friends.

It was the way he lived and the life he attempted to return to when you broke up with him.

Ever since then, with his weak attempts to hook up with strangers and drink until all his thoughts were rid of you, his close friends would barge into his room each morning at 4, drilling him to wake up and jog around campus shirtless. The exercise was nothing to him, not when he had always actively visited the gym, but each morning he dreaded it.

Because with every passing day at 3 A.M., he would wake up, unable to fall back asleep, and get lost in his thoughts as he eyed the popcorn ceiling above him. His nightlight would tint the ceiling and the walls around him your favorite color, and he would wonder about your whereabouts and if you were doing better without him. Everywhere Eric looked—it was always you.

He couldn’t fathom dreaming of being with another person because, regardless of how attractive or charismatic they were, he would always get caught up staring into their eyes and catching a glimpse of hope, something your eyes once held.

Throughout your last few months of dating, he watched that light dissipate into utter darkness, one that he couldn’t go through and pull you out of—to make you believe that he was the one for you, the one who would watch you grow into your greatest self and he’d love you more with every day that passed.

But instead of being able to enjoy each day with you, he was left to witness how your actions have morphed into ones of a stranger. He watched you give up on their relationship, and nothing hurt him more than knowing he lost someone he loved for so long.

He wished that if you were capable of holding onto that hope, that spark and newfound love and drive to fight for your relationship, then maybe you two would’ve lasted. Maybe he would’ve been able to see you thrive in your dream career field while he pursued his, and you two would be each other’s number one supporters. The ‘what ifs’ plagued him day by day, always wondering that maybe if he had done something different, you two would still be together. He wished that regardless of what lifetime you two shared together, he wanted this one to be with you.

He wanted to do everything with you.

Eric jolted to the sound of his roommate moving in his bed across the room. He didn’t think much of it aside from Juyeon having a bad dream, but that was until his roommate had actually gotten up onto his two feet to change. Eric scrambled to find his phone on the bed and checked his phone for the time, confirming that there still was another thirty minutes until their daily jog. Before he could process what Juyeon was doing, his roommate had spoken up before him.

“You’re awake early.”

Eric squinted at him, puzzled at Juyeon’s sudden need for a conversation this early in the morning.

“I always am.” Eric turned in his bed to lie on his side. He watched as his friend removed his shirt and replaced it with a tank top. “Why are you up?”

“C’mon, dude. I can hear your thoughts from here.”

The two stared at each other in silence, and Juyeon stood with his feet stapled to the ground, refusing to move. His arms were crossed, and he was ready to get Eric out of bed. When Eric didn’t move, Juyeon cocked a brow at him.

“Am I wrong?”

The slight tension they had between them had disappeared when Eric mumbled ‘no’. Juyeon pursued his lips and held back a sigh, replacing it with a slight shake of his head in disapproval. Eric caught this and parted his lips to explain, to explain how much it hurt, but Juyeon interrupted him with a look of understanding because he knew.

Eric would always talk about you endlessly, and to have that ripped away from him was a pain Juyeon has yet to experience. He always believed you and Eric were endgame too.

“I miss them,” Eric whispered, his voice strangled as he desperately looked at his friend for any sort of mental assistance. He was prepared to be called stupid, to say that he shouldn’t be thinking about you after a month of adjusting without you and to move on, but Juyeon did none of that. Instead, he stared elsewhere, his heart empathizing with how much his friend was still in love.

“I know.” Juyeon kept his tone gentle, and with a forced tug of his lips, he wore a warm smile and approached Eric to pat him, comforting him as best as he could.

“I really do miss them.”

Juyeon watched as Eric curled up under the comforter, hugging his legs close to his chest, as he grew smaller in his bed. He took notice of how Eric buried his lower half of his face under, physically shielding how vulnerable he was, but Juyeon knew Eric better than most. He patted him again, gently.

“C’mon, buddy. Let’s jog.”

permanent taglist . . . @the-cereal-simp @armysantiny @stealanity @zzoguri @nyujjan @tinisprout

author's note // picking up requests from like two years ago because it's about damn time 🧍‍♂️ thank you for sending this in! it's not really true to the song, but i tried to implement it as much as i could!! thank you so much for supporting me :] ^^ also the last time i posted smth for eric he was on a hiatus??? ??? ??? ?? HAS IT BEEN THAT LONG????

[joodles98]

what are ur headcanons for nessa ....

omg ☺️

i dont think she intended to become a model. she started getting gigs and brand collabs offered to her immediately after her gym challenge run bc of her looks and style and making it all the way to the semifinals. (i believe she became a gym leader around the same time rai did, like late teens close to early 20s) she decided to pursue it to keep her name out there, and as an opportunity to talk about her connection with water pokemon and passion about battling

she met wallace once through one of her modeling gigs and shes a bit intrigued about trying a contest, sometime. mayhaps as an encore career after retiring from the galar league

she did gymnastics and dance as a kid

her partner was a little chewtle she befriended collecting sea shells when she was small. i love how most of her pokemon look tough n armored

feels pretty obvious she grew up in hulbury. tight knit working class fam of Fisher Trainer Class pokepeople. her aunt and uncle run a seafood restaurant. her grandpa was a lightkeeper of the lighthouse and would let her come up to the top sometimes when she was little n its been her favorite place ever since. (such a missed opportunity the game doesnt let u go inside) she adores her fam and they support her interests in fashion and also her big battling ambitions. when the gym leadership became vacant of course she auditioned. i think her town is so proud of her/a reflection of who she really is (hardworking, somewhat stoic, truly breathtaking, unpredictable like the force n restraint of the ocean tides)

she met sonia early in the challenge (i hc that sonia decided not to travel with leon. but we are talking about ness 2day). they both were two lonely girls sitting on opposite ends in the back of the train trying to look stoic and tough and occupied and also gasp thats another challenger that makes us competition. until yamper couldnt contain his curiosity about the chewtle across from him n jumped from sonia's arms. ness assumed who is this girl trying to battle right now 🤨 and sonia apologizes that shes not its just that yamper seems curious about u. actually i do too. ...N then the rest of the ride turns into the biggest yap session + theyve been inseparable since.

i think she teaches sonia a lot about pride + finding your way. while sonia teacher her remembering who you are (like we see in twilight wings). i think sonia is so embarassed at first to be recognized as a Magnolia but then when they get to hulbury n she sees how unique nessa is in her hometown but shes loved regardless it makes her brain chemistry explode.

shes really close with raihan, tho they didnt start becoming friends until after they became gym leaders. turns out they have more in common than they thought when they met as little challengers. (she thought rai was a massive dork with his dragons and history books. still does a lil bit 💝). they indulge eachothers habit of talking league gossip. also rai seeks her advice on his own drama(leon pining) and she eats it up. when shes doubting an outfit for an interview he hypes her up. (since theres a lot of Nepotism within galar gyms, the fact that rai and ness earned gym leaderships on their own is smth they relate over too) its nice to have a friendly face in the league when the pressure is up.

i think abt her twilight wings episode a lot. i like to think she won the match in the end, then called sonia (who ofc was watching it televised back in wedgehurst) just to say how much her words empowered her. n maybe tell her other things 💙

literally its such a lovely episode. lowkey sobbed a bit the first time i saw it. the little pieces of ourselves we carry

also. with the way rose interrogated not only her confidence but her competence, how could she not trust the smile leon wears in his matches after that? if thats how the chairman could talk to a gym leader then what the hell does the champ put up with. deeply unsettling. i think she is skeptical but not in the Detective Way rai is in everything happening pre-darkest day. she is the type to be focused on whats in front of her right now: be a great gym leader, a tough opponent, a role model, yk

despite that, tho, i think what fuels her wanting to beat leon is some resentment, knowing the void he left in sonia and how he either seems oblivious about it or minimizing of it. (also at first she thought sonia was hurt by it bc she had a crush on him. which later ness finds out isn't true). shes also a bit of the jealous type but thats ok so am i

i think she begins to finally consider leon a friend again when he's chairman and has worked out everything that happened between him and sonia. it's also a lot easier to approach him with league matters than it ever was with rose

she still considers milo her biggest rival, though hes a sweet friend. hes a sweetie to everyone. i think it was his idea to gather ness and kabu to send off trainers who defeat them

thats all i can think of rn 💐

[sungbeam]

spread some love !

talk about your favourite mutuals and why you like them

hi anon! thanks for sending this in :') im always so bad at posting these things, but i can def do this one. i don't know if i would classify them specifically as favorites, but more so people i've interacted with the most 😭

@justalildumpling : i don't even need to go on besides saying that this woman is my soulmate. "in another life" but we're gonna beat the universe and meet in every life, type of connection. the girl who has seen me at my worst and has still treated me with as much kindness and compassion and care as she did the first time. i feel like in certain ways, we're kind of polar opposites, but also the same? i mean, on paper we can be so different, but when we talk abt what we like and dislike, when we laugh together, it all becomes something of the same and she restores my faith in other people again. she's the person who constantly makes me want to be a better person.

@ethereal-engene : one of my two beloved 姐姐's on this site skfnrknf but i remember talking to ash so many nights abt just any and everything. i am so happy that we're comfortable enough to be able to joke around, share our niche interests, have deep conversations, and even pen pal!! like i think it's crazy how SIMILAR our families are; we could legitimately be long lost sisters haha but also the blood of the covenant runs thicker than the water of the womb sometimes, so that makes sense. she's one of my comfort people, and honestly, i feel like we both come out of nowhere with some topics, but either person will hop right into the convo regardless and just vibe 🤧

@winterchimez : my second 姐姐 on this site !! my older sisters def take care of me well and i am so grateful for that :')) ally is always so supportive and yet so energergizing to talk to. she's def seen a lot of my brainstorming and i feel very comfortable bouncing ideas off her. she's always so generous with me too, like care packages??? RAH 😭 obviously, i love her for reasons besides the material goods, but it's a love language nonetheless. ally is prob one of the warmest and most welcoming presences on this hellsite tbh, so if ur ever looking for a new friend/mutual, she's the best.

@loveliestfelix : nana is another reason why im still around. i like to thank that beomgyu drabble every day for kickstarting our friendship because i have never met someone i have had such lengthy and fun brainstorming sessions with. nana is the type of person i would love to meet irl and just share stories over coffee with, though i feel like i always associate her with train rides and coffee now HAHA she's also one of my greatest writing inspirations, like i was and have always been blown away by her mind, and her word counts. i love calling her the queen of angst, and you will never be disappointed when reading something of hers.

@jaehunnyy : chip's been here for a really long time, like guys, no one can compete when she's been here since i had park jisung as my pfp and she had jeno as hers 😭 i think i really treasure our friendship and how much it's grown over the past two years :')) so much has happened over that time, and i think that if i met her in real life, i would just be blown away by how pretty she is like TT anyways,, i always love talking to her because of how much chaotic energy we create when we do, like i feel like we can power an entire city grid with how much chaos we make, and it's all the better for it. i love her very much, and i hope she understands just how wonderful of a person and friend she is.

@mosviqu : oh, my beloved bar, i love u to bits and pieces. i think recently you've become one of the few reasons why im still here writing and posting. like i am so utterly, from the bottom of my heart, grateful for all of your support and the love you've given and shown me. and even when we moved to dms to converse, i just realized how cool you are as a person, and how similar we are (in the best way possible). it's really nice to be able to connect with a person on multiple levels, and im really happy that was the case with us :') as soon as i saw ur love for tomorrow by chanyeol, i knew there would be something more to our friendship. i am so very fond of you, and your writing blows me away every time i read it.

@zzoguri : moni :( i hope ur doing well, friend, and i know you haven't been active here lately but i do wish you all the best. i love how passionate and committed you are to improving in writing and developing your own creative writing style, and it's so impressive to read your writing in general :') i love the confidence you advocate for yourself, and how real you are. thanks so much for being a friend; i just really appreciate all the support and hype you've given me during my time on deobiblr, like thank you for being such a thoughtful person.

