#I do need to top up her soil a bit

[prince-liest]

HOLY SHIT YOU STILL HAVE THE WAX PLANT

HELL YEAH BAYBEEEEE

I love this plant very much tbqh. She's not doing the absolute best because I was definitely overwatering her for a long time, and I also had no idea about how much light she needs, so she's never actually flowered, but my recent descent into orchid and violet addiction has prompted me to look into general proper plant care, so I'm hoping to get her up to better shape soon! Either way, she's not doing all that poorly, either. I've got her in a well-lit nook now, and will be watering much more reasonably, haha. She's actually still in the original pot, but I read that they handle repotting pretty poorly, so I'm holding off on that for now since the roots aren't too crazy, especially since she hasn't grown all that much in the past years.

The planting date on her pot says December 5, 2018, hahaha.

(The splash plant you gave me unfortunately did die, but I do still have the pot it was originally in! I have a nerve plant now that's similarly dramatic and I'm doing my best to take better care of it, haha.)

[misserabella]

the farmer’s daughter

dbsf! abby x fem! reader

summary; abby knew it was wrong to like you. you were her best friend’s daughter. but she couldn’t help it.

cw; +18 minors dni!, reader isn’t shy!!!, nudity, body worshipping, kissing, begging, tit and nipple play, oral sex (r receiving), praise, use of nicknames instead of y/n, hair pulling…

she knows she shouldn’t. you’re her best friend’s daughter. but she couldn’t help herself.

it was a hot july afternoon. the sun was bathing her freckled skin and broad exposed shoulders. sweat was running down her face in salty droplets that she swiped away before they could reach her sky blue eyes.

she had been helping her best friend for hours on his farm, soiling the ground for the autumn and helping him out with some oil and tire changes for his truck.

“some lemonade?”

and there you were. in your denim short jumpsuit with just a mere bikini underneath. you were a sight for sore eyes. with tanned skin exposed for her hungry ones.

“thanks honey.” you father gave you a smile as he took one of the glasses being offered, gulping down the sweet iced lemonade.

“thanks.” abby said, taking the other, and you gave her a nectar grin.

“i’m going to the lake for a little bit with laura.” you informed your father, who nodded.

“okay, you two be careful out there, yeah? don’t wantcha drowning.” he ordered in his deep accent. you snickered.

“i would never.” you gave her a soft kiss on his sweaty cheek. “good luck with your truck!” you quickly waved as you ran towards the field, where your friend was waiting for you, towels in hand.

abby watched you go, your beautiful hair waving against the wind and shining under the sun. what she’d do for a kiss of your lips…

“sweet isn’t it?” you father inquired, tasting the lemonade you’d made for them, although abby was not really thinking about the lemonade when she answered.

“yeah. real sweet.”

-

when you got back to your house, your father was nowhere to be seen.

abby was in the kitchen, drinking a cold beer to fight the warmth of the summer.

you were dripping wet, your clothes and towel hanging on your arm as your drenched hair let droplets fall onto the skin of your chest.

“where’s dad?” you inquired, leaving your things on the kitchen table and opening the fridge, bending over to retrieve some lemonade.

“went out to the market. said he needed to buy some stuff.” she said, her eyes roaming your body; the arch of your back, the nipples poking through the top of your bikini, your perfect little ass… abby gulped down another mouthful of her beer, feeling the heat of the summer on her throat.

you hummed. “probably ingredients for dinner. he’s been craving my meatloaf.” you smiled at her, jar in hand.

you took a glass and poured some of the lemonade in it, hurriedly gulping it down in a frenzy. desperate.

abby seemed amused. “thirsty?” you hummed, finishing down your drink and spilling some of it down your chest. if your skin would be sweet before, now it could make her teeth rot.

“it’s so hot outside.” you gasped. abby’s eyes followed the droplets as they found your cleavage.

she shook her head, taking a cloth from the counter to walk over you and press it against your chest. “so clumsy…” you looked up at her, into her ocean eyes, feeling your heart beat faster at her closeness. abigail anderson, your father’s best friends since you could remember. 6,3ft of pure muscle and inches of blonde braided hair that reminded you of the wheat your father reaped. she was strong, kind, intelligent and really, really attractive. your eyes roamed her face, the scar on her left cheek, the little freckles that have shown on her nose due to the sun, her long eyelashes, her supple pink lips…

“sorry…” you muttered, unconsciously biting on your bottom one. her eyes followed the motion, quickly returning to your eyes.

she pulled away, clearing her throat. “you’re drenched.” she said. “your father would kill you if he saw you wetting the floor.” you chuckled.

“you’re right.” and that’s when a glorious idea came to your mind. you turned around pulling your hair to your front to expose the laces of your neck and back. “do you mind?” you looked over your shoulder at her, and abby frowned. before she realized what you wanted her to do.

“oh… sure.” she said with a cough, coming up from behind you. you felt your skin rose in goosebumps when her fingertips graced your skin, holding onto the strings of the bow of your back before slowly pulling. she gulped. slowly undoing it. you took a deep breath, standing still, your heart deafening. once it’s strings were hanging by your sides, abby slowly moved to the one surrounding your neck. the time she took to get it undone seemed to stretch out. abby’s tongue wetted her lips. she could feel her stomach churning, her hands shaking. you felt the top fall. you didn’t even bother to catch it, letting it slide down your navel, exposing your supple breasts and perky nipples.

you slowly turned once again, the piece of clothing abandoned at your feet. and abby felt like she couldn’t breath, faced with your nudity. with your beautiful exposed skin. your cheeks were reddish under her gaze. you felt small and delicate under it. as if you could break. maybe you wanted it.

“what are you doing?” she breathed out, her throat dry.

“you don’t like it?” you muttered, and she quickly let you know it was nothing like that.

“no, no… it’s just…” she sighed. “you shouldn’t be… we shouldn’t be…” but again, you were looking at her with those pretty doe eyes, offering yourself in a silver platter for her to devour. and abby was a weak woman. “fuck it.” she growled, shortening the distance that stood between the two of, cupping your plush cheeks with her warm hands to bring your lips to hers. it was devastating. how they felt. soft. sweet and sour.

you hummed, your back arching against her as you got on your tiptoes to reach her lips. she tasted like beer, and cigarettes, salty due to the sweat that coated her skin. fresh pines engulfed your senses as you pulled on her braided locks. her tongue pressed against your lips in invitation, and you opened up for her, moaning on her mouth. she pressed against you until you were against the kitchen counter, her hands leaving your face to slowly drift down your neck to your shoulders, elbows, hips, and lastly your thighs, pulling you up the cold surface. you gasped as it made contact with your skin. or maybe it was her hands on your waist, the same hands that now were hungrily kneading at your breasts, fingers tweaking your hardened nipples. you whimpered when she left your lips, her mouth leaving wet kisses down your neck.

“abby…” you breathed out, her name tasting like honey on your lips. “please.” it was as if your words had power over her, one simple plea and she was down on her knees for you, dying to worship you like some kind of god. you stared at her from above, as she looked at you through her blonde lashes. her hands were on top of your thighs, shaking in need to touch you in places no one has ever touched you before.

you opened your legs for her. a silent invitation as your hands went to the strings of your bikini bottom, pulling at the laces on your hips until it was loose, barely hiding you from her. but not for long, ‘cause you were pulling at the piece of clothing to drop it on the floor, where your top laid.

“fuck…” the blonde cursed at the sight of you, at the sight of your sticky folds, exposed twitching leaking hole and your puffy reddish clit. the next curse that filled the air came from your lips as her own wrapped around that throbbing bundle of nerves, her hands pushing your thighs over her strong exposed shoulders for a better angel.

“shit, abby… yes, just like that, please…” your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your jaw falling slack as a pant left your lungs. her tongue was hungrily lapping at your slick, she was starved, yet slow. she wanted this moment to last, maybe for ever. your fingers pushed in between her golden locks, tugging her closer and making her groan.

“ hmm god.” she hummed. “taste so good, baby…” there were fireworks behind your eyelids as your back arched. this was heaven, and you were a sinner for wanting her this bad. abby didn’t mind being one too.

you’re sweet as honey as you drip down her chin, as one of her fingers sink inside of you and you let out this moan that makes her believe you’re certainly an angel if not a god. something holy you must be. for her to push aside the guilt that making you hers brings down her shoulders, that sinks her down to her knees and makes her forget the fact that you’re her best friend’s daughter.

she crooks it up against your g spot, and the fireworks turn into stars.

abby feels like she’s been locked out of heaven for so long… but now, in between your legs, hearing you moan her name, she feels blessed, pure.

she adds another finger, and the stretch makes you cry out as she sucks on your clit. you’re close. and she knows.

“abby, i’m gonna… please don’t stop, please…”

and even if she wanted, she couldn’t. she wouldn’t. not when you beg her. when you plead so sweetly it’s making her rot.

“cum for me, honey. cum for me.” she looks drunk on you, pupils blown, lose strands of her hair sticking to her forehead and lips swollen and shiny on your slick.

and something you do is give it to her. in between moans and cries and whimpers you spill inside her mouth, body shaking in ecstasy.

and abby drinks it all up. scared. terrified. terrified that this would be the last time she will get to taste something as holy as you.

-

a/n; this does not mean my hiatus is over. i just wanted to post something. hope you like it.

[scoutswritingcorner]

Can I request how the Hazbin cast would deal with their partner being afraid of storms?

Storming Troubles

Hazbin Gang x GN!Reader

TW: Fear of storms!

A/N: Female Reader for Vaggie and Male Reader for Angel Dust as always! 

-👑Charlie👑-

-👑 She’s immediately hugging you and telling you how brave you are for telling her. Because telling people in hell about your fear is not always a good thing.

-👑 She’ll do everything in her power to help you. When it starts storming? She’s holding you close.

-👑 Need noise canceling headphones? She’s got you. Just want to be held? Her arms are already open for you!

-👑 Will stay with you the whole night. All in all she’s very understanding and kind.

-🎀Vaggie🎀-

-🎀 Also very understanding! 

-🎀 If she knows it’s going to starting storming later that day? She’s preparing everything for you!

-🎀 Blankets, pillows, your favorite plushies. She’s not complaining. -🎀 It also gets her out of work too for a bit, she’ll hold you all night if it helps!

-🍎Lucifer🍎-

-🍎 I feel like he also has a fear of storms or just doesn’t like them much!

-🍎It reminds him too much of when he fell and how he could hear the roaring winds around him and then the boom when he hit the soil of Hell.

-🍎So when it does happen? He’s got a whole blanket fort full of comfort items and snacks just in case!

-🍎 Big on the cuddles! It comforts him so much and it keeps him grounded when his mind starts to wonder.

-🕷️Angel Dust🩷-

-🕷️ Angel doesn’t mind the rain but when he sees how distraught you were he immediately holds you close.