@wuahae : cat and i have definitely interacted more off this site than on this site, but i felt that it was dire she was included here nonetheless. like bro, thank you for literally being the reason i come out of my apartment (or in most cases, invite people to my apartment), and for thinking of me! i think i once told you how hard it is to find friends in college, but you've made my experience here far less lonely. i love getting dinner with you, planning outings, and making weird animal noises together on the streets 😭 also, cat's writing is literally so poetic, and just her explaining to me her plot ideas tears visceral reactions out of me TT

@yunhoszn : i feel like me and fawn are low-key on the same wavelength a lot of the times, but in general, i think fawn's just such a rad person. i've told her once or twice before but i genuinely love her writing style because it has so much personality in it. it just makes reading her fics such a fun and enjoyable experience. also even off this site, i have so much fun interacting with her, like just commenting on her instagram posts like the gremlin i am, i know she's gonna hit me with the best response back skfnkejd (waiting for the day i go to where u r so u can do my makeup low-key... ur so fly, pls do my makeup...)

@goldenhypen : em, my lovely twin :')) i know our interactions have def decreased, but i don't think that's decreased the fondness we hold for one another. i remember when em first started interacting with my works and then followed me, i literally rolled off the couch cuz i started fangirling 😭 and she is one of the most genuine and brightest presences here. she is a follow forever, bro, you better follow her forever. i just adore her compassion for others and her absolutely adorable fic concepts, and omg don't even get me started on her work ethic 😭 i wished u the best everyday you had requests, i don't know how u did it. you are literally superhuman.

@hqrana : i haven't spoken with noa in quite awhile, but im guessing it's cuz she's girlbossing her way through to that nursing program 🤧 my favorite woman in stem girl in this hellsite, she is my beloved xnonie 😭 i think i just appreciate noa's undeniable presence and character so much, like she brings so much energy to my inbox whenever she's here, and her support of my ideas and fics just makes me 🙇🏻‍♀️ like thank you for being here. and to know we both love marvel and taylor swift? i feel like she has to be like,, my best friend? like she needs to be my best friend?? sending hugs and well wishes your way, always.

[rosekasa]

Hello! I am a beginner artist and I love ur art!! Super pretty and the colors are very tasty. Do you have some tips? I'd love to see your art process!

HELLO ANON!! first of all i am very honoured that u would ask me this because 90% of the time i feel like i have no idea what i am doing and like im still a beginner artist myself DSDSJDF. i would love to share some stuff i learnt and some stuff about my process (regardless of how messy it is sdfhsj)

(final piece)

here's an old example of my process i found! while the steps sometimes look different for other pieces, i feel like this is a good demonstration of how the basic structure looks.

1. the sketch - this is where i'm mainly figuring out how i want the piece to look. i was redrawing a screenshot for this piece so it looks a LOT neater than what a lot of my other sketches look like, for example, here's the process of me figuring out my recent drawing of haise:

(final piece)

in the first two steps, i was mainly working with showing myself what the piece was going to be. the last one was where i used references/technical knowledge to try and show whoever will be looking at it what the piece was

2. cleaning up the sketch + base colours. these two usually occur simultaneously because i will get bored cleaning up the sketch midway through and want to start adding colour LMAO. on a more practical note, sometimes putting down the base colours and having a better idea of what the finished product will look like might make it easier to refine things.

a note: cleaning up for me doesn't mean doing lineart. it mostly means erasing any overly messy lines on the sketch and redrawing small parts to make it look tidier where needed. i often leave it 'messy' at this stage, too. like here:

(final piece)

3. light/shadow. this is my FAVOURITE part because it's where the piece starts pulling together. the method i used in the current piece was putting a multiply layer over the colours folder and filling in where light would be obstructed. after that, i used a luminosity layer to put in some bright sunlight. marc brunet has a great way of explaining it by advising to pretend that the light is the camera and you're behind the lens. this is such a good way to block in average light/shadow values! sometimes this looks a bit crazy because everything is still so messy but that is why we have...

4. rendering. this is where i fit all the remaining pieces of the puzzle together. i'll refine the colours a bit more -- e.g. colouring in the eyes, -- and fiddle a bit with the shadows to add some more variation to the hues/value. this is where i think a lot about light and shadow theory and try and make it look more realistic. marco bucci saved my LIFE with his videos about ambient occlusion and ambient light (part 1 / part 2) -- essentially, what i keep in mind the most is that if a plane in shadow is facing the sky (or is open to any other form of light that isn't the direct light source) it will contain ambient light. it is SUCH a game changer when you add it to your pieces, trust me, even if youre lazy about it. if needed i'll pull up some references to make everything look good!

5. rendering... part 2? honestly this step kind of blends with the last one as i tend to do it simultaneously. i basically clean up all the messy lines from before by painting over them! with the majority of the colours i need put down, i can just eyedrop them and paint over anything that's needed. this also comes in with the light/shadow, where, if i need a more subtle hue for either/or, i will eyedrop it and brush it in.

some further notes:

i very rarely use references during the first stages of my sketch. i think it tends to look quite stiff and unnatural if i rely too hard on the. and i personally prefer the creative room when the idea is still being conceived. references come in when i can look at what i have down on the canvas and have a fairly decent idea of what i want, including pose, composition, etc. it's essentially a first draft to guide me to where i want to go with the piece. it's when i'm done with this that i bring out references, and even then, they don't necessarily have to be the exact pose -- i'll usually get a couple of pics which show what i need to double check and keep them up as a guide. by the end of the 'sketch', i usually have a basic construction of what i need to continue, even if it's messy.

i use very soft brushes when putting down colour because it allows for more hue variation. like i said, i enjoy eyedropping and brushing in colours afterwards, so this really helps!

layer modes are ur friend! i try not to rely on them too hard during rendering because i like the freedom of painting over but they're very useful when you're blocking in your initial colours

sometimes, when i feel like i want to try something new with my art, i'll keep pieces that inspire me up in front of me. i have two of sui ishida's art books and sometimes i'll just flick to a page that oils the Art Gears in my brain and keep it open while i draw. i don't necessarily reference it, but i like having it there so i can glance over every once in a while. i don't usually make a conscious choice where i'm like "ok i want to render skin the way he does" but it's more like. my brain knows what it likes in his art and it'll try and push that part of my art in a similar direction.

honestly the best advice i have is that art is very much based on vibes. everytime i've tried to think too much about it, to do things 'correctly', to rigidly stick to art theory, my art has not come out nicely. i think the technical parts of art are important to know and understand but i also think it's important to let your knowledge come through naturally when it is needed instead of pressuring yourself to do things 'right'. tbh you probably already know that but it's something i forget a lot so maybe it serves as a helpful reminder?? sedsfhsl

ANYWAY SORRY THIS WAS SO LONG! i hope i covered what you needed and if you need anything else/want me to expand on anything feel free to drop me another ask ! <3

make sure to look after yourself and trust yourself and ENJOY!!! art is about having fun!

[xerith-42]

yo yo could i perhaps have a crumb of your rewritten storyline for s2 ep 95? luv ur stuff

I always love people describing art in a fandom as crumbs. Makes me think I'm sitting on a park bench throwing out crumbs and bird feed to the local crows but instead of food I'm just tossing out pieces of paper with my inane ramblings about block people on them.

This is a segment of my rewrite of Season 2 Episode 95, titled Fool of a Muse. Said rewrite is the one with my oc Haven in it, so she's there because she's one of Laurance's emotional pillars, and I change Aph's name to Irena because I like fucking with her. I actually re-rewrote this scene a few weeks back to include some of the original dialogue to prove that aspects of the scene could work given the right context.

Fool of a Muse

Laurance tried to keep his head straight, but it simply wasn’t possible. Not there. Not while hearing her speak of secrets of the deceased. The voices of the calling were always louder when reminded of death, and staying in a tomb was practically asking them to start acting up. He left in order to get some space to clear his head, walking towards the beaches, hoping the ocean waves would drown out the sound.

Instead he found the opposite of what he wanted. Standing on the sands was Irena, a hand over her stomach, who turned at the sound of Laurance approaching. Clutched in her other hand was Aaron’s bandanna. The voices only got louder at the reminder and the sight of their target.

“Laurance? Is everything alright?” She asked softly. Laurance stepped back, which only worsened her concern.

“I-I’m fine,” He lied. Irena simply laughed, turning around to admire the sunset again.

“You don’t have to lie to me Laurance, I know that look.”

“You needn’t worry about my well being.” Laurance finally stepped closer to her, standing at her side and hesitating at the urge to try and hold one of her hands. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m doing… alright.”

“Now who’s lying?” Irena chuckled a little bit, and Irene help him if that wasn’t one of the most assuring sounds Laurance had heard. Even if it was shaky, she could still laugh.

“What makes you say that?”

“Dante told Garroth about what happened to you the other day. And Garroth couldn’t help but tell me.” Irena sighed, tucking the bandanna into her pocket.

“I told him to keep that between us. It was just an imp playing a trick on me.”

“Why are you trying to hide from me?”

“I’m not—”

“Yes you are.”

“I just don’t want to talk about it. Not while the wound is still fresh.”

“You know that Dante told Garroth because he’s your guard, and that’s why Garroth told me. It’s our sworn duty to take care of and protect you. We can’t do that if you refuse to tell us what’s happening.”

“I wasn’t going to keep it from you for long. This is a security issue on our island that would be brought to light in due time. I just… I needed time to process what I saw.”

“You mean who you saw.” Irena let out a sigh.

“Why did you run?” Laurance turned away.

“You know why.”

“I want to hear it from you.”

“Irena, I… I couldn’t be around you like that. The calling never ends, not in my waking hours. If I had seen the way you were immediately after his passing, I don’t know if I would have been able to hold myself back.”

“Are you sure that’s what this is?” Laurance finally looked to his side and saw Irena’s pitiful expression. They were alone. She was weak. He could just do it now.

“I told you, I’m not your problem to worry about.”

“I'm going to worry regardless. I know you aren’t proud of it, but you are prone to jealousy. I just want to ensure that’s not what this is.” Laurance looked away as his hands clenched into fists. Why was she pushing this?

“And what if it was?” Irena went silent. “Look, I’ll never pretend I understood Aaron, or why he did any of what he did. And I didn’t trust him entirely either, not after he hid he was the Lord of Falcon Claw from us.”

“Laurance, it’s not that simple—”

“What I want to know is why you cared so deeply for him. What made him so special he was worthy of your love?”

“I-I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Well I do.”

“Laurance, regardless of my feelings, he proved himself trustworthy to us. Remember when you turned? He saved my life without killing you.” Laurance held back rapidly growing tears.

“And I’m ashamed he had to do such a thing. But you’re avoiding the question.”

“Maybe it’s a question I don’t want to answer.” Irena’s continued refusal had Laurance already losing his patience. The voices had enough too.

“Why not?!”

“Laurance!” Garroth suddenly snapped. “That’s enough.”

“Stay out of this!” Laurance suddenly roared, his head jerking so he could snarl at the intervening guard. Irena moved back when she saw the flash of red in his eyes.

“It’s not our place to question her on personal matters.”

“Don’t pretend like you aren’t upset over this too.”

“I’m only upset I couldn’t protect my lord adequately. You should be grateful you have the opportunity, not throwing it away over your jealousy.”

“You weren’t here, Garroth! You didn’t see the way he acted around her!”

“I only wish I could have been. He made the ultimate sacrifice for her, and in turn did the same for me. You should understand that. You were lucky enough to come back from it.” Too far and Garroth knew it, but there was nothing he could do now. Anger flowed through Laurance faster than he could keep up with, the voices of the calling louder than his own thoughts. Garroth was right, he was taking this too far, he knew that, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“Don’t speak as if you understand the hell I’ve been through! The hell I went through just to get back to her! I’m here now so why care about him?!” Laurance’s eyes flashed back to their normal state, but by the time regret came to his expression, the damage was already done.