-🩷 He doesn’t want his boyfriend shaking in fear or crying all night thinking he’s alone. He’ll press kisses to the top of your head and softly whisper to you telling you how brave you are.

-🕷️ If you want to get your mind off of it, he’ll definitely start gossiping or will make you laugh. Either one works. 

-🩷 He will 100% tell Fat Nuggets to “attack” you with Kisses to make you laugh and smile.

-🎰Husk🎰-

-🎰 He loves the rain and storms, it reminds him alot of when he was alive and just watched the rain hit the windows of whatever bar he was in.

-🎰 But when he realizes you are terrified of them? He picks you up and takes you to your shared room for cuddles.

-🎰 He’ll help you take your mind off of it by talking to you or with you! 

-🎰 He purrs loudly while laying on your chest, head in your neck as you slowly drift off. Didn’t you know purring heals the soul? Also his wings drape over you as an additional barrier of protection!

-🦌Alastor🦌-

-🦌 Now this man. He is an asshole, he means well but he’s an asshole.

-🦌 He doesn’t like storms either. But because they can fuck up his broadcast.

-🦌 He’ll let you hide in his room with him as he reads, he’ll hold you close to his side and occasionally kiss your forehead. Also makes snide remarks.

-🦌 His shadow is the one that comforts you the most, it will curl around you and snuggle you all night long while giving your own shadow kisses.

[crystlizabeth]

You belong to me..

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Shadow!femreader

Summery: she may have been a shadow and worked for graves but when your commanders friendliness becomes a bit to touchy it’s a problem, you don’t touch pretty things that belong to Simon Riley.

Warnings: possessiveness, unprotected sex, jealousy, praising, mentions of blood, not proofread

.˚₊‧ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ‧₊˚.

Simon hated watching those shadows touch you, even if it was ‘friendly’. You smiled at every praise that left Graves lips of how you did such a good job, the pat to your back to low for Simon’s liking and the way he let his hand drag as he walked away. Simon couldn’t help but wonder how Graves was towards you when nobody was around, even if he was your commander your superior he wasn’t allowed to touch you like that. Simon clenched his fist as you stood there soon turning towards him, your gaze different a look a smile that was only meant for him displayed on your pretty face.

A sweet face that he’d have buried in a pillow tears go pleasure running down you face. You saw the way his eyes watched you his dark eyes hooded dangerously staring you down. Price catching Simon’s attention was the only thing that made him look away from you, one last glance towards you before following Price.

Even with that gold ring on your finger signafying that you where his, the last name on your Files no longer yours but his. It wouldn’t be enough he wanted you to himself he had begged price multiple times to call a transfer of you to 141 but Graves always declined because you worked for the United States, the Shadows you belonged to Graves.

But jealousy gets the best of everyone right?

Simons hands grabbing the side of Phillips vest slamming him against the wall, “what crawled up your ass and died Lieutenant.” Graves groaned.

“Why is it you always find your hands on my wife.” Simon spoke his face close to Phillips, his voice dark.

An ugly smirk appeared on Phillips face the cocky twat only shrugged his shoulders a short reply “She’s nice, a good asset to me. She is a good asset.”

That right there if he could without geting put away for life would have taken his knife and silt Phillips throat, carving the commander inside out and feed it to his Shadows and Shepherd himself. Instead Ghost fist connected to his face, more than once, enough to leave blood on his hands and the shirt he wore. He let go of Graves letting him slide down the wall, “if you’re smart, you’ll keep your hands to yourself and mouth shut.” Simon spike lowly leaning down to make eye contact with him.

“I don’t see what she sees in you…” Phillip coughed wiping the blood from his nose.

Simon stayed silent, he didn’t need to answer that because you saw him for him he didn’t have to explain what you saw in him to someone who’s been wanting you to themselves. “I’ll give her the world a safe home and face to look at… your really think she’ll stick around you forever, please. I see her more day out of the year you do why do you think I decline those transfers from your captain. Just to spite you and help her forget you.” Phillip said blood dripping from his toothy smile.

Simon was fuming, his knuckles splitting even more from clenching them. Who did graves think he was? You stuck around someone like that, even bleeding and in pain graves still chose to test his limits.

One punch after another Simon was on top of him graves of course fighting back but a man’s rage was different few more punches and he stopped. Phillip was still alive he was gonna leave him there to rot nobody would believe him he was a traitor staying in UK soil this was bound to happen. And even then Simon had proof that it was just self defense.

Grabbing Philips hair making him look up at Him “Ya listen here, stay the fuck off my wife she can work for your or you’ll be smart and start a transfer. But may god help you if you lay a finger on her again.” Simon spoke harshly finishing by pushing Graves against the wall.

The click of your door opening startled you awake, but the figure that stood in the hall light that poured into your room made you less tense. “Simon..you can be in here..” your voice groggy, your eyes scanning over him at yuh turn your light on. He was covered in blood his mask held in his left hand as he looked at you.

You quickly got you closing your door pushing him to the bed sitting him down “who did this to you.. Simon.” You spoke lifting the bloody shirt off his head his blond hair sticking up.

“It’s not mine.”

It’s not his? Who’s was it then, who pushed him over the edge just enough. Was he gonna get in trouble for this, arrested. “Love stop the worrying..” he spoke breaking you out of your thoughts his large hands pulling you towards him.

He pulled you in close sitting you in his lap your thighs falling around his waist, the feeling of his hands grabbing your face made you wince a bit the feeling of dried blood on his hands made you cringe.

“You belong to me..” he spoke his dark eyes penetrating yours. “You belong to me.” His words stern and harsh.

“Say it.”

“I belong to you Simon.” You spoke his hands falling down your face his hands finding the bottom of your shirt lifting it over your head. You could feel the tension radiating of his skin, he was gonna take his stress and the rest of his anger out on you.

“Good girl, say it again, tell me I’m allowed to have you as I please.” He spoke his lips kissing your neck.

You obeyed “ I belong you you Simon, take me. Have me I’m yours.”

His lips met your kissing you so hungrily he was here to remind you who you belonged to. His hand grabbed the band if your panties pulling his hand back harshly snapping them at the pulling them if you your bare cunt exposed to his trousers. He lifted you up dropping your body on the the mattress as he undid his pants, quickly finding himself on top of you.

“Are you sure.”

“Take me Simon, I’m yours.”

That’s all he needed to hear, his fat head spreading your wet folds apart as he pushing into you. It’s been a minute since he’s been in you but your walls always seemed to mold around him so nicely, those gorgeous sounds you made slipping from your lips as he started moving.

The sound of skin slapping as he fucked into your poor cunt, you drooled for him. He knew how to make a mess out of you, your nails digging into his back as he bullied your pretty pussy. Even with every hard thrust he loved you so well, kissing you so tenderly as your cried out to him. You soft whimpers pleading for him drive him crazy this is how he knew you where his, his to destroy, his to love.

Your finger tangled his his blonde curls tugging on them as he made love to you cradling your head your knees pressed to your chest, he felt every inch of you. “Please don’t stop Si, god please don’t stop.” You cried out.

He didn’t the tightness of your walls staring to clamp around him was enough to bring him to his edge the moans that escaped your lips was enough to make him cum knowing that he made you this way. Your body folded into a mating press as you came on his fat cock. Your pleds for him to cum in you, that you wanted him to fill you marking you as his once again make you need him for days after. His thick seed filling up your puffy cunt, his white nut spilling out the sides as he fucked it into you.

“Common take it, yeah atta girl fucking take it.” He growled pumping in and out of you your nails digging into his biceps the feeling of his thick nut filling you making your eyes roll back.

His cock still in you as he sat up letting your legs fall down your chest falling up and down heavily, your body glistening from sweat. You were gonna be walking funny the next morning that’s for sure, “I didn’t hurt you right?” He asks his calluses hands gliding up and down your torso.

You shook your head no, “good..” he said leaning down kissing your lips tenderly.

“Let’s get you cleaned up yeah..”

.˚₊‧ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ‧₊˚.

Simon smut!! I have a Johnny one coming sooner or later!!

[mothiir]

not a request, more of a fun fact because i saw another sanguinius fan here yesterday and i can’t find her blog for the life of me.

supposedly birds, particularly male birds, associate their wings being stroked with sexual stimulation and will become very sexually frustrated if it’s not taken care of. Stroking their wings too often will also cause them to associate you with being a mate instead of a friend or companion, which causes them to be jealous and possessive over you.

do with this information what you will

So what I did with this is write some sanguinius being a wee bit feral but also being the noble boy we love. Also I need to start writing things that aren’t dubcon because why is this the healthiest relationship I’ve written so far

—

—

cw: slightly lewd, implications of violence

—

—

It probably starts off completely by chance: you’re cleaning, and Sanguinius swans into his quarters without noticing you. Even the noblest of the Emperor’s sons will sometimes fail to acknowledge the staff, especially when he is distracted -- and oh, is the poor thing distracted. He’s just had to sit through a four hour meeting -- hosted by Roboute, with the Lion in attendance, and he has been zigzagging between acute boredom and blinding frustration -- and, on top of all of that, he is moulting. He claws his robe off his body, stretching his wings out to their full span. He makes a primal sound of pure satisfaction, contorting his sleek golden body to dig his fingers into his tender flesh, trying to unroot the snarls of not-quite loose feathers. Some come free easily; others snag. He wishes he was in Bhaal, where he could stretch himself out in the hot dry dust, and squirm back and forth, letting the acrid soil scratch the most stubborn of itches. Alas, there is no such amenity here, only -- 

It’s then he notices you, cloth in hand, frozen. At his gaze, you immediately drop to your knees, touch your forehead to the floor. 

“My lord Primarch -- forgive me --”

“Forgive you for what?” he says, lightly. “There is nothing to forgive; you are doing your duty. You are excused -- there is plenty aboard to be cleaned.”

You stand somewhat shakily, twisting the cloth between your hands. “Yes my lord. Of course my lord. It is just --”

You know a little about birds -- enough to recognise the signs of a highly uncomfortable moult. And Sanguinius is not a bird but the greatest man you have ever known, and yet…and yet you cannot help yourself. 

“--I wonder if I could be of assistance? With the uh -- with the pin feathers. The ones that aren’t open, I can see a few -- “

You make an aborted little gesture: fingers closing, as if around an invisible reed, pinching slightly, dragging up. Precisely the way he sees to his own pin feathers, letting the keratin sheathe surrounding them crumble against his grip, freeing the filament within. 

“My mother keeps birds,” you offer, as an explanation, then flush. “Not that you are one, my lord -- not --”

He chuckles at your unease, and settles himself down on his bed, patting the red silk quilt beside him. 

“Come. Assist me, if you are so keen.”

Many quail at the sight of him -- despite what Horus thinks, Sanguinius is more revered than beloved, and the difference between the two is stark -- but you do not. You approach him with downturned eyes, smelling faintly of fear, but you still approach him. 