With those words, Haven finally moved from where she’d been watching the conversation, racing forward until she was a step away from Laurance, before slapping him across the face. Irena groaned, nearly falling over which made Garroth rush to her side while Laurance stood there in shock. When he finally could hear his own thoughts over the voices, he saw the tears building up in Havens eyes.

“Would you listen to yourself?!” Haven nearly screamed. “Would you think of saying the same thing if I had followed through?! If I had used my own life to break the realm barrier either of the two times I almost did it, would you be stupid enough to be enraged with someone for grieving over me?!”

“Y-You’re different–” Laurance couldn’t even fully remember what he said.

“Am I?! Aaron loved Irena the same way you love me! Would you accept someone yelling at you for mourning my death?!” Laurance opened his mouth, but closed it after a second. Then he noticed Haven’s hand on the handle of her sword, her sheath undone. “Whether you realize it or not, your selfish words have begun to harm Lord Irena. If you continue to do harm to my lord, I will not hesitate to strike you down.”

“Irena, you need some rest,” Garroth insisted as she groaned again. She just nodded, letting Garroth half pick her up and carry her over to her home.

“Will you stand down, or are you finally going to fight me?” Haven could see the battle in Laurance’s features. Streaks of red flashed through his eyes, and his pupils had begun to shake. There was a clear conflict about what the hell to feel and how to act on it. It went against his nature to wish harm on Haven, let alone Irena, but the calling was almost jumping at this chance. The voices in his head started to demand it.

But he couldn’t. Laurance’s shoulders slumped, and he stepped away from Haven, his humanity clearly winning. Haven still didn’t remove her hand from the handle of her sword, not until Laurance finally fell to his knee, tossing his sword aside, and hanging his head in shame.

“If you see it fit to punish me, do it now,” He insisted. “I have acted shamelessly, and allowed my emotions to cloud my judgment. Only a fool would ask for forgiveness, yet I throw myself at your feet to beg for it.” Haven sighed, finally buttoning up her sheath and taking her hands off of her sword.

“I will grant you what you ask, but in exchange you must promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“I need you to promise me that you won’t keep running away from how the calling making you feel.”

“Haven, I didn’t run today, and look what happened.”

“And look at how Irena didn’t even have the strength to yell at you to leave. Your Lord is in frail condition, both emotionally and physically.”

“The calling will tempt me.”

“And if you ran from it, she could die without you there to protect her.” Laurance groaned at the thought of it, something that clearly ran through his mind every day he was away from them, and Haven knew it. She knew Laurance frustratingly well. “And if Irena were to fall, not only would the grief of losing her begin to take hold of your mind, the calling would latch onto me next. Would you really risk that happening?”

“I would fall on my own sword before I ever considered hurting you.”

“Well you’re no good to me dead.” Haven glanced down at him. “Pick your head up.” Laurance raised his head to look at Haven, and she saw nothing but love and oh-so-human fear in those beautiful eyes of his. “I want you to promise me you won’t run from this. And if you do, know that I will follow after you.”

“Haven–”

“I didn’t before, remember?”

“And I told you–”

“I don’t care what you told me! Laurance–” Haven rolled her eyes and groaned as she tried to formulate the best way to word this to him. “Look, I know you guards struggle to understand this, but the people you’re protecting care about you. Even if you’re willing to go to ridiculous lengths to protect us, we’re willing to go to the same lengths to ensure you don’t die in the process.”

“Seems like an exhausting thing to do.”

“It is! If I were able to, I’d just stop caring about you sacrificial idiots! Unfortunately–” Haven looked down at that frustratingly charming smile of Laurance’s. He loved seeing Haven riled up and frustrated, and he was clearly enjoying the way she kept pausing to try and get through to him. They were both furiously stubborn, and he loved it. “Unfortunately, if I were in the Shadow Abyss that day, I would have thrown myself into whatever danger I had to in order to save your life.” Laurance froze for a moment, a chill going down his body.

“Haven, don’t say stuff like that.”

“What I’m trying to say is that you aren’t going to get away with this again. You can’t just keep running from the consequences. You wanna run off into danger, try to satiate yourself with isolation so you don’t want to kill somebody?! Too bad, cause I’ll be right behind you!”

“But I don’t want you to be!”

“But that’s not how the story goes.” Haven smiled as she knelt down in front of Laurance. “The poet will travel to hell and back just to get another glimpse at their muse.” Laurance sighed, finally relenting, taking his hand off of his knee and holding it out to Haven, who took it tenderly.

“And their muse will always follow, in hopes of hearing just one more note of their song.”

“So, darling muse, will you make this poet into a soldier who fights the fates for you?” Laurance looked up into Haven’s eyes, before pulling her hand closer and placing a kiss against it.

“My fabled poet, you need not do such a thing. They already fear you.” Haven giggled, before pulling Laurance into a kiss. It was slow, not about feeling particularly good, rather just about cementing in that promise. And the fact that Haven was easily the more stubborn of the two.

[kaseyskat]

hmmm. 22 or 24 for lovesong? if ur still doing these no rush or pressure tho :-)<33

(#22- a kiss in a rush of adrenaline- #24 a kiss in danger)

(for context: because i don't want this one to sound too similar to the other lovesong prompt, i ammmm going to set this in RWBY au! i'll explain some terms in the notes for yall so nobody is too lost :) my apologies)

~~

It isn't often that team TGLNS gets separated for missions. After all, the whole point of being teamed up is that they learn how to work as a team, and yet...

... well, they were told this situation required delicacy. They were split three-ways in the cover of the night: Lark would go on his own, completely cloaked by his semblance, while Grant and Terry covered them from behind, leaving Nick and Sparrow to pair up and secure the base they were sent to protect.

Fighting at night is always harder. Already, Grimm lurk in the shadows, and it is only the faint way Sparrow is glowing that wards them off for the time being- Nick is fairly positive that if she weren't using her semblance, they would've already been attacked.

Sparrow is quiet for once, though her hand trembles in Nick's own as they walk through the forest path towards the base. Her semblance - her own personal superpower, the way she can turn herself into light - certainly comes in handy to make her the world's prettiest night light, but it's a little unnerving to see the way she trembles ever so slightly in the dark.

"Hey," Nick whispers, squeezing her hand. "What's up?"

"I wish Lark were here," Sparrow admits, and she shivers as the breeze catches them both, ruffling her hair and his jacket sleeves in one gentle wave. "I'm worried about him."

"Your brother is gonna be fine, he's a total badass." Nick reassures, and he resists the urge to throw his arm around her, to hold her the way he's been longing for weeks now. "And he's entrusted your safety to me, so give him that same faith, huh?"

"I could kick ass without you," Sparrow retorts, but the silly quip works; she's not shaking so much, and her light is a little steadier as they approach the base.

Crazy that this is the base that criminals use. Nick swallows thickly as they stare at the door, the sounds of Grimm getting closer faint but not far off. "Your grandfather could be here," he murmurs, the words getting stuck in his throat. "Are you... okay with that?"

"My grandfather is a piece of shit who wants to make the world harder for everyone except himself," Sparrow scoffs, and she drops Nick's hand to summon her gauntlet, her form getting a little brighter. "I hope we run into him, so I can kick his ass properly."

Grimm are on their tail now, no longer warded off by Sparrow's semblance, and even though Nick is sure that Grant has their back from the trees and Terry is ready to spring to action if they need him, he can't help but vibrate with adrenaline- brothers above, he loves the thrill of a good fight, especially when he's in such good company. "Looks like the Grimm might get to us first," he warns, even as he summons his spear, his own semblance thrumming underneath his skin, waiting to be used. "Seems we won't get into this place without a fight regardless."

"Let's hope Lark's beaten us there, then," Sparrow says, and she clenches her gauntlet into her chest, spinning on her heels to face Nick. There is something dark in her eyes, even as her glow gets even more intense. "Ready for Operation Flash-Bang?"

"We were born ready," Nick grins.

Before he can use his semblance though, Sparrow does something completely unexpected: she leans up on her toes and draws Nick into a kiss. It isn't the first time they've kissed, but the way that Nick's heart is already beating rapidly from the oncoming fight coupled with how Sparrow's non-gauntlet-ed fist comes to tangle in his hair has him heady, faint.

"For good luck," Sparrow whispers while still against his lips, her breath warm and sending shivers down Nick's spine. "Let's kick some ass, shall we?"

"If you kiss me before every battle, I'll have to fight more often," Nick whispers right back, and he can't resist the urge to lean back in for one last quick kiss, lingering in her taste, her scent.

"Don't get too cocky," Sparrow teases when he straightens back up, but her cheeks are flushed, the light of her semblance doing little to hide it. "Now come on: it'll be embarrassing if Grant takes out more Grimm than we do from the trees."

"Pretty sure that's his job," Nick points out, but as Sparrow leaps into danger, gauntlet held in front of her and glowing brighter than ever, it's all he can do to follow her lead and activate his own semblance, his spear splitting in half as his form splits in two.

It's still a long shot, three against... however many Grimm face them in the woods, not to mention the White Fang rebels they might find in the base. But as long as they're together... Nick has no doubts that they'll be victorious.

[chiquititaosita]

yo if your comfortable can I request headcannons/ scenario (whatever is easier for you to write) about one piece boys (zoro law and sanji) would react to y/n using their safeword. Like how they would calm them down and aftercare. Ty💕

after care headcanons

Featuring: Zoro, Law, and Sanji

post type: headcanons

bear note: when I saw this I was blushing hard as a tomate. like AHAHHAHAHAHEHEHEBE! I was squealing! This made my night. So I got you :) im going to link @spideyyeet they made an amazing masterpiece. About using a safe word! I love it! Go check it out! I read that shit back to back!! I still read that shit back to back

@3strapstyle helped me with this one so THANK YOU RUMMIEEE

Zoro

- first off! this man don’t know what after care is unless you tell him

-“STOP ZORO THAT FUCKING HURTS!” You’ll scream the minute he pounds you from behind

- zoro loves anal so I can imagine him being rough with his fat dick in u making u say the safe word

-“GREEN!”

- once you tell him he starts to feel so bad.

-“My bad babe.” he stops now, feeling awkward

-you have to tell him what to do. He’s a slow boy (not too slow though)

-“okay so now what.”

-“do you want to be alone?.”

-“no. I want you to hold me.” you’ll pout at him and look away,

- He’ll let you cuddle on his chest, and kiss you gently,

-“did I go too rough on you.”

-“way too rough, my butt hurts” you’ll sigh

-after a few minutes of cuddling he’ll give you a proper apology “I’m sorry…I’ll try my best to not get too carried away.”

-than try to rub your ass to make it “feel better.”

Law

-this man is into s&m

-he wants to call u all sorts of names, spit in ur mouth, mark u up

- loves IT ROUGH AND MESSY

-“purple!!” If You’ve been too overstimulated, or lost conscious. He’ll understand what you’re trying to say and will ask

-“do you want to stop or take a break?”

- regardless when u say the safe word he stops instantly

-can make you overstimulated within 45 seconds (it’s because his size he’s long and thick)

- “I’m sorry baby, does it hurt right here?” He’ll try to figure it out where it hurts and massage your sore spots

-“you did amazing baby, I’m so sorry for going too rough on you” he’s doing his job as a doctor and as your partner to praise how amazing you are, treat you well

-will immediately give you pain killers, and make you something to eat.

-draws you a bath to help with sore muscles. very sweet of him

- literally does whatever you want

-"don't worry about me not cumming. ill consider this my punishment. I like to edge myself anyway"

-spoils you and of course will give you a snack, y’all will probably just stay in y’all’s shared room, and go to sleep

Sanji

> tears were starting to flow through your eyes. all it was blurry… “blue!!” you screamed out crying, unintentionally hitting his shoulder a few times.

> Sanji immediately stoppped and hugged you.. “shhh…it’s okay..honey... im..sorry…did I go too far on you…” He’s wiping your tears.

>If You were too overstimulated to explain yourself, he’ll be holding you and continued comforting you until your breathing was back to normal.

> When you had enough energy to talk about why you stopped him, you’ll explain to him on why you just wanted to please him since he always pleases you. you thought you were going to return the favor and it’s okay.

> Yes giving both partners the same amount of pleasure is needed, but communication is most necessary, that’s what Sanji was trying to tell you.

“Darling look at me. You’re okay.. im glad you told me. if we kept going..you could’ve been jelly on toast.”

- kissing the top of your head, before taking another hit of his cigarette. you giggled a bit which indeed made you feel a bit better. rubbing your back, and tracing your stretch marks, holding your hands. Kissing you everywhere. He just is an aftercare king.

“Let me to draw you a bath, and hold you okay..a princess like you should be treated with the best care as possible.” he carried you in bridal style into the bath. he washed your hair, you body and everything.

> MANS EVEN DID YOUR HAIR ROUTINE FOR YOU!! OMFG! So you didn’t have to do it.

“You use this one right princess?”

- He was so gentle and kind with you.

> The way applied the oil in your hair, scrunched your curls,and gently brushed your hair kissing your hands.

> You instructed him step by step on what to do and he does it flawlessly. 😩❤️

> when it came to you getting hungry, he made you your food from childhood. admiring how you’d eat it.

Whether it was something small or something big to fill you up. it’d be something to help soothe you. Because sanji loves you and will do anything to please the love of his life.

[threegunbrainrot]

I look at the 98 anime with a fond fascination. It’s based off of only the original couple issues of Trigun plus like I want to say the first 4? Of trimax. And bc of how many things get developed and revealed much more down the line in the manga, it’s so interesting to think about this offshoot of the original source material where things didn’t quite ramp up to the same scale but still got to the heart of things anyways, where everyone’s backstories played out just a little to the left and led to a similar but different tale. Trimax is definitely my favorite, bc just everything about it is so well done to me, but 98 holds its own unique spot in my favor

i definitely agree anon ur So right

it's practically a branching timelines situation, where everything is so, SO close to being the same, but thanks to the butterfly effect everything got skewed ever so slightly and now the whole world is just that much more different

call it parallel universes, alternate dimensions, alternate timelines... i really love it all. there's so many specific parts of both trimax and 98 that shine brighter and dimmer than one another. unique pieces of the narrative that were either expounded or brushed aside.

like in 98, meryl didn't want to believe that vash was the legend she was looking for. it was a ridiculous notion that such a friendly, goofy guy could be the bloodthirsty killer she hunted for

but in the manga, she and milly took to it instantly. in fact, they jumped into it with AGGRESSION- actively getting involved in the fighting and PUSHING to calm the situation down. this panel in particular i think sums it up very well lol:

they meet him with confidence and they're not afraid to fire upon others for the sake of collective peace. vash is caught off by how readily he's approached and even defended, in a way. when the automatic reaction to learning his identity is usually either hostility or fear, it makes sense.

and i dont have a convenient shot of any particular moment in 98 that portrayed their early relationship well, but it's easy to see the differences anyway.

instead of steady confidence, meryl met vash with confusion and outright denial for awhile. she and milly both got involved in fewer fights overall i think? but i might be wrong. i won't speak much on this since i don't remember 98 very well, but i get the sense they sought out vash's fights much less in that rendition (at least early on. they went CRAZY toward the end- meryl especially).

and there's countless little differences like this.

so yeah, even if trimax is the source content, 98 is this funky little spinoff that treats vash just a little bit more nicely lmao. the whole thing is a little more watered down, i think; intentionally to make it more palatable. i still love it regardless, of course. it just oozes charm <3

[aversiteespabilas]

Ohh god, i can't just move on from that response im so back! I love info dumps, and boy do you deliver 😭🙏

Okay, the previous draft you had for the girls are fighting is so big brain, and honestly as a concept goes waaay too hard! But I see how it would look awkward in practice. You know, i really like that we can see Tetsu's face i think that was a good move, and it really does carry forward. I mean this is a moment that lowkey shaped the way Yusuke views Tetsuya and the Usagi at large (and arguably himself).

I kinda feel like your original idea still comes through though. I may be talking out of my ass, but hear me out: to Yusuke, Tetsuya exists as a living symbol of the Usagi. Having Tetsu literally stand above Yusuke places him in a weak submissive position, he's completely helpless and is being fully judged in what's probably one of his weakest moments. In Yusuke's mind, he IS being judged by the Usagi. We're literally watching Yusuke be turned away by THE symbol of the usagi. 

and by his brother…

It's almost biblical dude. And i think THATS why the outside framing hits. This is an incredibly intimate moment that feels…wrong to watch. The scene around us is practically Begging the audience to turn our gaze and spare Yusuke the embarrassment of being watched. but we still choose to push those bushes aside and take a peek…

i think you really nailed the vibe. and this is the OPENING CHAPTER??? this goes criminally hard, Rhin need to be LOCKED UP for this 😭

and…about the paws.

I feel youuuuuuu, the rabbits are so fluffy and soff i neeeeed to touchhhh. Im in the corner of a room rocking back and forth with my arms around my knees thinking about fluffy bunnies. 

I LOVELOVELOVE the rabbit shapesss, im gonna talk about it every time!!!! the paws, and their rabbit feet?? And their twitchy wittle wabbit noses 🥺🥺 their ears are probably sooo soft…just like…imagine how supple the skin under their ears are. I might explode.

two sexy furry-adjacent OCs getting dirty in the sheets? AWOOGA BARK BARK AWOOOOOO!!! and tetsu reaching for that cake?? honestly same, Toshi’s a baddie 😭🙏 but like…it's Genuinely a really pretty piece. i'm not educated enough on this stuff to really put what I'm thinking into words, but it really does look good, kudos!

IM LOVING H&H. I’m such a big fan of your stuff and i'm definitely on the H&H train 💗🙏 

anyways, as always thank you for sharing ur rabbits (and hares) i love the RRCU and i'm having so much fun watching you and Rhin play with the dolls!! There's so much to talk about, and i wish i had the brain power to do so 😭 but trust me, I'm seeing everything you guys put out and I'm having a ball!!

- 😎

WAAAAHH I love your take on that chapter and the illustration!! You're so right. At the time, Kyouhei (their dad) was still holding the Usagi-sama title, so in a sense they were both being held against the wall, but as future Family Head, Tetsuya had to make a decision to stand for the Usagi name. Regardless, Yusuke had always seen Tetsuya as a role model more than anybody else, and being rejected by their father didn't hurt nearly as much as being rejected by him. They're brothers, but they're twenty years apart and Yusuke spent much of his childhood at his house and under his care, so Tetsuya has practically been a father to Yusuke too, more so than Kyouhei was. You might have noticed we actually tend to refer to Tetsu as his brother-dad sometimes hgfgjh you'll be seeing more of that in the latest Sword Lifted chapters.

And also I agree with you! Chapter 1 goes criminally hard, it's so so poignant and still makes me absolutely insane, it actually hasn't changed significantly from how it was back in December 2023 when it was first written and most family lore was in progress/very vague. Fun fact, what is now Chapter 1 of a 45-chapter fic was actually a little one shot thing Rhin had meant as a gift for me, after a sudden collective episode of insanity and me drawing their Apoc Miyamoto (now Yusuke) with my own rabbits Yuki and Jojo.

Check out my genuine reaction:

There was plenty of screaming, plenty of "OHMYGOSH THEY'RE RELATEEEDDDD", plenty of gushing about each other's characters, plenty of lore-adjusting and giggles about there being two Jotaros, and before we knew it we had a whole plot staring at us in the face. At the time, Rhin had been meaning to write something about their version of Usagi in the Good timeline, where he was not Leo's partner but Kenichi and Mariko's. All of that converged into the RRCU as we know it today!

The reason we're each taking care of a different "timeline" is merely that Leo's established partner in each of our canon verses (Run O' The Mill Verse and Covetverse) was different, as well as other stuff going on with the Hamatos, so in Run O' The Mill Rabbit, Leo ends up as Yuki's partner, whereas in Covet (the Good one), Leo's partner is a human named Juan, and in Soft Apoc (Covet's Bad one) Resistance Leader Leo is dating an older, rugged Yusuke who goes by the name of Miyamoto. That means in the Covetverse, and by extension SL, Yuki's romantic partner is Cooper the dog instead. It's an adjustment that just needed to happen, BUT! Save for a couple of events, the canon lore of the Usagi family remains consistent and exactly the same. In fact, everything that's been written so far in H&H and everything we know about Yusuke's life before meeting Yuki at the bar, including the Girls Are Fighting scene, happens in exactly the same way. The timeline thing adds a big element of fun because Rhin and I can both build from the same lore but still surprise each other about how things happen and do it our own way, hehehe~

Man, now you got me infodumping about timelines and stuff- It's a bit confusing, I know! But there's really not that much of a difference when it comes to the rabbits, they're the same characters in just slightly different circumstances. H&H will only diverge from SL's canon in its very last chapter, and I'll add a little note about it when that happens. ANYWAY! That was all to say that SL's chapter 1 went criminally hard for a REASON! It was meant to be a standalone thing to narratively cement the connection between all our characters, and I hold it forever like the freaking treasure it is!

Moving on to paws/feet, I LOVE drawing them, and in fact I love it so much that I keep drawing my characters barefoot even when it would make a lot more sense for them to wear shoes dfjghjhh in fact Rhin often writes them wearing and taking off their shoes and in my art I always gracefully ignore the shoes, apologies for that! Other times I'll put sandals on them, or otherwise shoes that leave their toesies free, which is honestly hilarious but also HAVE YOU WATCHED ZOOTOPIA?? They know what I'm talking about. We deserve to see their cute giant feet and I'll stop now before I get pointed at-

Actually hold on, that "tetsu reaching for that cake" made me cackle jdfgjdjkg HE DOES LOVE SWEETS okay I stop now

Always and forever thank you for the interest you show and for these wonderful comments, it TRULY makes us bounce off the roofs every time! I often find myself posting stuff and wondering "what Sunny will think of this one", hehehe

Have a delightful day, friend!! <3

[ivuravix]

ABBI GOOD GODDDDDDDDDDD

had to genuinely put my phone down to just breathe a couple times while reading this because it was so intense jesus christ. it had the exact right amount of soft and hot and… funny? him saying they could call him a dickhead and he’d still find it hot LMFAOO. you know how to balance it out perfectly ur so talented

i especially loved THIS

But as you turned towards the staircase, a firm grip pulled you back by the wrist, until you were in his arms now, laughing at his sudden burst of energy. Despite your amusement, he did not smile, only looked at you with a heavy, dark gaze, and a lick of his lips.

THE INTENSITY RRRRRRRAAAAAAAA i think my stomach gen flipped reading it. the fact he knows the effect he has on reader just by looking at them is SOOOOO… you capture it so well UGH and the casual show of strength, too… daryl pls call me

His grip on your hair tightened as his head fell back on the arm of the sofa, a soft breath of your name on his lips.

this image was so hot i’m 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 got me down bad immediately like your writing is so vivid i can literally see/hear him. i am screaming just IMAGINE HIM LIKE THAT

“Messy girl.”

do u understand how down bad i am. do u understand . this SINGLE piece of dialogue had me blushing like a motherfucker goddamn ABBIIIII

i know i said in the disc server that i don’t like the use of ‘girl’ bc of my gender and usually that’s true but THIS USE OF IT RIGHT HERE… something shifted i want to be his housewife. i will be his messy girl if he wants REGARDLESS i do not care .