Your hands are small and swift, deftly opening up the feathers in need of help, leaving the ones not yet ready. You work for hours, until your hands must be cramping from effort, but you do not quibble or complain. You smooth his primaries, straighten them in line with each other; you tug free lumps of down with sharp efficient gestures. Slowly, the itching fades, and with it the frustration. Before Sanguinius quite knows what he is doing, he has sprawled himself back onto the mattress, pulling you with him. You use the new angle to your advantage, reaching under his flank to work at the feathers closest to his wingjoints. 

“There,” you say, just as he feels about ready to drift off. His eyes are half-lidded, and a slight smile curves his lips. “That looks…better. You’re not done moulting yet, but that’s what I can do for now.”

“You’ll return tomorrow,” he says, a request and a command and a question all at once. Your cheeks are wonderfully pink as you nod. He ponders briefly what all that delicious blood would taste like, spilling down his throat, and then shoves the thought to the side. He will not ruin your helpfulness with his hunger. 

The next night, you perform the same job, and the night after that, and the night after that. His moult ends, but he thinks it best that you keep returning: caring for his wings is an important duty, after all, and you are so very good at it. So eager to please.

(A voice that sounds distressingly like Konrad’s says what else would she do to please you, golden one? -- but he ignores that, for he must.)

The problem becomes apparent not during those long late nights as you preen him while he tries to think of anything but how sweet your blood would taste, but in the middle of his ship. He has just led his sons to an astounding victory, coming to the aid of a local governor against a fleet of xenos raiders, and -- as is tradition -- they are celebrating, hosting the Imperium’s great and good aboard the Red Tear. The ballroom they gather in is built to accommodate a Primarch, with a huge arched ceiling, draped with scarlet silk. The walls are festooned with artwork of immense beauty, most painted by the Blood Angels themselves: scenes of battles hard won, golden cities on green hills, birds flying free over great glittering lakes. Sanguinius makes a speech, praising the well-fought battle of the planetary defense force against the raiders -- and meaning every word -- and then retires to a corner to sip his wine and try to relax. He cannot walk amongst the delegates without people dropping to their knees in supplication, so he finds that becoming part of the furniture is the best approach for a restful party for all.

That is when he sees you. You’re wearing the same basic formal outfit all of the serfs wear -- fine scarlet linen, embroidered with gold -- but you’ve altered the wide-legged trousers into a skirt, which swishes around your ankles as you move; a slit halfway up your thigh gives him a tantalizing glimpse of pale flesh, and his mouth goes dry. 

Deep in conversation with one of the proud young soldiers, you’re completely oblivious to Sanguinius’s hungry gaze. At least -- he hopes you is, because you laugh at something your companion says and then he touches your shoulder.

Before he can control himself, Sanguinius crosses the ballroom, picks up the young human and rips him in two, showering you both with a fountain of gore. Your scream stills in your throat, eyes bugging with terror, as he gathers you close, tongue running along your pulsing jugular, claws biting into your flesh as he shreds your garment, intent on claiming you then and there, his mate, his woman, his --

That, of course, is not what happens. What actually happens is that Sanguinius stalks towards you, a beatific smile pasted over his face, and the poor young man immediately steps backwards; his logical mind sees the Primarch, and is awestruck; but his primal lizard brain screams this is a predator you have to run. 

“I will have to steal you away, if you don’t mind,” he says, and of course you do not mind -- because you are his. His woman. His mate. As he steers you out of the ballroom, you confide in a low voice:

“Thank you. He was lovely, but just a little too eager. I think he was all of seventeen!”

Sanguinius knows he should feel ashamed that he had come this close to gutting a child-soldier who had the misfortune of making you laugh, but he doesn’t. He feels a little guilty at his lack of guilt, but that is it. If he had slain the boy it would have been his right, as your lord and master --

No. No. That is not him; that is not how he acts, nor how he behaves. Those impulses come to him for he is a warhawk and a warrior, but he does not act on them because he is not a monster. 

“These parties do get tiresome,” he says, ushering you ahead of him. “I am glad I have you to keep me company while we avoid them.”

You end up back in his bedroom, combing your fingers through his feathers. He melts under your touch, every sinew in his back starting to relax. Soon -- hopefully soon -- he will have you squirming and mewling under him, your legs spread eagerly for him, your tight little body welcoming him deep inside. Soon. When he is sure that you are saying yes because you want to, not because the overwhelming force of his desire is warping your own feelings. When he can trust himself not to hurt you anymore than you want to be hurt. 

Sanguinius can hold tight to his self control for that. For your sake. For his. 

[jyoongim]

Hi, I would like to ask Adam x female reader, him having sex with the reader, his best exterminator

🙏🏽Note: I am not an Adam fan so i dont know how if this is good.

I HATE THIS SO BAD. YALL I CANT I CANT DO IT *sobbing into pillow* you’ll never get another Adam fic from me

Title: His Best

———————————————————————————————-

You smiled as another extermination went successful. No mishaps and everyone was in one piece. The ladies were calling for a celebration and you nodded, there was no need to soil their fun with plans for next year.

A hand was on your shoulder, pulling you from your chatter, Lute. She nodded her head off to the distance, grinning “Report due”

You nodded and flew to where Adam was to give the annual report.

You were THE top exorcist in Adam’s little angelic harem.

You thought Lute was a bad bitch? Ha! She had nothing on you.

Your skills and strategy on demon extermination was always praise worthy, making you rise in rank rather quickly.

The number of kills you racked in every year? 

Legend.

You tried to clean yourself up slightly, wanting to portray some sort of elegance, but knocked at his office door regardless.

”Lute said you wanted the report sir?” You asked as you approached your commander.

Adam smiled at you, leaning his head on his hand ”yea lay it on me Danger Tits”

You stood like a soldier as you gave the report. You reported the number of hellspawns killed, who made the most kills and who needed to improve their combat training. 

You must have been rambling too much because you didn’t even notice you had started to pace and Adam had wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you into him

“Whoa whoa babes! Hey! Relaaaax. Chill out for a bit” he laughed as you frowned, but relaxed against him.

”you know I LOVE when you talk violence babe but for now…”he started to press kisses to your neck

”I thought i should honor my baddest bitch” you hummed as he removed your mask, smiling when he finally saw your beautiful face.

You pulled away to remove your bloody uniform and burst into giggles as Adam pounced on you, picking you up and sitting you on the desk.

Adam wasted no time in slamming his lips on yours as his hands roamed your body.

You moaned into his mouth as one of his hands tweaked your nipples, pinching and tugging at the sensitive nubs.

The other slipped between your legs, softly brushing against your slit.

You tugged at his heavenly robes as he toyed with you.

”ha! But i promised to celebrate with the girls”you faked concern as his lips trailed down your chest to suck a tit into his mouth sighing as his tongue swirled around a nipple.

He let out a low growl, dipping a finger into your warm heat. ”Oh fuck ‘em. They’ll be fine. Lute can handle them”

Your back arched as another finger sunk into you, pulling a shaky moan from your lips.

Your hips grinded against his hand, riding his fingers as you threw your head back “f-fuck!” You cried, the sensation from both his mouth and fingers had your body tingling. 

“Sera is gonna want my re-report so we have to make this quick” you keened as he kneeled down, trailing kisses from your chest to your slippery folds.

Adam ignored your comment, instead he focused on your puffy clit. He flicked his tongue against the bud, eyes watching as your mouth fell open in a soft gasp. You leaned back slightly, spreading your thighs for him as you jutted your hips against his mouth.

He watched your face contort with pleasure as he trailed his tongue from your clit to slit and back. Wrapping his lips around the bundle of nerves and softly sucking, using his tongue to coax more slick from you.

“Quick? Oh babe you deserve way more than a quickie buuut if you insist” he mumbled against your pussy.

He gave your cunt one last lick before standing and turning you over, your feet planted as you leaned over the desk. You wiggled your ass at him teasingly, giggling as he smacked your ass and rubbed the tip of his dick against you.

You swear your eyes sported heart eyes when he sunk his dick into you. “Ooh fuck! Yes!” You cried as he set a rough pace, dick hitting those spots that only he could reach.

Soft grunts and whines filled the room as Adam’s hips slammed against yours fap fap fap bounced on the walls as you trembled beneath the angel.

”Tch I never get tired of this pussy. Best pussy I’ve ever fucked” he huffed. You smirked, looking over your shoulder as you pushed your hips back to meet his thrusts  “better than your wives?”

His cock twitched and he growled, burying his hand in your hair, mushing your cheek into the glass. He angled his hips to dig into your gummy walls making you whine

”much better”

You clawed at the glass as he pounded into your pussy, your legs trembling as they tried to support his brute strength. Your thighs were sticky from your slick and you bristled as you felt the pricks of an orgasm approach.

Adam chuckled as your cunt fluttered, clenching as you grinded your hips against him. “Hehe you gonna cum? Already? I thought i trained you better than that baby” you could hear the grin that he wore on his face.

You didn’t get a chance to make a snarky remark, when he starting rubbing at your clit as he slowed his thrusts so you feel him wreck your walls.

You let out a whimper “p-please let me cum sir”, your wings unfurled from your back, curling around him. Adam used your wings as leverage to bounced you along his dick, making your tongue lull and eyes roll.

”I guess you deserve it after today. Go on baby. Cum all over my dick”

Your body tensed and a high-pitch cry left your lips as you slammed your hips against his, milking him of his own orgasm, grinding into him as your orgasm ripped through you.

You slumped against the desk, wings flapping to keep you up. Adam sighed happily as he pulled his dick out of you and watched as his cum dripped down your leg.

You hissed as he slapped your ass “asshole”

Adam chuckled, kissing your shoulder “I can fuck that too babe”

[nvoirs]

Leon taking the fem reader’s virginty for the first time, but he is an experienced gentleman and the reader is a sweet girl who has been corrupted by the likes of this man. 👀👀

Can you include Praise and body worship please?

I'm so sorry this to so long, I hope you like it <3 Also I apologise if my writing font and style keeps changing I'm just trying to figure out what works best for me.

Leon was every woman's dream man. He had the looks, the charm, the personality you name it. His witty, flirty nature made the ladies giggle and swoon for a matter of fact. So although it had been a good six months since you and him started dating you still questioned yourself as to why he chose you? You were a boring plain Jane, not some glamorous Marilyn Monroe that swept Leon off his feet.

Six months and only kisses remained. Don’t be wronged though, the kisses could be very heated and you loved it. You craved more though, you wanted Leon to touch you lower and lower until-

Snapping out of your trance when you saw Leon himself crouched in front of your hunched over form on the couch.

“Hey, are you good? Looked like you were hypnotised.” He chuckled.

“Yeah, doing fine.” You sighed.

He raised an eyebrow, a quizzical look that basically said you seriously lying to my face?

“Tell me what’s up, promise I won’t laugh.”