"Takin' it good... Real good."

anything for you. literally anything you want.

the gentle guidance, the dominance, the casual show of strength, the pinning to the WALL, the pet names, the softness after… UR CRAZY THIS WAS PERFECT and very very worth the wait 🫡

Daddy's Home

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 5 (Alexandria) ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: SMUT (18+)—oral sex (male receiving), dominant-ish Daryl, doggystyle, so much dirty talk, like one tiny spank (just a little one), mutual masturbation, vaginal fingering, oh yeah and DADDY KINK, language ❧ Word Count: 4.3k

❧ Summary: When Daryl comes back home from a week away, he doesn't want to sleep. He just wants you.

❧ A/N: Ok so yes I know the title is ridiculous, but like... what else was I gonna call this oneshot ok? Anyway, here's some major daddy kink. Like a lot of daddy kink. Daryl is just daddy. Sorry but he is. I can't explain it. Actually, yes I can. He's a protector, a provider, a big softie. He's a daddy, and I don't even have daddy issues but just let me have this. Goodbye I am never showing my face here again. <3 Also I simply cannot get over how hot he is in this gif holy mother of god.

The quiet was nice, late nights in Alexandria, gentle summer breeze prickling at your skin. It was nice to leave your bedroom window open through the night. Daryl hated it, always going on about how someone could climb the trellis outside your window and sneak in while you slept, but when he was gone, you’d indulge yourself in that one simple luxury.

When he told you that he was Alexandria’s newest recruiter, you knew you’d be in for some lonely nights ahead. Still, you also knew Daryl was the best man for the job—you’d seen him bring dozens of people to the prison, providing them shelter while expecting nothing in return, and then going out the next morning to do it all over again. That was when he wasn’t going out on his hunts to find food for everyone, often bringing home the biggest deer you’d ever seen, until he’d do it again next week, and bring home an even bigger one.

Yes, there was no doubt about it—Daryl knew what he was doing out there, but it didn’t stop you from worrying about him. Missing him. So while the quiet was, indeed, nice, you still could not get used to being alone, in this perfect little suburban townhouse, waiting. 

Your waiting became so monotonous, sitting up in your bed and reading another old Agatha Christie novel, that you decided, at length, to migrate downstairs, the living room. When Daryl would come home, you thought, you’d greet him right away. That was how much you were anticipating his arrival. 

One week was nothing, really, but it was the longest you’d been apart since knowing each other, and with the world the way it was, a lot could happen in seven days. A lot of bad, bad things. 

So you flicked on the lamp, snuggled yourself into a knitted blanket, and curled up on the sofa, book in hand as you let out a quiet huff. “Daryl…” you said to yourself, scanning your book to relocate the exact sentence where you left off. “Where are you, you big meatball.”

Your nervous jitters only worsened with the passing hour, your legs shaking involuntarily, your finger tapping on the edge of the book, your toes wiggling nonstop. All you needed was the sound of that bike, that big, stupid bike. That would ease your fretful heart. Well, what would really make you happy was seeing that man of yours, no doubt in need of a shower, but still, your man nonetheless. 

Speak of the Devil, as they say, and he doth appear.

It started out as just a distant hum, perking your ears and making your spine straighten in anticipation. Still frozen, you listened intently. A rumble, now, mechanical and getting louder with each second your heart began to beat faster. At one fateful moment, the roar of the makeshift machine was at its highest volume, and before you could even stand, a bright beam of white light shone through the blinds of the front window. 

All at once, the light and the rumble ceased, punctuated by a low huff, followed by an exasperated grunt. Heavy footsteps plodded along in a familiar pattern—you even recognized the sound of his no doubt mud-caked boots scraping against the edge of the steps leading to the front porch. You could only hope that this time, he’d take the extra precaution of removing his boots before he stepped over the threshold. 

There was a spring in your step, you wrapping the terry cloth fabric of your robe over your chest as you flitted towards the front door. Finally, you stood just a few feet back, your eyes transfixed on the shiny bronze doorknob. Inevitably, a wide grin made your cheeks swell until they almost ached, but the wait was worth it. 

When he came through the door, his head was hanging low, until he felt your presence. Lifting his gaze, he met your great big smile with a smaller one, though the movement of his body betrayed him. The door shut with a strong thud, just before he stepped forward to let his crossbow fall from his shoulder. With a soft grunt under his breath, he buried his nose in the warmth of your shoulder, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. 

For a good while, he stayed like that, only taking in the sensory relief you provided him—your faint scent of rose, your softness, your tender chuckle as your hands rubbed in vertical motions up and down his aching back. Despite the rigidity of his tired muscles, he melted into you, letting himself bask in the comfort you provided him. To hold him like this was nothing short of a ritual between you two, whenever you were apart for long enough to begin missing each other to the point of near grief. 

A man like Daryl—who’d been through so much as he had, who’d seen so much and had still so much room in his heart to give of himself to others—deserved to be held the way you held him. Few people in this world had a heart as big as him, though he did not show it in ways most people would recognize. He showed it in acts of service, in providing for people who could not provide for themselves, in the ones he loved safe. It was what you always adored about him: how he gave of himself, and expected nothing in return. 

“Hey, there, tough guy.” Daryl buried his face deeper into you, now snug in the crook of your neck, where he caught the scent of your perfume, applied much earlier in the day, yet still lingering sweetly. Though you adored how much he clung to you, you longed so much to see his face. Your hands grabbed a hold of either side of his head to lift his gaze to yours. 

As usual, his disheveled hair hung low over his forehead, obscuring one of your favorite features of his—his eyes. Between strips of tattered brown curtains, you could make out the blue-grey hue of his irises. Pushing them back, you smiled again at those deep-set pools of silvery cobalt blue. You always found their mystery to be intriguing. 

“How are you?” you asked, though you knew from the state of him that he must’ve been exhausted. He hadn’t even muttered a word, and yet the more prominent than usual bags under his eyes spoke for him. “You must be tired, hon. Let’s get you in bed.”

But as you turned towards the staircase, a firm grip pulled you back by the wrist, until you were in his arms now, laughing at his sudden burst of energy. Despite your amusement, he did not smile, only looked at you with a heavy, dark gaze, and a lick of his lips.

In your surprise, you hadn’t even noticed that both of his hands were now wrapped around each wrist, so tight that you nearly feared he’d cut off your circulation. 

Something was wrong, had to have been. You’d never seen him so… intense. Of course, Daryl could often be intense, when he was angry especially, but this wasn’t that. Anger was something you could recognize in Daryl. He’d never directed it towards you, but you knew it, and this was something different. 

“Are… are you feeling okay, sweetie?”

Silence, just that gaze holding you hostage, and a heat rising from his body that you could’ve sworn caused a bead of sweat to form on your brow. 

Now he was scaring you. 

“Daryl?” 

Your voice tempted him further. If only you knew just how much he missed you, how much he needed you. A week was too long. A week without you, a week without your touch, a week without your sweet, dulcet voice. And oh, how that voice awoke in him a terrible burning, a conflagration of deadly proportions, a fire that could only be extinguished by the one he loved. 

Entranced by his stare, you hadn’t noticed that he had you pinned against the wall, his strong, heaving chest keeping you there. 

And when he pressed himself against you, you knew. It was obvious, the way he nearly thrusted into you. 

When you realized what he wanted, you felt a wave of relief wash over you: he needed you just as much as you had needed him the past week. From the night he left, you’d not stopped thinking of him, and when you’d turn in your bed to feel for him, and he wasn’t there, the ache for him only worsened. 

There was no way in Hell, though, you were going to initiate sex when he got home. You knew he’d be tired, and a good night’s rest was what he needed before you even thought of asking him to make love to you, but now, with that wild look in his eyes, that hungry snarl in his lip, that flare in his nostrils, that beating of his heart… 

“Oh,” you sighed, your teeth biting back your lower lip as your eyes trailed up and down his body. With your hands finally free, you ran them up his arms, letting them settle on the broad, firm shoulders you loved so much. 

For just a moment, he leaned forward, forehead and tip of his nose meeting yours. With his hardening cock beginning to dig between your thighs, and his vaguely tobacco tinged musk tickling your senses, you could only utter one word. 

A soft, nearly whimpering mewl: “Daddy.”

By the time he got you to the sofa, each of you were already panting, hands moving relentlessly as you both clawed for any part of each other’s body you could get your hands on. Your mouths worked tirelessly, tongues spinning sloppily around the other’s in your haste to finally have each other again. 

When you successfully removed his leather angel-winged vest, you worked on unbuttoning his black shirt, but his hands stopped you. 

“Need your mouth,” he said. 

Leaning back on the sofa with a low grunt, he began unbuckling his belt, while you slotted yourself between his legs, hands massaging his clothed thighs, thick and flexing against your palm. 

When his cock sprang out of its confines, you’d already stripped yourself of your underwear and your robe. In only a transparent silk nightgown, your hips swayed instinctively as you watched his hand begin to stroke himself, up and down the long, thick shaft you’d come to know and love so much. 

“Come ‘ere.” His hands reached out to grab either side of your head, bringing you down to his cock. Panting lips began to drool a bead of saliva down the side of his growing erection. Knowing what he wanted, of course, you took the reddened, swelling tip into your mouth, much to his immediate relief.

“Fuck.” As your mouth slid a little lower, your hand wrapped around the base of his cock. His grip on your hair tightened as his head fell back on the arm of the sofa, a soft breath of your name on his lips. 

Returning to watch you, he lifted your hair into a makeshift ponytail, tilting his head to get a better look at you, your eyes fluttering up to meet his gaze.

“Pretty angel.” Even just the utterance of that affectionate pet name made you feel an overwhelming need to touch yourself. With your free hand, you lifted your nightgown to slot your fingers between warm, velvety folds of aching flesh. “Ya look so good like this… Suckin’ on Daddy’s cock.”

It was somewhat of a tradition now, using that phrase, though only in the context of sex, in your most private, intimate moments. It was silly, you knew it, and he knew it, too, but you both found it excruciatingly sexy all the same. It was sacred in that you’d probably die of embarrassment if anyone else besides Daryl knew of your little… kink.

But neither of you could quite help it, you adoring his strong, protective nature, and him just finding it so alluringly sinful. Guilty pleasure type of thing, with emphasis on pleasure.

And besides, his dirty talk was sex all on its own. 

As your mouth took him in progressively deeper, your fingers moved faster, increasing the friction against your sensitive spot, then slowly dipping down into the embrace of your entrance. 

Not only could he admire your mouth, and your sweet soft moans, but he could watch your fingers enter you, your hand shaking as you penetrated yourself to match the rhythm you knew he liked when he had his cock in you.

“Love when you fuck yourself like that.” He only wished he was the one doing it. “You thinkin’ of me?”

Well, it was hard not to think of him, with his cock in your mouth. 

Taking the opportunity to catch your breath, you answered him. “Yes, Daddy.”

His hands pulled you back down onto his cock, your lips forced open by his tip. “Just don’t make yourself come,” he said. “That’s for me.”

Yes, Daddy. 

Sliding over your tongue, his cock dug deeper, towards the back of your mouth. Going down on him was always a bit of a challenge, given just how big he was, but the weight of him inside you, wherever that may be, was far more rewarding. And when you got to feel that little twitch, his cock moving all on its own as it begged for release… It only made you suck harder, sliding your mouth up and down, taking him in deeper until you were nearly gagging. 

But he liked that, the sound of you struggling just a little to take all of him. Daryl was a sensitive man, yes, but he was still a man—proud of his big cock, even if he was insecure in most other areas. At least he was big, and at least he knew how to use it. 

With his hand on the back of your head, firm, but still gentle enough to let you up if you needed it, he pushed you down just a bit more, hearing your gag become more guttural, more strangled. It did not hurt, though. It only turned you on, your fingers curling inside you to tickle that special spot, and your other hand fondling his balls, tightly drawn to the underside of the base of his cock. 

For several moments, the only sounds coming from either of you were your strained groans, his slipping from between his agape lips, yours muffled by his length filling your entire mouth. Between those sounds of pleasure were the sloppy squelches of your lips soaking him with your saliva. You were always so messy when you went down on him, but how could you not be? His cock provided you no room to lick up your drool, stuffing you until your spit had nowhere else to go but down his veiny, hard length.