To be honest Leon was also getting distracted, not by daily stresses but by yourself. That low cut top you wore was just a little too low, and your lips looked nice and soft, plump and coated in a sparkly peach pink gloss. It took all of his willpower not to take you right then and there. He was aware you still suppressed your virginity, and he did not want to rush you into things you may possibly regret.

“Okay.. Leon, I want to take it to the next stage with you.”

No way did you mean what he thought you meant..

“Yes, I mean sex.” The pinkish blush evident on your cheeks slowly crept up as you squeezed your hands together waiting for an answer head hung low.

“If that’s what my girl wants, I’m going to give it to her.”

Taking your hands in his he guided you to your own bed, slowly pushing you into the soft, foamy mattress. His lips mushing with yours as he sloppily kissed you trying his ever so hardest not to quicken things. He wanted your first time to be special, gosh he was so lucky knowing he was your first.

You bit your lips as you watched from below him, a string of saliva following as Leon broke the kiss. He could taste the peach flavour of your lips, pulling off his t-shirt his naked torso on display for you to gawk at. His incredible build had you in a trance, the way his muscles and biceps flexed deliciously when he leaned back down onto the bed.

“Gonna make you feel so good baby, you hear me? Now lift your legs.”

You complied to his soft request, lifting your legs and hips so he could shimmy of your pj shorts. The cold air hit your thighs but was enveloped in a warmish, wet feeling. His tongue. Leon moved his head towards the apex of your thighs beginning to gently kiss them before moving to the inner thigh. He looked at you before diving down to place a flurry of ticklish open mouthed kisses before sinking his teeth into one thigh.

You jolted at the sudden change in demeanour it felt surprisingly good sending a shock straight to your now throbbing core. His nose nuzzled against the cotton of your underwear, right on the soiled part that had been stained by your arousal oozing itself out of your sensitive cunt.

“Smells s'good, can I take this off for you sweetheart?” The string of desperate whines were all Leon needed to know that yes you did want it. Taking his sweet time pulling down your panties completely off and staring at your glistening treasure. So wet and aroused just for him he couldn't wait to dig in.

“Baby this all for me, hm?” Bringing his ring finger to your wet folds flicking upwards to get a little moan out of you, your hips bucking into the air.

“I'm gonna put a finger in, gonna make you feel real good you hear me?” Your furious nodding made Leon's arrogance grow, coating his fingers in your sticky slick he rubbed at your entrance.

“Please Leon, put it inside.”

“It'll hurt angel, but I promise It's gonna pass real soon.” Before you could respond he'd eased his thick, long fingers into your tight, wet hole making you cry aloud. Gripping his free arm, squeezing it as he began to slowly thrust his fingers inside of you. The pain began, but ended just as Leon had mentioned it would. Pleasure clouded your thoughts, you'd been missing out if this is what it felt like to be fingered. But maybe it was just Leon and his skilled fingers.

His pace never faltered, wanting you to reach your first proper orgasm with him; he added a second finger stretching you out invitingly for when the time came. Broken whines and gasps left your dry throat, pressure building  in your stomach you couldn't speak your words lodged in your throat as you came all over Leon's fingers.

“That's right baby all over my fingers, gonna lick it all up f'ya.”

Slowly pulling out, Leon had a sly smirk painted across his angelic features. If you were this loud with only his fingers, how would you react to his cock? Well guess he'd find out very soon. Bringing his fingers to his pinkish lips he licked them teasingly, looking at your blanked out expression.

“Are you ready for the real deal, my angel?”

“Yeah Leon please, want your cock inside me.”

Oh so straightforward you were, it's one of the things that Leon absolutely adored about yourself. He had no idea how you were still a virgin, but maybe you did believe in destiny and waited for him. His low growl felt possessive, pushing you back into the plush pillows he unbuttoned your low cut pyjama top before chucking it aside. Just as he had suspected from earlier you were wearing no bra. He chuckled, grabbing both your breasts and kneading them between his fingers. Thumb pads dancing over your hardened nipples, grazing them teasingly before latching his sweet mouth onto one. Your mewls made him weak to the knee, his excitement grew in his pants wanting to desperately be inside of you just as much as you wanted it.

Sliding his pants and briefs of his meaty thighs, Leon advanced towards you again spreading your legs forcefully before leaning down into your ear. “M’gonna make you feel so, so good you look so pretty like this baby.”

“Please Leon.” Your gentle request made Leon’s heart flutter, he really just couldn’t get enough. It felt so intimate, you trusted him and he wanted to prove to you that he was the only one for you.

Grabbing himself and positioning at your tight entrance he pushed in, the acoustic melody you made somewhat between a cry and a moan made Leon soften as he allowed you to adjust to him.

Crystalline tears filled your eyes from the pain of your boyfriend stretching you out and making a home of you nestled deep inside. Sniffling you managed to speak up, tapping the blonde's shoulder. “Can move now Leon- please.” Obeying Leon began to slowly thrust into your guts making your shaky breathing louder, the air felt stifling hot and you didn’t know where to look as you locked eyes with his pale blue ones.

“Aw my baby, shh It’s okay now why’re you crying my darling? Did It hurt you a lot? I’m so sorry my love, do you need anything?” Leon’s million questions floated right past your mushy brain, but you requested one thing.

“I want you fuck-” You whimpered as he sped up hitting a particularly treasured spot of yours but you continued your sentence. “To be closer ha- to me please!”

Leon closed the distance between your sweaty bodies, his chest pressed against your boobs, his hold on your thighs tightening as he ploughed your guts out. “S’ pretty, so gorgeous I love you so much.” He was met with an a Capella of mewls before he felt you cumming around his cock, your fucked out face blanking out while coming down from your high.

“Come on baby one more for meh, can’t let you off. It's your first time you need at least two, trust me.” And before you could even respond he was already overstimulating your insides, your fingers curled in his honey coloured hair. His face buried between your tits, you could smell his hair that lavender shampoo he always used, he smelled so damn good you had your eyes fluttering shut.

“Cum with me baby, I know you can c’mon please, please?” Leon’s guttural groan had you cumming for a second time tonight, you felt his warm, thick cum drip inside of you pulling out and collapsing on the bed. Leon caressed your shoulder lightly kissing the small freckle you had there.

“Thank you Leon, I love you no one can change that I pinkie swear on it.” You stuck out your finger cutely.

Just as he had thought, such an unpredictable and straightforward little thing, but he stuck out his pinkie all the same.

[lunarluvver]

The Summoning

MINORS DNI

Incubus × fem chubby warlock (nsfw)

TW: demon, anal, oral, double penetration, outdoors sex, blood

Tears streamed down Seraphine's face as she poured the red dyed eggshells in a neat circle all around her. The slight breeze in the clearing scattered the shells a tiny bit as they fell, but once they landed, they didn't go anywhere. As a warlock of high caliber, she had no doubt this would work. Once the pentagram was finished, she stood in the center, chanting while she sliced her thick thigh open, letting crimson blood drip drip drip onto the soil beneath her feet and into the chalace below. The wind picked up and the torches she had placed around her went out as her chanting grew louder. Her long obsidian hair flailed behind her, her arms raised and eyes blazing with the heat of a thousand suns, furious tears still pouring out. She was sick of it all. Sick of the humiliation and rejection and powerlessness of a male society. These thoughts fueled her rage. Soon enough, a purple spark swirled a few feet away, growing and turning into a violet portal charged with demonic energy.

"Yes, YES." Her chanting grew more frantic as she saw a hoof poke out of the portal, followed by a fuzzy leg. Someone, someTHING, was coming out. She had prepared for this. Practiced and studied for years, gathering resources for this moment. The skin. It's skin was a deep grey. This had to be it. She got giddy at the sight and her hand slowly sunk to her nether regions.

The rest of it stepped through, and she was in awe at its horrifying beauty. Standing at 6 or 7 feet tall, he was mostly humanoid, besides his legs. The deep grey skin above his fuzzy digigrade legs was deeply scarred, large rugged hands looking calloused and abused. His face was obviously masculine, bearing a few scars as well. His lips curled into a sneer around top and bottom fangs, the sight of which got her wet instantly. Best of all, his eyes. They were black voids. Nothing at all could be seen in them. The color matched his huge horns, hair, and long slender tail.

He looked her up and down, stretching his muscles. "Another shameless slut calling upon a demon for pleasure the mortal men fail to provide?"

"Yes, Ivorn," she squeaked, one hand rubbing her mound and the other groping her breast, turned on by his deep voice. "I need...I..." it was hard to speak with the tears still coming and her breath ragged in her chest.

The incubus chuckled. "I know what you crave, witch woman." he interrupted, pointing to a large rock nearby. "Lay." He demanded.

She did as he asked, laying herself on the stone, wincing at how cold and rough it felt to her hot skin. The Incubus approached, using both of his hands to stroke two very large cocks, eyeing her hungrily as she rubbed her sensitive clit with both hands. He smirked when he got a very good idea. Before she could react, Ivorn reached out and picked her up by her soft waist and hung her upside down. Her legs were splayed open in front of him, resting on his broad shoulders, her pussy at just the right height to be accessible. The blood rushed to her head as she squirmed and realized what he was doing.

"Whaaa.." She squealed and wriggled

"Settle down, human." His booming voice vibrated her wet pussy, making her hole clench. His lips met her folds but he did not lick, he merely kept talking, teasing her. "You are delicious smelling. Such a treat prepared for me, so soft and sweet."

With every word his lips grazed her sensitive button, his deep voice rumbling her core. His hands squeezed her tummy, making her blush and squeal. She wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his soft trail of fur above his erect cocks. His nose touched her clit and inhaled deeply as he spoke again. "I will deeply enjoy devouring you." Just as he said that, his long tongue dove into her pussy, probing and curling to hit her gspot, bottom lip teasing her pearl. She moaned and panted, inhaling the intense musk from his groin as she was ravaged. His tongue was replaced by two of his meaty fingers so his lips and tongue could terrorize her clit. She wailed as the orgasms hit her. Juices squirted out of her and dripped down her back and front while she cried out his name. Ivorn used her juices to lubricate her tight ass, sliding one finger first and making his way up to four, prepping her for later. Never had she imagined sex like this, her blank mind frazzled and incapable of thought could only whimper and moan.

"Now, it's my turn." Ivorn flipped her back right side up, making her head feel foggy and her vision go blurry. He sat on the rock, holding her by the waist and guiding her onto his two shafts standing at attention below.

"Is..is it gonna fit?" She asked when the tips touched her holes, gawking at the size.

"Let's find out, shall we." He smirked and made her sink onto them. Each inch was agony, but once she hit the hilt, the demon started thrusting, uncaring of whether she was ready or not. The pain burned away into pleasure and she fully submitted to him. He planted his lips on the woman. She kissed him back and grabbed the base of his horns while she got her guts rearranged. He let out a groan as she pulled on his head, her tongue going inside his mouth to explore. Demons horns were sensitive and she took advantage of them.

"Your holes are the most exquisite I've ever had." He moaned and breathed through gritted teeth as he thrusted up into her, setting her core on fire. "And your body looks," he sighed. "Amazing."

The first climax slammed into her and she buried her face in his neck, biting his shoulder while she moaned out in pain. The feeling of being full in both holes was akin to being in heaven and she squirted all over him, pussy fluttering around his cock. When she opened her eyes, she found him staring at her with something resembling tenderness for a moment, quickly replaced with the same lustful indifference from earlier when he saw her watching. His panting and groaning increased in intensity, meaning he was close to climax. She wrapped her arms around his torso in preparation for the final part of her ritual.

He moaned long and hard as his cock unloaded pump after pump of hot cum into her. The feeling was amazing and she almost regretted that she wouldn't be able to do this with him again. A long obsidian blade materialized in her hand behind his back and she whispered into his neck as he climaxed.

"Sorry."

She whispered a chant as her hand went up and then plunged down, sliding right into the middle of his back where his heart should be. He immediately started to dissolve beneath her, shock and anger in his eyes as he realized what she had done. She pulled out the knife and licked the blood off, grinning at him the whole time.

"You fucking bitch." The demon cursed her name.

"Thanks for the power, babe. The sex was good too." She waved cutely as he died.

"I'll be back for you." He growled as the last of his body disappeared.

She felt it as soon as he was gone. The power. The surge. It electrified in her veins and made her body feel as though it was buzzing. From her toes to her hair, she reveled in the mana that coursed through her body. Seraphine couldn't help but be giddy about the whole ordeal. Great sex, lots of power, she aught to do this more often. She got down from the rock, collecting all of her tools and supplies along with her unlit torches, and walked the 5 minutes back to her cottage. She lived alone outside of town. The villagers liked her and all, she just didn't want to be disturbed. She put her supplies back in her hidden cupboard, safe from prying eyes, and went to bed, feeling spent from all the sex, but drunk on power.

PART 2 COMING SOON!

Thank you for reading!

Feedback appreciated if you have some!

[amarauder]

peter johnson and the flying wine bottles ♆ percy jackson x reader

PAIRING; Percy Jackson x Neighbor! Reader

REQUEST; N/A

GODLY PARENT: Demeter

DATE; May 1st, 2024

WORD COUNT; 2440

WARNING; Illegal activities, aka buying alcohol illegally

A/N: IM BACK MOTHERFUCKERS. tehehe I know its been years oops. Not my best work but its here and thats all that matters to me at this point.

TRAILER; In which Percy Jackson meets his neighbor by accidentally almost killing himself and her multiple times.

REQUESTED BY: N/A

--

Percy locks up his flat, double then triple checks everything is secure. He knows it’s a little over the top to be this careful with his security system, especially since his apartment complex is in the heart of New Rome. But after everything he has been through it gives him a little peace of mind knowing he is coming back to a hopefully monster-free apartment.

Things have been weird for Percy since Annabeth left. He hasn’t exactly hit the devastated stage that everyone, including him thought would be his reaction. Instead, it’s been like he has been going through the motions. Nothing has been that bad or great, just kind of there.

Piper has concluded that he is in shock. He suspects that she’s right. It’s almost like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like Annabeth’s on a quest and he hasn’t heard from her for a few weeks and he’s a bit concerned for her well-being. But it’s been a little over two months now and Percy hasn’t felt any different.

 The only difference that Percy has felt is annoyance towards Piper. She won’t stop badgering him about meeting this girl. It’s constant, nonstop talking about how they would be perfect for each other and how Percy just needs to get back out there.

The only thing Percy needs is a break. A break from all the sympathetic stares, the hopeful girls, and gods forbid Piper. He knows that she has his best interest at heart. He appreciates it, he really does. It makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside whenever his friends want to do something nice for him, but this just isn’t what Percy needs or wants right now.

What Percy needs is some time with his friends and maybe some free food which is exactly why he is heading over to Leo’s for a BBQ with the gang.

Stuffing his keys into his pocket, he heads over to the elevator then promptly almost dies tripping over air. It’s then that Percy realizes that he actually hadn’t fallen over air, he tripped over what looked like either a really long root or a vine? What the Hades? How did that get there?

He goes to pick it up when he realizes there’s a girl standing there waiting for the elevator. She’s holding a wine bottle, and what looks like the biggest plant Percy has ever seen. It would explain where the weird vine-root thing came from.

“Hey,” he starts, only to be interrupted by a scream and a face full of soil.

“Oh my God!” Screeches the plant. It takes Percy a second to realize that it is in fact the girl screaming and not the plant. To be fair, Percy has seen too many outer-worldly oddities in his life, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was the plant talking. “I am so sorry!”

Percy laughs and rubs dirt off his face, “Don’t be. I shouldn’t have scared you.” When he finally gets all the dirt off, Percy realizes she put the plant down. She’s pretty. Like really pretty actually. It takes Percy’s brain a second to catch up to all this new information.

She waves his apology away, “I scare way too easily. You should see me during October.”

“Halloween can get pretty spooky around here.” She tilts her head to the side in a way that remind him of a cute puppy. “Cause all the ghosts, ya know?”

Her eyes widen, “There are ghosts here?”

“Yeah, you haven’t seen them?” She shakes her head, “There’s one named Vector. He’s my favorite.”

“Why am I even surprised? My Mom is a Greek god. Of course there would be ghosts! What’s next? Flying monkeys?”

Percy’s lips quirked, “Don’t give them that idea.”

She laughed and Percy’s chest tightened. “What’s your name?”

“Percy. Yours?”

“Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before. Did you move in recently?” Percy knows he would have noticed or remembered her.

She puts her finger next to her lips. Percy is momentarily entranced. “I think around a month ago. I just started at New Rome University.” As she was chattering on about college Percy noticed the wine bottle slowly starting to slip out of her grip. Thanks to his demigod reflexes, Percy caught the bottle just in time.

“Oh!” She said in surprise. “Thanks! I didn’t even know it was falling.”

“No worries. I got it.” The elevator dings and they both head in. College? They were about a quarter into the fall semester. “What are you studying?”

“Agriculture.”

Percy’s eyebrows rise. That was not what he was expecting.  “Cool, my best friend from home is really into plants and stuff.”

Y/N’s lips quirked, “Plants and stuff?”

Percy smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. Thankfully, he was saved from answering by the elevator. Even though he was glad he didn’t have to answer to his stupidity, Percy still felt a pang in his chest. He really didn’t want to part from her but didn’t know how to tell her that without sounding creepy. She gives him good vibes. Percy’s always loved people like that.

“Where are you headed off too?” He eventually asks after sneaking what he hopes is casual glances at her as they exit the building.

She bounces on her toes a bit, “This girl I just met invited me to their friend’s place. I’m a bit nervous to be honest. I don’t know anyone besides her.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. I’ve loved talking to you and we’ve only just met.” Percy’s face went beet red. That was not how it was supposed to come out. “I-I mean you’ve been fun to talk to.”

They both laugh for a second, falling quiet quickly enough to make Percy feel awkward. He wishes he had more to say, if only to keep Y/N around him a little longer.

Y/N beams, “Thanks, Percy. I’m glad that I finally met someone in this apartment complex. Everyone here seems like busy bodies and never wants to talk.”

Percy shrugs. He’s noticed that too but never felt too bothered by it. Though, he isn’t the one who moved away from friends. “You get used to it. Here’s your wine bottle.” He hands her the wine bottle and Percy swears he gets déjà vu from a few minutes ago. Just as the wine bottle leaves his fingertips its soaring to the floor and crashes all over both of them. Fortunately, Percy isn’t hurt but he’s more concerned about Y/N to care.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Y/N puffs out she looks more shocked than anything. Percy feels like a giant idiot. First, he scares her, and Y/N’s plant almost goes flying everywhere. Then, he distracts her enough to almost drop the bottle. Now, after all of that mess he literally just fucks it all up. What are the odds?

It seems Y/N read his mind because she starts to giggle, “I think the Gods just don’t want me to bring wine today.”

As soon as they clean up the mess they head out. Percy had almost cut himself on the glass once or twice but he couldn’t complain much. He had been through worse things than a cut. Both of them had mumbled to each other the entire time about Why the Gods had decided the third time was the charm but decided against mentioning anything else as Y/N still had her plant to carry the rest of the way.

Percy only wishes that Mr. D was here to witness this. He could practically hear the “Peter Johnson!” from New Rome.

“Where are you headed too?” Y/N questions as they both come to a complete stop outside the building.

“To buy you a new wine bottle.” Percy says gesturing with his head towards town. He knows he’ll be late to Leo’s thing, but he can’t really bring himself to care. Percy also knows that Leo, out of all people, will be understanding especially if he mentions a girl.

“What?” Y/N says and grabs his arm, effectively stopping him. “No way. I am not allowing you to buy me a new wine bottle. I was the one who dropped it.”

Percy will admit that it was mostly her fault. It had been in her hands when the accident occurred. But Percy was first and foremost Sally Jackson’s son and if Sally taught him anything it was how to be polite to a pretty girl. “I was the one handing it to you.”

Y/N crosses her arms and shakes her head stubbornly. “No way, Percy! I am not allowing you to buy me one. I’ll buy my own and be on my way.”

“Fine but at least let me walk you to the wine store.” Y/N seems to consider this as her eyebrows scrunch a little less but she still doesn’t uncross her arms. She seems to agree nonverbally since she starts to walk with him.

“So, Do you know Mr.D?”

“Who?”

“Mr.D,” Percy confirms, “Dionysus? Camp Half-Blood’s camp director?”

“Oh,” Y/N murmurs, “I’ve heard of him from my friend, but I’ve never been to Camp Half-Blood.”

“Did you go to Camp Jupiter then?”

She shakes her head. Percy is officially confused. Where did she grow up then? How did she stay away from monsters? “I’m lost. Were you at home then?”

“For some reason, I never really got into trouble with monsters. Sure, weird stuff would happen to me throughout the years but my teachers would just put it off as overactive imagination. It wasn’t until my high school graduation that a monster came after me and my Dad finally brought me here. Next thing I know I’m enrolled at New Rome with my own apartment. What about you?” She questions innocently.

Percy huffs out a laugh. Oh, where to start. He settles on a simple, “I grew up at Camp Half-Blood.”

Y/N nods mutely. It gets a little awkward for a second and Percy wishes he paid a little more attention to his Mom’s rom-com movies. He’s never met a girl like this before. The only other girl he had ever been interested in was Annabeth and they had been friends forever before they even started dating. He was treading new waters.

Fortunately, they turned the corner and the wine store was a few steps away. “There it is,” Percy said and pointed. He was starting to feel nervous and he didn’t know why. Y/N went to open the door, but Percy beat her to it.