Of course, he’d have to tease you about it, how sloppy you were. “Messy girl,” he said, his hand gripping your hair to pull back your bangs. You fluttered your eyes open to meet his, and you were greeted by his crooked smile, with just a sliver of those shiny teeth showing. “Gettin’ Daddy all wet, huh? Nice and wet so I can fuck you good.”

Yes, Daddy.

Eyes rolling back slightly, he bucked his hips up with a jolt, your sucking beginning to tip him over the edge. Just in time, too, for your hand was getting tired of rubbing, and you needed him to finish you off.

“F-fuck, angel. Imma need ya to get that pussy ready for me.”

Whatever he wanted, you’d give him. After all, you were his good girl. Always his good girl. You couldn’t think of a time you’d ever been a bad girl for him. Daddy deserved his good girl.

Yes, you were a good girl, but you could still be… needy.

“Oh, Daddy.” Now straddling his waist, your fingers went straight for the first button on his shirt. “Want you.” He loved when you whined, just a little, and when you were so needy for him that you couldn’t quite make out a completely proper sentence. “Want your shirt off.”

He let you undo just a few buttons, exposing the hairs on his chest that drove you crazy, made you want to feel those wiry hairs between your pursed lips as you trailed your kisses all over his broad chest, made so strong and big by all the manual labor he did, and that heavy crossbow he always used. 

That very same strength pulled at your wrists, then raised you up only to lay you down, sprawled out on the other side of the couch. Now he hovered over you, the tip of his cock hanging down to be tickled by the fabric of your blush pink nightie. He always liked pink on you, matched the color of your cheeks when he talked so dirty to you, made you feel like a whore, but not in a disrespectful way. Never in a disrespectful way.

Besides, you knew you were more than that to him. You knew he loved you. Two years together, through some of the most abject pain and suffering imaginable, would do that. But in moments like this, it felt good to be just his personal whore, whom he happened to love very, very much.

Tenderness blossomed between your lips and his, where he kissed you so deeply, so sweetly. And yet, you still clawed at his shirt, your fingers begging for him to let you see his gorgeous body, after so long away from him.

“Shit,” he laughed into your mouth. Sitting up, he began to undo the rest of the buttons, then peeled off his shirt with his chest puffed up, clearly a bit cocky. When your hands shot up to grasp at his pecs, the faded ink of the tattoo above his left nipple having taunted you, he chuckled again.

“Daddy,” you laughed back, your voice a drawn out, dramaticized whine. “Come on.” 

Now you were testing him, and he held back the rest of his laughter to put on a stern, domineering face. “Hey, now. Be a good girl.”

He felt your thighs squeeze together underneath him, and your hips jolting upwards. He knew what you wanted, and he’d give it to you, but this position wasn’t quite right. 

With a breathy grunt, he grabbed you by your waist, flipping you over, then lifting your bottom until it was sticking out at just the right angle. Lifting your nightie, he licked his lips to watch you move your hips from side to side, as if to taunt him. 

“Cute little ass,” he practically cooed. Leaning over you, his chest pressed firmly to your back, he nuzzled his nose against your pillowy cheek. All the while, you felt his hand slide between your now nearly dripping wet folds. Eyes closed softly, you hummed a soft whimper at the feeling. His hands were always different from yours, so much bigger, stronger, rougher. You’d never felt a touch quite like his, and part of it was because he touched you with such tenderness, even if he tried to manhandle you a little. He was still always gentle, somehow.

In the most honeyed, silky, yet scratchy, voice, he rasped in a whisper, “Did ya miss me, angel?” 

“Yes… Daddy, I missed you so, so much.”

“Mm, I missed you, too. So much.”

Finally, you felt his tip just barely graze your hole. Not only was he torturing you, he was torturing himself, but he loved it. He needed it, otherwise he was sure his peak of pleasure would go away just as fast as it would come. With you, in this moment, he needed to prolong the desire as much as he could. He could feel it coming soon, though, that tensing in his muscles, that tingling in the pit of his stomach, that twitching that made his cock seem to bounce against your folds on its own accord. 

As he slid further into you, you felt his lips find the back of your neck, where he left little kisses the more he sank into you. It felt so good to feel him again, that fullness. It was a feeling only he could give you, his unique way of moving, his cock fitting so perfectly inside you. 

Underneath your nightgown, his hands found your breasts. Tense, strong fingers curled like claws at the soft tissue. Even in his dreams, of which he had many while he was away, he could not recreate that texture—that pillowy soft flesh swelling against his fingers. And the inside of you, the warmth and tightness that hugged his cock and accepted him with each pass, in and out. 

Soon, he leaned back to watch your body envelope his, the shiny, milky coating of your arousal making it easier to slip in and out of you, his hips thrusting in ever increasing speed.

“Daddy…” 

God, he loved being called that. Much more than he should’ve. But, then again, he’d probably find you sexy even if you were calling him “dickhead.” He really didn’t mind, as long as you were calling him something. 

“Mm, angel… Daddy’s here now, sweetheart.” He delivered a harder, stronger thrust, pulling a loud, strangled moan out from deep inside of you. “That feel good?”

“Fuck, yes!” 

As if to praise you, he delivered just a small, weak slap to your bum. That was about as hard as he was willing to spank you, given how much he hated the idea of hurting you, but he knew you liked it, and he liked it, too, the clench of your body from the slap making him jolt forward. 

“Takin’ it good… Real good.”

With one hand still squeezing your breast, the other now drawing tight circles over your clit, he made your lips tremble and your muscles tighten as you began to approach the height of pleasure. You could feel it, just on the brink of release. And he felt it, too, which was why he pulled himself out of you, flipping you over again like a ragdoll. 

You were startled when he pulled you down by your ankles, until you were closer to him. He gave his fingers a good, long lick, then let them sink into you, where his cock had left you stretched wide open and dripping wet. 

Three fingers. Three thick, strong fingers, curling up inside you, making you writhe and groan as your hands shot up to grasp at his shoulders. Through half-lidded eyes, you watched his neck bulge with the strain of trying to keep himself from coming, and it only aroused you more—those muscles flexing and throbbing and burning underneath hot, sweat-dripping skin, tanned by days on end out in the sun. 

What he needed so badly was his own release, after so long of working so hard out there, risking his life for the good of Alexandria. As his forearm and biceps flexed with every push of his fingers inside of you, his chest heaved harder and harder, while you reached between your legs to find his cock. With your hand pulling on his length, and your walls clenching around his fingers as your release reached a tipping point, you both would soon be giving each other much needed relief. 

“Daddy,” you sighed, tugging harder on his cock as frustration overtook you. The closer you got to orgasm, the more you couldn’t wait any longer. “Make me come… I wanna come.”

“Ah, angel… I’m gonna come, too.”

Just moments later, you tensed and gasped and writhed and moaned, rocking your hips upward as his fingers stayed inside you, squeezed by your contracting walls. “Oh, Daddy!”

He leaned forward to lay on top of you, his sturdy weight keeping you in place as you rode out your high, soaking his fingers with your arousal. The heat of your cheek seemed to burn his lips as he kissed you there, then rubbed his button nose in delicate circles to soothe you. “Yeah… Daddy’s got ya, sweetheart.”

With your hand still tugging on him, he gasped a heavy breath, spilling out over you right then and there, his hips thrusting into your hand in desperate, sloppy motions. The orgasm was so strong that he lost his composure for a moment, his head falling into your chest as he groaned your name, over and over and over again. 

And now he freed his hand, using it to rub up and down the sides of your torso, your skin like fine silk under his worn, calloused fingers. In his hair were your hands, massaging his scalp the way you knew he liked, until he lifted his head to offer you a gentle smile. 

“Mm, I’ll never get tired of that.”

You tilted your head with a wide grin. “I didn’t think you’d want to do it tonight. I thought you’d be exhausted.”

He breathed a low huff before rolling over onto his side. You did the same, letting him hold you with his chest pressed firmly to your back. There wasn’t much room on that tiny couch, but you made it work. After all, even if you were in bed upstairs, you’d probably still be this close to each other, clinging for dear life, never wanting to be separated again, though you knew someday you’d have to.

“I am,” he said. “Just… I dunno, needed you, s’all.” Observant as he was, he took notice of your shivering, and reached back to grab the knitted blanket that had been draped over the back of the couch. He covered the both of you, then tucked his chin into your shoulder, where it seemed to fit perfectly. “Missed ya so much, could hardly stand bein’ without you.”

Even now, after you thought you’d be used to his sweet words, he still had a way of sending those butterflies aflutter. “Well, now you’re back home.”

That sounded so good to him—back home.

~

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated!

[mangozcat]

— hello dear readers. this story hits a bit closer to home than the rest. this story, while yes it’s a smut for all of you to read and enjoy, is also one for those bigger girls that just don’t feel like they belong. all of the descriptions you’ll find for the oc are descriptions of my own body and how i see it when i look at myself in the mirror. i just want everyone to know, YOU ARE PERFECT! you are beautiful and loved and you shouldn’t worry about if you fit the standards of people around you. if you don’t fit YOUR standards, that’s what matters. if YOU want to cause change, go for it! but don’t allow others to make you feel the need to change, because you are lovely as you are!!! i love your big thighs and tummy that causes a little bulge if you wear high wasted jeans. i love your smile and your messy hair with split ends. i love your boobs!! (that sounds bad im sorry) and theyre NEVER too big or too small. don’t be ashamed to wear extra big bras or extra big clothes and don’t get yourself down. i love you :)

tw: unhealthy body image

w: softer smut (meaning it isn’t entirely complete and has an open ending for ur imagination), praise, big-bodied reader (so the descriptions during smut are to fit her body so it might be hard to imagine yourself as her), jealous reader, you might dislike this reader because she has a lot of insecurities but tbh i find her realistic lmfao, body worship, jaem is like legit hottest painter ever pls, sexual tension is real oml, slow, unprotected bc like jaemin cum inside is so hot i cry every time, very long but it didnt need to be, i havent written in months pls be nice this might be awful

ok just to like clarify, im still trying to get back into smut so this is more of an easing into it? its quite long and most of it is just story + teasing, sorry to leave anyone hanging :( i just wanna kinda ease back into it, but i still think this is pretty hot tbh lmao

jaemin’s good at painting.

you recognized his talent the day you met him; varying shades of pink and purple mixing with the bright yellow shades and orange hues that created a beautiful sunset. you’d seen it on his canvas that he was carefully dragging up the stairs of the sweet and small cafe across from your college.

then, you saw that same colorful piece strung proudly on the wall behind your favorite table, or well, your now favorite table.

your favorite ever since the painting had been placed there.

he’s gifted; has a talent that few have and/or ever will have within their lifetime, regardless of practice. the saying might be practice makes perfect, but you know no amount of practice will make a painter as perfect as jaemin is.

his brush strokes are soft, yet precise, and he blends color effortlessly. in all your combined hours of watching him work, you’ve never once seen him make a mistake. all of his work turns out perfect, breathtaking, and you’re never not in awe of his abilities.

today, however, you’ve discovered a new talent of his.

body painting.

something you never thought you’d be interested in, yet here you are, watching as his brush draws elegant lines across the toned stomach of his model. her breasts are on full display and while you’re fascinated by the scene, you can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy underneath.

her face remains blank, eyes closed in relaxation and body completely still aside from the occasional ticklish twitch. you wonder how she remains so effortlessly composed, even while knowing that such a beautiful man has his hands so close to every area she typically hides from the outside world, and his eyes darting across every expanse of beautiful pale skin.

not to mention, her body is beautiful, and this is something you cannot deny. she has thicker thighs, though still remaining on the smaller side. her arms are small, but laced with some muscle from her obvious workout routine. her stomach has little fat, though still enough to remind prying eyes that she is, in fact, healthy and eating well. she has perky breasts, but they’re smaller and more fitting to her form, with tiny nipples that stand right up every time jaemin’s brush dances over her chest.