She turns around with a teasing smile on her face, “Thanks, Percy. So, want to tell me if your legal or not?”

It takes Percy a second to realize what she is talking about. Oh, buying alcohol. “Yeah, I’m 21. How old are you?”

“19.”

Oh. Oh. Percy shrugs, he’s certainly not one to shy away from illegal adventures. (A/N: DO NOT DRINK ILLEGALLY KIDDOS. NOT COOL AT ALL.) That would just be hypocritical.

Y/N heads over to the wine section and Percy follows after her like a lame, lost puppy. He needs to start acting a little cooler.

“White or red?” Percy asks.

“Champagne.” She answers immediately, with no hesitation. Alright, champagne it is. That’s a little too fancy for Percy’s taste. He’s more of a red Josh man but to each their own. He likes his six-dollar wine, thank you very much. Judgement is not tolerated within this household.

“Perfect” she says and grabs the champagne before making a beeline to the counter. Percy races after her digging for his wallet. He was not about to let her pay. He finally fishes it out of his pocket and waits for the man to check her out.

While Percy is waiting, he can’t help but admire her. She chatters away to the man as he looks over what Percy is assuming her fake ID. Making small talk in a way Percy never could.

The man gives it back to her and rings her up, “19 dollars and 75 cents, ma’am.”

Percy is quick to give his card to the dude. The cash register guy sighs and Y/N looks appalled. “No way. I am paying for it, Percy!”

He gently nudges her out of the away and hands the card over to him. He rolls his eyes, “I don’t care which one of you is going to sugar-mama the other. But whoever pays I have to see some ID.”

Percy digs in his pocket for his identification and hands it over. The man’s eyes widen, he looks at the picture then back to Percy. “You’re Percy Jack-“

“Yup,” Percy interrupts. He isn’t self-centered enough to think that Y/N has heard of him before but just in case, Percy wants to keep that information to himself for now.

The man’s demeanor instantly changes now that he knows who he is cashing out. “Have a good rest of your day!” He yells cheerily after him. When they head out, Percy can hear him whisper-yelling to his coworker about who he just checked out.

Y/N looks a little alarmed at the situation, especially probably the way Percy rushed her out. “What was that about?”

“Nothing” Percy waves her away. “That guy was just” He hesitates, “Weird.”

She makes a face, “Yeah, he really was. I can’t believe we did it though! I have never used my fake before.”

Percy takes a step back, “What? How did you get the wine from earlier then?”

“Oh, my Dad bought that for me.” Percy scoffs, Sally would be disappointed to find out that he was anywhere near alcohol. The thought fills him with a little guilt. She smiles and Percy’s chest hurts a little. This is where they say goodbye he realizes. “Well, it was really nice to meet you, Percy. I’m glad the Gods made our paths cross.”

He grins, “Me too, Y/N. I’ll see you around.”

“Bye, Percy.”

As Percy heads over to Leo’s place, he realizes how fast his heart is pounding and he can’t stop smiling. Somehow, he knows it’s not from their illegal adventure.

[hoseoksluna]

SMOKE, iv. | myg

pairing: idol!yoongi x smoke!oc (ft. jungkook)

genre: angst, heart-wrenching fluff

word count: 6.5k

summary: everything that hurts must begin to stop at one point. 

pinterest board: smoke / taglist: join / discord: join

warnings: DOMESTIC ABUSE, oc gets triggered a lot in this chapter, dissociation, anxiety, alcohol consumption, a brief mention of physical violence, religion, praying, jk and oc smoke together.

note: hi, my babies. i'm here with another chapter. i really like this chapter a lot and i like where it's heading, so i hope you like it as much as you do. let me know what yout think. sorry, this is a bit short, but i didn't want to drag it out, esp. if everything that needed to get settled did. i love you all soso much, mwah.

When Jungkook appears, uncanvassed, damp and abysmal, in the field of my swimming vision, I have to stop dead in my tracks to see if my inebriated brain isn’t playing tricks on me. 

He’s sat on the half-wet stone of the staircase leading up to the street where I live. My apartment complex is just straight up, a minute away from where he’s waiting for me, and the wheels within my brain cells begin to whirr and turn, reminding me that I tapped on the crescent moon icon on my phone before I absconded to my girl best friend for a heart-to-heart conversation and a new set of nails. Misty-eyed, I recounted to her the monochrome poetry lines that bloomed through last night between me and Yoongi and wilted in my bare, sleep-cloaked hands this morning while she filed down the freshly baked acrylic powder. The moment she heard the deadly words that were spat at me, she flung her rosy, tiger-print file across her station, got up to her feet without a word and came back with a bottle of my favorite pink nectar in even pinker, fancy glass, certainly not meant for wine. 

And I downed each and every refill in one, singular gulp everytime she moved onto the next step and my hand was free. 

And Miyun… as much as she erupted in her idiosyncratic rage, her work on my nails was immaculate and untouched by her vivid lava. Curses and funny remarks, that yanked the weight off my shoulders and wiped it out using her vigor and red-hot magma, shattered the room until I laughed so hard that the alcohol dipped into my system far quicker than usual. She glued on the crosses I had asked for while I chortled, and she shushed me, breaking into a soft, non-obvious laughter that she tried to keep at bay while her hair fanned around her. Cherry-red, long and lustrous, curling on the smooth skin of her arms. The laughter died down and silence replaced it as she laid down the last layer of top coat over her artwork—and I felt a certain inspiration seize me. 

“What if I dyed my hair red, too?” I voiced it out, a seawave of different kinds of co-existing emotions ebbing and flowing in me. Airiness and offense, care and distance. And they were all roped around the memory of Yoongi in me like the roots of flowers in a colorful meadow soil. Vast and expansive, yet delicate and frail. One sweep of the wind’s harsh breath and they tilt—and remain tilted. 

I do, too, despite my efforts. 

Despite my ingrained fight to straighten and my strivings to be unaffected, unagitated and undisturbed by the way I was disrespected by Yoongi. They were all fruitless, however. Barren of my long-exercised resilience against the violence of men, my wariness and vigilance of them only strengthening. 

He took me to the far north side of paradise with his tongue and fingers in the middle of the night. And when the sun rose, he treated me like I dragged him to the deepest of hell and left him there to perish of starvation and thirst.

I should have seen it coming and prepared myself for it, especially when I had decided in my heart to take care of him, take care of the deep-sunk, nameless agony in him that prevented him from coloring our stanzas. But alas… it came to face me too soon, in my gossamer defenselessness.

Yoongi metamorphosed into the vermin that Ji-hoon was. His face faded on top of his while my ex-boyfriend’s body remained intact, broad and fear-instilling. And when Yoongi stood up so quickly, I sailed back, against my will, to the sheer realm of brutality that I had dwelled in, years ago. Yoongi with Ji-hoon’s body, abandoning me after I got myself into trouble. For wearing too much make-up, for having long manicured nails, for dressing a certain way that was impertinent in our relationship. He would leave a bruise for every mistake I made to discipline me, to ascertain that I would learn from it and never do it again. And I did learn after I was depleted of color-correcting concealers, the sinews I would use to raise my hands and tap the cream product in, erasing my foolish mistakes from the eyes of Jungkook, Minyun and my parents. 

I fought for too long during the relationship. For my freedom, for my dignity. And I fought for too long after the relationship to go through it all over again. 

I dreaded being hit when Yoongi stood up from my couch. Flinched when he went around the coffee table past me because I anticipated the swing of his arm with my eyes boring holes into my carpet. I had flexed my muscles to brace myself against the incoming physical pain so hard that I nearly gasped, pathetically, for air when he walked on into the corridor. 

But I still couldn’t look at him. 

Although I knew, rationally, that Ji-hoon wasn’t present, I didn’t let up until he shut the door behind me with a soft click because my body didn’t connect to my clear-headedness. It was caught in a fight or flight response like an ensnared bird. 

And this must’ve been what Minyun was seeing when she contemplated me, paused in the middle of dusting her station clean with her pale-pink kabuki brush. Because she resumed right after once I reciprocated her gaze and curled her lips under her teeth. 

“We can go to Olive Young then, and stop by 7-Eleven after to get some snacks and drinks.” 

She reflected on my wound and didn’t hesitate to cradle my head and bring me to a safe refuge. 

And I didn’t hesitate to wrap my arms around her and hug her until all those oxymoronic emotions, which I felt towards Yoongi, dulled in the smallness of me. 

I let her take the lead. Choose the vibrant, deep cherry tint that would annul my trigger and dye me anew. I sipped on my iced cherry drink for the occasion while she glided the brush along my strands, splattering most of the orange paste on the thick wisp of the symbol of my connection with Jungkook, the only man in my life who never used his manliness against me. I thought about him as she rubbed it in; and I thought about Grookey. Thought about how, in that very moment, I was saying goodbye to the self I possessed while being attached to them. 

And when Minyun washed my hair and curled her round brush through it, the stark contrast to who I was before overwhelmed me so much that I began to weep. 

I couldn’t recognize myself, I didn’t know who that girl in the mirror was. But something told me that she was stronger than who I used to be. And while it felt petrifying to be standing alone in the crook of my past self and my current self, the longer I gaped at myself, the more I adapted to the assurance that she was emanating. 

She wasn’t going to take any shit from any man ever again. Certainly not with darkly, sequoia-kissed hair like that.

Minyun brushed her thumbs under my eyes and shifted me deeper into the refuge by grabbing my shoulders and guiding me to her balcony, where she sat me down on her chair while she crouched in front of me. Sliding a tiny cigarette into her IQOS and taking a puff, she leaned over to the square table and grabbed her pack, nudging a longer, classic cigarette between my chapped lips. 

I never smoked on my own. I would take hits from her slender, pink case of flavored air or steal her cigarettes when I had enough buzz from the alcohol in my veins. Forget about it the following days and weeks that we wouldn’t see each other because I was such a hermit. But I didn’t want to be one anymore—I wanted to spend more time with her from now on. With Jungkook, too. 

“You look so pretty with your new hair,” Minyun said, sweetly, leaning back on her sock-clad heels in her Louis Vuitton slides, wrapping her arm around her knees like I did around my chest last night, and I inhaled her compliment along with the drag of her cigarette. “We’re twins now.” 

I had become such a fragile egg shell that her words multiplied in me as they settled in my lungs, bursting and imbuing me with pigments of confidence. And I beamed through my tears, a light protruding through clouds, as I exhaled the smoke. 

It felt as natural as breathing—to claim her cigarettes and make them a thing of my own. 

In place of Grookey. 

It’s what Jungkook spots first, instead of my hair, once he senses my presence and lifts his head, standing up to his feet, towering over me. And he must’ve been waiting for a long time because his scolding words are flung out first before anything else.

“Where have you been? Do you know how scared I was? I called you up. I rang your doorbell and you wouldn’t answer. All day.” 