and her face- oh, her face. plump lips and rosy cheeks, hazel eyes, deep brown hair pushed back into a low bun that leaves a few stray strands to frame her face.

jealousy.

there’s that twinge again.

the feeling of anger and envy and desperation all mixed into one, laced thickly with insecurity. insecurity because you know- you know you’ll never compare to her model physique.

korean beauty standards are tough, and yet, that girl seems to fit all of them without trouble. however, as you glance down at your stomach, seeing the bulge in your shirt from where the lower half of your abdomen juts out and rests over the band of your jeans, tears fill your eyes. you know you have big thighs, thighs that shake and jiggle and erupt a loud pop! when you slap them. you know you have sunken eyes from lack of sleep and overwhelming anxiety and puffy cheeks. you know your hair has split ends and is unevenly cut at some lengths, and you know your breasts are larger than others.

you wish you didn’t think like this, but when allowed time to think and remain trapped in your own head for long enough, you have no choice. you don’t fit the standards, you don’t fit jaemin’s standards, and you doubt you fit the standards of anyone in the world.

you hadn’t been paying attention for the remainder of jaemin’s session- not that you wanted to- and had begun to drift off. soon enough, when you heard jaemin and his model begin to converse quietly, almost as if they were trying to make sure you couldn’t hear, you figured your mind was slowly killing you and simply murmured out need fresh air, before you were scurrying out of the room.

there was something unsettling about being in love with an artist. someone that could find beauty in everything and anything, and make the best out of the worst situation.

but when being in love with an artist, among several other insecurities, one always lingered longer than others.

could he find the beauty in you?

if jaemin did feel the same way about you as you felt about him, could he find a way to fix the imperfections? could he repair the broken image you’d been looking at in the mirror for years? could he find a way to mend all the pain, close all the wounds, and top off the scars with pretty, punctual bows as opposed to what you had now: ragged and mangled skin?

of course, it’s all hypothetical, and it all comes back to two questions. could he love you? could he find the beauty in you?

could he love someone incapable of loving themself, and find the beauty in something that has been left out to rot and rust? the beauty even you cannot seem to find, regardless of how many times you attempt to.

you didn’t realize you were shivering. the air was frigid and windy, and you were sure your cheeks had turned a rosy pink due to the exposure. you felt a cough bubble up in your throat and hugged yourself tighter, eyes staring up at the sky.

if jaemin were here, he’d call the sky his blank canvas.

too bad he isn’t- too bad his attention is on the girl with a perfectly sculpted body and a pretty face, and an even prettier voice; and you were sure she had a pretty laugh and a pretty personality to top it off.

jealousy.

“i can’t escape it, can i…” you murmur quietly, referring to the burning feeling blossoming in your gut. a feeling that was traveling through your veins like blood and spreading to every place in your body like wildfire- until it reached your fingertips and you wished you could do something with it.

when you heard his voice, however, it practically fizzled out and you were left frozen once again, lips quivering.

“awfully cold out,” he says, that wistful tone to his voice he seemed to always have. you felt a jacket being placed over your shoulders, and your heart further sank at the idea that it might not fit if you were to attempt to actually wear it.

“you should head back inside, don’t want your pretty face damaged by the cold.”

when hd noticed you weren’t returning his stare, he gently, hesitantly, reached a hand out and cupped your cheek opposite of him. then, as softly as he could, he tugged the skin until you were leaning into his touch, finally meeting his eyes.

“what’s wrong, cherry blossom?”

cherry blossom.

the nickname he’d given you once he discovered your favorite tree- and later created several pieces of art that now adorned your bedroom. the pretty pink petals falling down onto the bright green grass, matched with soft handwriting that read a cherry blossom for my cherry blossom on the bottom.

“she’s pretty,” you muttered, almost disdainfully. you felt awful. here you were, hating on a girl because she was pretty. because no matter how sweet she might be, it doesn’t change the fact that she’s pretty and you don’t think you are- envy has you wrapped around its’ evil finger. “don’t you think?”

“who’s pretty?” jaemin asks curiously, a comforting hand tracing circles into your back.

you withheld a scoff, feeling tears of frustration prick at your eyes. your brown eyes; eyes no match for the beauty of her hazel ones.

“the girl you were painting,” you murmur sadly, trying to ignore the familiar twinge eating away at you.

you didn’t want to compare yourself to the girl, but you couldn’t help it. it happened without you even realizing, and once you figured out what was happening, you were far too gone and the feeling had invaded your mind long enough to twist the facts.

jaemin hums, watching your expression closely.

“well yes, she is pretty,” and once your face falls and your eyes drop to your shoes at his confession, he shakes his head, “but so are you.”

“while she might be the art i painted today, you’re the art i admire every day,” he says slowly, tugging you into his chest. you feel pride swelling in your chest and the tears in your eyes soon turned to tears of indescribable happiness.

“don’t let the fact that i painted her get to your head, yeah?” he whispers, “i really didn’t even look at her unless it was to make sure the piece blended together.”

“she’s just so perfect…” you whimper sadly, “and i guess she just made me realize- well i just felt so ugly next to her.”

you felt a kiss on the top of your head, making your eyes close in content.

“you are not ugly, cherry blossom.”

while you weren’t entirely sure if this entire conversation was a confession of sorts or just friendly reassurance, you didn’t want to overthink it. his words pierced your heart in all the right ways- and you really didn’t want to mess it up.

—

you hadn’t seen jaemin do any more body painting work- or even mention the topic- in a month. he seemed so passionate about it, so his sudden disinterest was shocking to you.

of course, you appreciated it considering you were his assistant and ended up watching him work 99% of the time.

but, still, you did worry deep down.

what if you crushed one of his dreams with your own selfish insecurities?

you still remember when he came running into your apartment with a book on body painting, rushing to explain the art. you really hadn’t understood a word he said at the time, too invested in admiring that one look he always adorned when he was obsessed with something.

and obsession that you envied at the time- could he ever be that obsessed over you?

at some point, could you fill his mind like he filled yours? invade his senses like he invaded your own? if you had one aspiration in your entire lifetime, this would be it: wishing to be someone’s- no, not just anybody’s, you wanted to be na jaemin’s obsession.

a feat that definitely isn’t simple or easy, for that matter.

“have you seen my thin brush?” jaemin suddenly screeches, running into the living room of his (practically yours, too) apartment. “the small one with the angled tip and black bristles?”

your mind blanked. you glanced around at the coffee table, the end tables, and the television stand before scratching your head, “not that i can recall, no.”

“shit,” he cursed, scratching his neck anxiously, “need that brush.”

“okay, this might sound stupid,” you begin, your words slow, “but do you have any extras?”

he shakes his head sadly, as if you’ve scolded him for something he promised he’d do, and later forgot about. “it’s the only brush i didn’t buy an extra of. i always keep it on my desk i didn’t think- i didn’t believe i could lose it!”

“hey, it’s alright, okay?” you whispered, raising from your spot on the couch to approach him in hopes of comforting the clearly confused and upset boy, “i’ll help you find it.”

he looked up at you, his chest heaving from panic-stricken breaths and he frowned, “yeah, yeah- okay.”

with one final comforting pat on the shoulder, you set out to jaemin’s painting room to try and find the brush. you knew which one he was talking about with the descriptions, but if it’s the same you think it is, it’s incredibly small- which will undoubtedly make it tough to find.

in the painting room, as you call it, things look… normal. just like any other painter’s workspace.

jaemin has a board to display his sketches; all hanging up by a tack and some of the pieces are scattered at odd angles. his floor is covered in tarps to protect the wood beneath, and you take note of the paint stains adorning the white material that made loud noises with every step. he had a massive canvas resting against the furthest wall, with varying shades of colors being messily thrown against the piece. perhaps that messy feel was the very thing that made it artistic in his eyes. glancing around, you noticed how every wall had little space on it, instead covered with pieces of his own work and the work of his favorite artists. then, he had a giant table shoved against the wall. there was a case laying open on top, showcasing all of his different brushes; and next to it, an array of paint tubes and cans. even more paint was beneath the table, stacked until it was touching the wood. finally, against the other wall, was his desk. the chair was pulled out at an angle, one you imagined he sat at to think, rather than be crammed up against his desk. stacks of unfinished sketches were lazily strewn around, with a few brushes between the pages. you checked each of them in hopes that the missing brush was here all along, yet you came up empty handed.

while jaemin’s desk was intriguing- well, the entire room was intriguing; all messy and yet still organized in a way only he could understand- you found yourself more interested in one of his sketches. it was another body painting sketch, but this one was… different. the figure had bigger hips and thicker thighs, large breasts, a softer circular face, with a slightly defined jawline, and her tummy was jutting out just enough for you to know: she was you.

jaemin was drawing you.

something about it made you happy, yet sad at the same time. he’d drawn all your flaws, hadn’t he? the lack of a thigh gap, the big belly, the bigger than usual breasts; everything that you were insecure about, jaemin had noticed.

in fact, he seemed to have perfectly mimicked the details. something about the situation made your eyes water sadly.

“you weren’t supposed… to see that,” jaemin sighs, eyes darting nervously across the room. you turn your head to look at him, blinking back tears. “it’s just a sketch i had for some body painting i just- i don’t know, i never finished it.”

“i was gonna ask you before that night but then i realized you probably wouldn’t want to do it.”

confidence was something you lacked, in here, standing across from jaemin in this moment, you felt like you could shrink. so it was true, he had been painting you? it was your body he imagined on full display for him as he painted, and it was your body he made adjustments for to fit, to encourage confidence and comfort.

confidence wasn’t your friend, however, jealousy most certainly was. if you didn’t take him up on his offer, would that pretty girl return to be painted again? would the art meant for your body fit hers as well as jaemin had planned for it to fit you? would it perhaps… fit her even better?

“i’ll do it,” your own voice is unrecognizable to you; raspy in anticipation and shaky from fear. “i’ll be your model, jaemin.”

his face flushed pink and he averted his gaze, scratching at the back of his neck nervously. “are you sure? it’s a lot of pressure-“

never again would you let pretty girl be jaemin’s model. never.

“i’m sure,” you said, a bit too eager.

“alright, well, we can plan a date and time, let me just grab my calendar-“

it was almost sinful how badly you wanted to be bare in front of your best friend. the best friend you desperately wished to be your lover, the best friend that also happens to be your boss, and the best friend you couldn’t live without.

this won’t change that, right?

you failed to think any further, beginning to slip out of your jacket and beginning to hastily pull the bow from the top of your blouse. with his back turned as he rummaged through his desk for a notebook, you only had one prayer running through your mind: hopefully jaemin doesn’t hate you for stripping down.

“i have an opening on the 12th, the 18th, and the 19th,” jaemin says, turning around, “the times are pretty close but i can try to move things around and adjust it to your n-“

“ah…”

his breathy little whisper has you frozen to the ground, eyes trained on the blue paint stain on the tarp beneath you. a baby blue, one you could get lost in and pretend as if you weren’t down to nothing but a bra and your fiery red underwear.

nervously, you scratched at the skin of your arm and painfully dug your fingers into the skin. he could see you- albeit not all of you- and you were completely open to his judgment.

“what about right now?” you murmured, eyes flitting up to meet his piercing stare.

they were respectful, remaining trained on your face and only your face- something you realize just how much you appreciated in the current moment. however, his stare was strong, yearning, and you found yourself looking right back down at the ground.

jaemin took a slow step forward, then another, and another, and each step made your body jump nervously and your heart beat erratically. it was only when a shadow cast itself upon that baby blue splotch on the floor did you peel your eyes back up.

at first, you avoided his eyes. you stared at his pretty cheeks, his neckline, his cute nose, and even his lips (which you got far more lost in than you care to admit).

then, as if he had discovered your tactic, he put a comforting hand under your chin and demanded you to look up with one gesture.

his eyes were soft. sweet melodies mixing with cherry blossom trees and their falling petals stared down at you, like a scene brought forth from a movie. it played in his eyes, slowly at first, then with a faster pace, and soon enough, you’d been sucked into the movie he’d created with just a glance.

dark brown met your orbs, swirling with curiosity and fear, before the tidal wave ensued and you felt like you were drowning.

drowning in him.