I take a long drag just to stabilize myself, gratitude unfolding in my sternum for the way he isn’t manly. 

He’s merely caring. 

Hovering above me, moving his arms in my proximity, features stern in his soft manner, and yet I’m not threatened by my fear because I know him, because I trust him. Trust that everything about him is securely soft and boy-like, round and endearing—even when he raises his voice a little at me. 

Minjun and I took another bottle of rosé to her balcony that we finished by passing it to each other and smoking like there was no tomorrow, so the liters of the nectar that flit in my bloodstream elevate how I see him and my body is naturally inclined to do something I normally wouldn’t do. 

And much to Jungkook’s surprise and a little bit to his dismay, I listen to that hushed tone of my heart and obey it—discovering that it is an aid and nothing else. 

“Since when do you—” 

I silence his stupid, yet valid question by wrapping my arms around his neck, careful not to nip his skin with the hot prickle of the cigarette. Its orange tip envelops us in a soft glow in the middle of the darkening evening, the smoke surrounding us like a protection ring. It takes three beats of my heart—which in reality must be his and surely not mine considering the numbness that has descended, fully, in me—for his arms to move and swathe me in complete safety. 

He’s rescuing me, like Minyun did. Bouncing off of her and finishing the job, without knowing a thing about it. 

We become one, singular form of a penumbra, dressed as we are in this unlit shade. Jungkook with his cargos and baggy sweatshirt; me with my tracksuit that’s too big for me. His neck is cold and I scatter a little bit of my warmth upon that skin, regretful that he waited for me this long because of my foolish forgetfulness. 

My dearest boy best friend. 

I squeeze him harder and Jungkook buries his nose in my shoulder, fisting the fabric of my hoodie on my back. 

And then, he sniffs my hair. Makes a Korean sound of discovery and surprise. Pulls back just to look at me with narrowed, inspecting eyes. Drags me to the nearest street lamp—and I watch his eyelids grow to their original, bulbous size. 

Roundie. 

He has noticed my hair, at last. 

Fluffs it and completely destroys the impeccable blowout that Minyun gave me. 

“What the fuck, Jungkook?” I grumble, pushing his hand away, but, like my hoodie, he fists both of my wrists in one hand and sinks the other one into my length, following the diligent curve that Minyun created. 

I huff, and the sound is deadened by the devastating words he utters, disappearing into the prickling coldness of the air. 

“What did he say to you that made you do this?”

I dwell in silence, my numbed emotions leaden, dented and yet sharp enough that I feel their resurfacing pain. 

I look away, untangling my wrists from his hold. Jungkook unclenches his fist, but the ash from my cigarette lands on the back of his hand. I gasp, quick to brush it away, however he’s quicker. Doesn’t make a sound in response. Shakes his hand and steals my cigarette, puffing on it. 

My mouth parts. Shock strangles me. 

He smokes? 

Jungkook’s seriousness droops as he chuckles, dryly, at my reaction. He takes a step back, slides a hand in the pocket of his pants, coalesces into the shadows of the early blooming night. 

“I didn’t know you smoked either,” he says, smiling in that lopsided way of his, a large dent in his cheek. And it feels as though I’m getting to know my best friend for the first time. What else is he hiding? What does he do, in utmost normalcy, when he’s not with me? 

He dips his chin to look at the cigarette before he flicks his thumb across its ivory butt. The ashy particles fly to the rocky ground in tandem with his smile. And his mind travels back to this morning’s misfortune, as rapid as a rocket shooting up beyond the clouds. 

“I’m not giving this to you until you tell me what he said. The last time you did something to your hair like this was when you left that good-for-nothing son of a bitch.” 

A fleck of memory appears before my eyes. Me dousing my hair in black dye with my own hands while Jungkook stood by; him putting my star clips in my no longer virgin strands to distract my tears, me sliding the same ones into his, making a middle part and laughing until my stomach hurt. He had healed me by just being with me, not expecting words, not expecting any explanations. 

Him asking me for them has a great meaning, a certain hastiness that I know full well has a stabbing pain, and I feel his fear, instead of mine. Understand, all of a sudden, why he waited for so long.

And I put him first, just so that emotion unclenches its fist from him. Nod my head to let him know that I’ll tell him, bare my heart for him. 

I walk backwards and sit down on the stony stairs. Jungkook joins me, right beside me. Takes a long drag of the cigarette as if to prepare himself for what I’m about to share with him—and I need the same smoky courage. I take it from him, puff on it and give it back to him. He gives me a gentle smile and I recognize the reason behind it.

A new form of bonding settles between us. 

I reciprocate the smile and gather my words in the brief silence. The wind helps me as it breezes through my hair, fondles my face ever so gently and when I lift my chin at its attention, my eyes stumble across the full moon. 

I breathe in its pristine energy. Let my lungs be full of its beams—and let it cleanse me, thoroughly. 

Jungkook’s patience helps me, too, as he quietly finishes the cigarette, stubbing it out on the step. Ready to listen. 

And so I begin. 

“I invited him upstairs because I wanted to,” I start and realize that I have to come forth with the truth. Deem that he deserves to know. I look inward, quickly, and try to detect any obstacles in me—but I find myself empty, cleansed, a dried fountain with no drops of water, yet I am free. With the alcohol still trickling in my bloodstream. “I didn’t feel sick. That was a lie.” I flick my eyes to his reaction, catch him widening his eyes and parting his mouth and I decide it’s time for another cigarette. I pull one for him and myself, lighting it up for the both of us. “I didn’t want you to know that I got triggered. I’m sorry for that.” 

Jungkook blows the smoke in the other direction, away from my face. He furrows his brows in pity as he leans his elbows on his outstretched knees. 

I expect him to yell at me… but he does the exact opposite, soothing me down to the marrow of my bone. 

“Triggered? How?” he asks, his voice so muted that I barely hear it, lips pursed in that eternal pout of his and mine mirror it, naturally. I appreciate his gentleness so much that I lean the side of my head against his shoulder. And he leans his against the top of mine. 

“I guess I wanted to be alone when I left the room and I found Hobi at the end of the hall. I sat with him for a little while and when he started talking, I realized he was drunk and my body gave up on me. I dissociated like I used to after the breakup. I thought I was better, that I healed from it, but it’s been a long since I was in the company of men, you know? I didn’t want to disappoint you, especially when I’d promised you that it wasn’t happening to me anymore.” 

I hear him take a strong puff and I reflect him, doing the same. Then, he sighs and extends his legs, his back rounding forward. I watch the smoke make patterns in the night-tinged air and I breathe differently, now that I’ve pulled the skeleton out of the closet. And even though my emotions are numb, my softness deepens when Jungkook takes the bony creature into his arms and begins to dance with it. 

“You could never disappoint me,” he whispers, his words the music for the dance, and I wrap my fingers around his clothed forearm, just holding him there, needing it. “You should’ve told me. Did you think I would tell you off for it? Of course not, you silly goose.” 

I chortle, and the smoke comes out in staccatos that are guided by my tender laughter. And he melts it with his following words. 

“How can I help you? Should I get you a therapist? I don’t want you to take meds for it…” he trails off, clicking his tongue and fishing out his phone from his pocket. His fingers move on the keyboard of his screen and the letters I read fracture my heart and glue it back together all the same. “Grounding techniques. Breathing slowly while counting. Different sounds, walking barefoot, blanket, ice cube or cold water—”

My mouth opens before my brain registers what my weakened heart longs to say. 

“Yoongi splashed cold water on my face and neck and that brought me back,” I spew out, tiny tears lining my vision at the memory, at the feel of his cold, solid hands, at the sight of his wide, fearful eyes that relaxed when he realized that I was back in the present times. “He saved me.” 

I blink them away; I smoke them away. 

Jungkook sucks in a breath, clicking on an article about dissociation and scrolling down. “Yoongi and I will be your therapists, then. For free.” 

I look away and withdraw from him, twiddling with my fingers. My heart enlarges, yearns for it—yearns to create a link to his beyond the physical bound we have, reach out for him like a child for its father, but my fear of being triggered again, of being afflicted by his pain slaps its arms away from him. 

It’s not meant to be—Yoongi is not the one for me because if he were, there wouldn’t be any barrier between us. And with that knowledge, my obsession with him, slowly and painfully, dissipates, leaving my frailty and my willingness to help him, if he’d ever need me, in the hands of God. 

But knowing the faces of manliness and ego, Yoongi won’t allow himself to be helped by me. And that bruises me more than the words he flung at me.  

Jungkook senses my absence more vividly than I want him to, and his head swivels in my direction, the article momentarily forgotten. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, prodding me, and it’s me who sighs this time. 

I take the last drag and gaze at the moon as I speak. “Yoongi can’t help me when he needs help himself.” 

The yellowish face of the bulbous planet nods at me and I feel, ever so slightly, at ease, leaning my elbows back on the steps. That is until a lump forms in my throat and, inertly, I ask the feminine luna for her strength, for her resilience, and I ask her to help me become my new self that resembles her so much. 

Jungkook locks his phone and stares at me. “What happened this morning?” 

And perhaps she does nurture me with what I need through her radiance after all because I don’t hesitate to tell him. 

“I wore lingerie to bed that was see-through and when I looked for him and found him crying on my couch, he told me, ‘can you, please, put something fucking on?’ and left,” I unravel, violently, mimicking Yoongi’s coarse morning voice, and Jungkook scoffs, averting his gaze. He sucks hard on the last of his cigarette before throwing it away with the same nerve, shaking his head as he thinks about those poisonous words. Validates me, like Minyun did. 

It takes several heartbeats and several more moonbeams puncturing my sternum before he turns back to me. 

“Check your phone.” 

A wrinkle between my brows. “Why?” 

“Just do it.” 

Without understanding why he wants me to do that, I comply. I pull out my phone from my purse, the light from the screen bathing me in stark blue. Jungkook chews on his bottom lip as he watches me read my notifications from him, Minyun and Netflix. And when I say nothing, he tilts his head and reads them on his own, only to groan and place it in his hands. 

Then, he stares off into the distance. 

“What?”

He takes my hand and drags me to my feet. “Come on.” 

I yelp and Jungkook yanks me to the patch of grass by the street lamp, kneeling by the gravel. And I can’t speak as he builds a praying altar of rocks, leaves and sticks. I can’t speak when he holds it in place and makes sure it doesn’t collapse, as small and sturdy as it is. And I can’t speak when he adorns it with an abandoned, pink flower petal that he finds nearby. Places it on the top of the last stone, against the flesh of the damp, green leaf that is propped by a petite rock. 

And in my silence, once he’s done, he tugs my hand down, sinking me to my knees. Sits back on his folded legs and presses his palms together. 