“can i paint you, cherry blossom?” jaemin asked sweetly, but the sultry tone in his voice had you weak in the knees. you tried not to overthink it, but the question was swirling with meanings unbeknownst to you, and the potential knowledge of it all had you excited for what was to come.

your response came out at a quiet whisper, so low that you worried if he even heard it to begin with, “yes.”

one of his hands wandered down to your hip, comfortingly tracing circles into the skin. his finger trailed up, erupting a flurry of tingles from the point. you shivered at the sensation, swallowing thickly. his finger went up and up until it ran into the fabric of your bra, and both of you stilled.

“can i take this off?” he asked, breath fanning your face. instinctively, your hand came up to his wrist and squeezed, using him as your anchor to earth- so you didn’t float away because of the bliss he never failed to give you.

nodding meekly, you felt yourself freeze when his fingers raised to toy with your bra straps. it was like he was playing with you; him the predator and you the prey; as he pulled the straps away from your skin and let them smack back against you. it was a shock of electricity and you hummed quietly.

once he deemed his toying sufficient enough, his hands finally ghosted over the back of your bra until they found the clasp in the back. he sent you one final look before you felt his hands tug at the back- and all in one motion, your bra was slipping off your shoulders and down your arms.

he helped the piece of clothing to come off, fingers softly pulling the black straps until it hit the floor with a soft thud.

your eyes remained locked with jaemin’s, preventing his eyes from wandering to the exposed skin of your chest- which, at the given moment, you were dying to cover with your arms.

jaemin took a hesitant step back before turning, heading over to his desk to look at his sketch. he grabbed a container of pink paint and reached over for a thicker brush, twirling it between his fingers as he approached you once again.

the tube made a loud noise when he squeezed it (something you actually appreciated considering it relieved some of the ill feeling that came with the awkward, tension-filled silence) and he applied a bit of the pink paint to the tip of his brush.

you expected it to be cold and uncomfortable, but you were pleasantly surprised once the brush touched the soft skin of your stomach. it was a sensation you’d never felt before, but you breathed in a surprised gasp. it was ticklish at first, the uneven feel of the differing bristle length rubbing against your skin and making you shiver.

you didn’t forget about one of jaemin’s hands on your waist. his hand was big, perfectly cupping your hip and you couldn’t help but look at your position as something more. him leaning into you, eyes darting across your skin as he painted colors upon you. one of his hands cupping you, squeezing on occasion, and fingers thrumming to their own little beat.

it was when he began to paint the skin beneath your breast that things got more heated than you expected. he’d switched to a thinner brush now, purple paint glistening on the tip before he put it to your skin. it was the eye contact he maintained while tracing the underneath of your chest; it was the feel of his breath against your face; it was how your stomach churned uneasily every time you thought about him near you- all of it, it all contributed.

you felt like you were nearing a frenzy. the need to taste his lips on yours, the need to feel his hands- not that stupid little brush- on your skin, the need to feel him in an intimate way you’ve only ever dreamed about with him; you were going crazy.

then, he switched to bare hands, and you knew he knew. he had figured you out by now, you were sure.

dots of yellow paint littered his fingertips and he felt even closer to you than you thought he was previously; close enough to touch if you were only to lean forward just the tiniest bit.

“tell me to stop,” he murmurs, finger beginning to trail circles into the skin of your abdomen. trailing upward in swirling motions before finally, his nail began to scratch sensually at your breast, and yellow painted over pink and purple. “tell me to stop and we end this right now.”

it was like he was begging. voice small and quiet, a desperate hint lacing his tone.

“don’t stop,” you said; the first thing you were confident about in months. you didn’t want him to stop, not now, not ever.

passion.

that’s what kissing jaemin was like. at first, his lips had hovered dangerously close to your own, tempting you to just pucker your own and kiss him. before you could do it, however, he had you under his spell and your lips were trapped against his own. his tongue had completely taken over you, molding with your own before he had you twisted in the feel of him, tangled in him like he was a live vine.

he made you breathless, every emotion mixing with the other until you were falling into him, hands desperately clawing at his neck, his cheek, his chin, until you were sure you’d colored him in your own paint of red marks.

“god,” he murmured against your lips, and finally, he pressed you flush against him. you knew you were covering him in paint and you could feel your breasts push up against his chest, but for once, you didn’t mind.

you felt good. he felt good. everything about the situation felt so fucking good.

“so perfect,” jaemin says softly, squeezing the flesh of your hip. he backed you up until you were against the paint table, shoving his collection of brushes to the side (which, considering he was missing one of his most important brushes, was a pretty big deal) and helping you jump up and onto the newly cleared space.

his hands roamed to your thighs as your lips connected once more, and a surprised gasp was swallowed by him once he slapped your thigh gently. lips traveling to kiss the expanse of your neck, he began whispering against you. you could hardly hear him over your own breathy little sounds, but the words went straight to your heart.

“prettiest girl.”

“so beautiful.”

his hands traced shapes on your thighs, “best thighs. love your thighs- god, i fucking love your thighs.”

you whimpered needily, grasping at his hair.

when he pushed you back against the table, encouraging you to lay down, you somewhat panicked internally at the knowledge that you’re actually about to be bare in front of him, on display for him to judge- or maybe admire.

when he doesn’t do either of those, instead leaning down to kiss down your body, a part of you is conflicted. you’re grateful he didn’t stare because that means he didn’t openly judge you. but at the same time, you wanted his admiring gaze upon your body.

however, he did something much better than that.

applying tiny, sweet little kisses to every inch of skin he crossed, including your breasts, he whispered a praise about everything- and, slowly, you felt yourself relax as your insecurities faded away.

“so soft,” he whispered, referring to your skin.

“do you have any idea how much these drive me crazy?” jaemin nearly growls, raising both hands to cup and squeeze your boobs as he dotted the area with soft, open-mouthed kisses.

you were experiencing an all new high.

tears thickly lined your eyes and sweet wispy moans left your lips. everything was overwhelming, and you were acutely aware of every touch on your skin. his tongue that would occasionally dart out to wet your skin (which he would later blow cool air on and make you shiver). his pillowy lips that danced over your body and left purple marks in their wake. his fingers that dug into your hips and tugged you impossibly closer to him, and snuck their way against your panty line to feel the soft material he’d yet to remove.

“pretty little tummy,” he said softly, gently kissing your stomach until you felt like the butterflies were going to eat you alive from the inside out. his menstruations were sinful, yet his words so pure and innocent.

something you had to remind yourself jaemin was far from.

every time he returned to your lips, you could feel his bulge rub against your clothed pussy and you wanted to scream; to grab hold of him and force him to do what you wanted- needed most.

yet you remained as patient as you could, your fingers drumming idly against his shoulders as a form of distraction.

“you know how long i’ve wanted you, cherry blossom?”

the name seemed so sweet prior, now it was laced with something more. something dark and lustful- something you were beginning to like.

you shook your head in response to his question, feelings his lips attach to the skin of your neck. you leaned your head back and allowed access. with his new angle, he began to nip and bite at your neck, taking your breath away.

“so long,” he nearly whined, pressing himself against you, “can i show you?”

“please…” you cried, grabbing him by his paint-stained shirt and taking his lips with your own greed.

you were grateful you had kissed him, you really were. because the boy was faster than you ever imagined he could be, swiping down your underwear with one swift, easy pull. his pants took a bit longer to free him from, but once he finally did, you had never been more excited for something in your life.

with all of his sweet gestures and his prior praise, your body was practically begging for him. arousal pooled in the underwear that lay discarded in the far corner of the room, and it took moments for jaemin to swipe his hard member against your pussy to gather your wetness.

his fingers played with your opening, slowly easing in and out in the hopes of preparing you for him- and damn was he glad he did, because the string of unending noises you let out in response was nothing short of music to his ears.

“need you,” you whimpered, biting back a moan. “please.”

with that begging look in your eye, who was he to say no? he kissed you hard, passionately, roughly- something you’d always dreamed of, and yet, it paled in comparison to the real thing.

and finally, with a strangled groan, did jaemin slip inside your heat.

what a dream come true.

[stitchthesewords]

👀

(give me ur best shot with this belle >:D)

HEHEHEHEHEHEHHE You geeeeet a Clethubs scene!

Taglist and story below the cut

Bdubs took a deep breath. The cool chainmail of his half veil was like holding a glacier to the dark hickey on his neck, partially concealed by his coat. His robe. His moss. He was, alarmingly, unable to tell if it was a fashion piece or a part of him anymore. The hallways echoed under his feet. The servants of the Crastle were all asleep, which was good for him. It wasn’t like his relationship with the king was some big secret – he wasn’t Martyn, but he didn’t want to deal with the looks he got when there was a clear and visible marking of it.

The door to his bedroom greeted him with a creak on its hinges and he sighed, gazing at them. It felt like the whole thing was starting to come apart already. As he brought his gaze back to the foreground, he was not surprised to find Etho lounging in the armchair by his fireplace. Bdubs had chosen that armchair specifically for him. The door creaked again on its way to shut behind him and he made his way over, throwing himself over top of where Etho was writing. Or drawing. Bdubs liked to call it doodling and Etho liked to call it schematics.

“The king done with you for the day?” Etho asked, leaning down to kiss Bdubs through his mask. Bdubs pouted, but he noticed Etho’s eyes were on a different part of the room. When he followed, he noticed Cleo laid out on his bed, waiting for him to turn his attention to them.

“Took you long enough to figure out I was here,” they said. Bdubs squawked and fumbled his way from Etho’s lap, straightening out his clothes as he came to a stop. No matter how long the three of them had been at this game, Bdubs would never get used to both their attentions being on him.

Bdubs was very certain of his relationships – Cleo, Etho, Ren, Impulse – very certain indeed. And he knew whatever Ren and Cleo had going on was not romantic in the slightest. It was more like watching a cat play with a meal before letting it go again. Impulse was, for obvious reasons, not connected with the people in the Crastle, and some part of Bdubs stomach always twisted a little when he thought of how Ren might react to that. Whatever Etho and Cleo had going on, however, was a mystery to him. He could never tell if they were rivals, opposite suitors, or maybe even just…bashful about one another. He never saw them so much as hold hands, but both of them assured him they were ‘more than just friends’. Whatever that meant to them, Bdubs had no clue.

“Warn a guy if you’re going to both camp out in his bedroom!” he shouted, stomping where he stood. The dual laughter made his cheeks heat up and his face crinkle a bit.

“’Your most private of areas’ as I think Ren’s taken to calling it?” Cleo said with a laugh.     They sat up on the bed and crossed their legs. “I wasn’t planning on staying long anyway. Got statues to build, raw meat to eat for dinner.”

Bdubs still sputtered regardless and crossed his arms, turning away from both of them. Cleo snorted and that was a lovely noise, frankly.

“Cleo and I were just talking about some defensive plans for the Crastle, actually,” Etho said, picking up his pen from his notebook and stashing both away.

“Since when do you care about the Crastle?” Bdubs asked.

“Since always,” came Etho’s smooth reply, though there was a look in his eyes. Impulse. Cleo didn’t know about Impulse either.

The two of them were quiet for long enough that Cleo scoffed to get their attention. “If the two of you are done making heart eyes and drooling over each other,” they said, finally rising from the bed. In a few steps, they made their way to Bdubs, Standing over him well enough to use him as an arm rest. They didn’t, this time, but they did lean down and, arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders, kiss his cheek. “I’ll be going now. Good night Bdubs, Etho,” they said, before limbering out of the room.

@atherix @braxiatel @greatbridge @ellalily @lesbianwilby @em-mermaid @loombarrow