“God, I know that you know I don’t believe in you. My dad probably talks to you a lot about me, so I’m sure you know who I am. I don’t come to you because of me, though. I come to you right now because my friends need you,” Jungkook prays, his voice mellow and subdued, meant for my ears and the ears of God that I myself believe in, but don’t have a relationship with. I settle down into my respect for his bravery and kindness, closing my eyes, and I feel him enveloping his fingers around mine on my lap. My heart thumps and my other hand finds the way to it—I pin my palm to the left side of my chest, cradling those full-blooded strikes, willing the corners of my mouth not to quiver. “My dad says you know everything and right now I really hope that you know what Yoongi went through. I ask you, sincerely, to give him strength to be a better person. To make sure his feet don’t walk backwards but forward with the girl beside me. I also ask you to help her to not dissociate anymore, help her not remember that son of a bitch, sorry—that guy that broke her. And altogether, I ask you to heal them both. Also, make sure Yoongi mans up a little and texts her like I wanted. Or just do something, anything. Give him ideas. Make his balls grow or whatever. Thank you. Sorry for all I did. Amen.” 

The tears fall and I can’t halt them, nor do I want to. Lightness floods my chest, my mind, spreads all over my bones, and I breathe out in hiccups. I agree with his prayer by whispering the same ending word and when I glance at Jungkook, I see him meditating, privately, on something on his own. 

It inspires me, comforts me and impassions me to do the same. 

I flutter my eyes closed and quieten my breathing. 

Dear God, if I was wrong and this is for me, allow me to take care of Yoongi. Help us find a way towards each other and cleanse my heart from all the pain. 

And then the words spill, my prayer prolonging, and I discern that they don’t root from me, bathed in the glimmer of the moon as they are. 

I forgive him and I’m giving him another chance. Give us the opportunity to better our actions and communicate our pains. Give us the strength to do so. Give us the words. Give us peace of mind and clarity. Thank you. Amen. 

My tears have dried by the time I’m finished with my internal prayer. Jungkook has patiently waited the whole time, holding my hand, and he gives me the lovingest, most wholesome smile I’ve ever received in my life when I face him. He kisses my knuckles and I feel, strongly, that it seals our prayers. 

Helping me stand, it’s him who hugs me this time around. I bury my face in his chest, fisting the back of his sweatshirt like he did to me when I arrived. We remain like this, underneath the lenitive moonlight and the merciful eye of God that I sense upon us. And I know, in the abyss of my weakened heart, that I shall never forget about this moment. 

“Did you also feel that lightness in your chest?” Jungkook asks onto my hair, and I nod, too lost in my brimming, alive emotions—no longer numb, but erupting in tender colors—to answer. Love, thankfulness, delicate joy and that persisting lightness. 

Grabbing my shoulders, he breaks the hug and grins down at me. He glows underneath that street lamp, a pure whiteness lining his form, the tiny twinkling freckles of stars scattering upon his skin and I love him. 

I love my best friend. 

And the more I look at him, the more I’m reminded of the way I put the star clips in his hair and I think it would only be right if he were to wear them right now. 

I link my arm around his. 

“Let’s go inside.” 

The moonlight shone upon our way, ascertaining that we didn’t stumble. Reached a standstill and formed a ring around us when we stopped by the door to my apartment building and had another cigarette together, this time another shared one because I felt as though I had inhaled too much smoke throughout the day. 

The stars poked at my back in our silence, encouraging me to break it, and I did—once it was my turn to puff. I thanked him, earnestly, for the prayer, showed him my nails embellished with little silver crosses, ones he gaped at with utmost fascination before it all spurred something in him enough for him to share with me what went down earlier in the morning after Yoongi left my apartment. 

Crestfallen Yoongi, drenched from the rain, murky, cloud-bearing; the very one I know. Jungkook had to, essentially, extricate him from the force of his innermost downpour, and I waded through the torrent with each information he provided me. 

He was profoundly regretful and made a fool out of himself by choking at the sound of my name—something that made my cheeks ignite with coy flattery and my fingertips to tingle. The knowledge that he rued his actions wove through my prayer and quelled me, my heart and my mind, until there was no ounce of ache that bothered me. 

I entered a state of sobriety, plopping down onto my couch with a small basket of hair ties and clips. Jungkook wasn’t really cognizant of what I was doing as he focused on telling the story, describing, in his teasing manner, the way Yoongi looked like while he spoke of me. The way his cheeks flushed and light burst in his eyes. He was so preoccupied with the task that he didn’t flinch when I brushed his hair with my Kuromi tangle teezer, nor when I put up his hair in two pigtail buns and secured them with matching, violet Kuromi hair ties. 

His hair felt brittle in my fingers from all the bleach the stylist used on his hair. Briefly, I remembered the way he specifically asked her if there was a drugstore alternative to the professional dye and he went to buy it for me that very day and we splattered it on together, with him choosing the strand, of course. I made a mental note to talk about his hair with him later. 

I grew hot when he shifted to the part, where he read to him the message I sent for him. I had cleaned the whole apartment in effort to rid myself of the residue of my trigger, but my care for him remained because I understood where he came from. What I hadn’t known was that after listening to my heart and typing out the message, I would get tormented by my mind so viciously that I had to seek my girl best friend. My care for him sank to the bottom of me and the offense I felt resurfaced, swallowing me whole. 

To know, in the present time, that Yoongi thought it too good to be true, grew smaller when Jungkook began to tell him off, washes it all out and I am a brand new canvas. 

I take off my hoodie, aflame. 

“He really thought about what I said to him and he even put your number in his phone. I visibly saw him opening a new text message and typing something,” Jungkook says, exasperated, and I have to chuckle to myself—he looks so damn adorable with the two minty buns, but he’s still missing those clips. I search for them in my basket, reveling in that fire of his, which his words are permeated with, the heat stifling me. “I thought he sent it to you. I didn’t see him do it because I got a call from Namjoon, asking where we were. We had a meeting right after—and that’s also something I need to talk to you about.” 

My ears perk up and I freeze with the clips in my hands. 

The smile Jungkook gives me this time is cheerless. 

The sweat that coats me morphs into a layer of iciness. 

“We’re going on tour abroad next month,” he imparts and my heart closes. I disintegrate, the clips falling out of my hands. And the stars blanketing the heavens outside must do the same, plummeting to the ground, conjointly, with me. “We were supposed to have another concert tonight, a secret one that would be made into a docuseries, but then America fucking called.” 

That means no hanging out with Jungkook, no star clips; no seeing Yoongi and leaving things as they are—unfinished and still aching on his part. 

And that leaves me alone with my thoughts. 

I pout, my heart dead silent. 

“When will you be back?” 

Jungkook gathers the fallen clips and sets them down upon my open, vulnerable palms. Manages to warm them up in that brief exchange. 

“There aren’t many tour dates. I’ll be back before—”

My phone pings in the kitchen. 

And before I can breathe, Jungkook scurries to his feet and flees. 

Grabs my phone and holds it in front of my face, so the detector can unlock what the notification hides. And once it does and his eyes sweep over the lettering multiple times, he squeals. Springs. Beams like the warmest star he is, personified firelight. And I’m more happy that he’s happy than I’m happy about the fact Yoongi has done something. 

For me. 

Jungkook slides the phone into my clammy hand and I let out a little breath. Instagram has notified me that a certain person that goes by the name agustd liked my post. I smirk, cupping my face, while I click on the notification to see what exactly he liked. Jungkook sits beside me and looks over, laughing, vehemently, through his nose before he starts clapping. 

My stomach jumps, stirring my butterflies awake. 

I’m wearing a knitted set in the picture, nearly pellucid with how stretched out and purposefully ripped the fabric is, and I’m sat on my vanity table in my room with my arched back facing the mirror, my long black hair obscuring most of the sheerness of my spine. 

Is that a truce? Liking a picture where I’m wearing something so akin to the slip that broke us this morning? If he did, then that’s an intelligent move in the chessboard of all toxicity. 

And I like it. 

I blush, profusely. But then another notification rings through my living room and Jungkook stills beside me. We share a look, both of our mouths parted, before he steals my phone, though I slap his back and retrieve it from his grasp, the shifting causing the message to get opened. 

I run a hand down my face. “You clicked on it and now he can see I’ve read it, Jungkook.” 

He merely laughs. “So what? Read it.” 

I groan, tipping my chin, focusing my gaze on the letters, and my heart thrashes in my ribcage. And their meaning propels it to fly on the wings of my butterflies. 

The letters tremble in tandem with my hand as I read them. 

“I’m sorry for my behavior this morning, you didn’t deserve that. I hope you allow me to make it up to you as best as I can. Car drive tomorrow at 8 PM? Food’s on me, you just bring your playlist, moon kitty. And your sneakers. Yoongi. Jungkook gave me your number.” 

My heart stops mid-flight. And I don’t see Jungkook’s eyes abounding in the glow of the stars. Neither do I hear his laughter and his praises for Yoongi because I walk backwards into myself. 

Bring your sneakers. 

I see myself getting hit for wearing heels. I don’t feel the pain, but I have a glimpse of the bruise forming on my cheek, a patch of red and purple staining me for weeks only because I wanted to feel pretty and feminine on our date night. And before Jungkook’s voice can get to me, the echo of Ji-hoon’s command fans out in me. 

You won’t dress like a slut when you’re with me. Take them off. That dress, too. And wear your sneakers. 

I was forced to wear jeans and Nike’s to a fancy restaurant while he sported nice pants and a polo. And much to his dismay, and later to mine as well, I still received stares and smiles. From men and women alike. 

The memory splinters at the sound of Jungkook’s voice. And I perceive that it’s just that. 

A memory. 

I didn’t dissociate. 

And vulnerability clutches me so tightly that I shrivel and don’t think before I fold myself into Jungkook, hugging him until the memory completely evaporates. 

Jungkook pets my head as I bury it deeper into his chest. “What’s wrong?” 

“Just a memory,” I heave, blinking rapidly, and Jungkook holds me to him, sifting his fingers through my hair. 

“Are you okay?” he murmurs, continuing with the movement that intersperses mollification all over my being, and I nod. 

As long as I have my best friend, I will be okay. 

“It happened this morning, too,” I admit, unafraid, and Jungkook stills for a moment. “When Yoongi got up from this couch, I thought I was gonna get hit again. And now when I read that he wants me to wear sneakers, I remembered the way Ji-hoon hit me because I wore heels that one time. But it wasn’t so bad. I didn’t dissociate. Your prayer helped.” 

Jungkook curls around me and holds me tighter, putting me back together, and I let him. 

I let him because there’s nothing else for me to do. 

There’s no one else for me. 

“He’s not here anymore. He’s not in your life. I broke his leg, remember? He can’t walk back into your life.” 

It’s the only memory, where he’s present, that brings me pleasure: Jungkook finding out I was a victim of domestic abuse and chasing him all over the city until he yanked him by the back of his shirt and beat him until he was unrecognizable. He broke his leg by purposefully driving over it with his motorcycle upon leaving, considering the deed done. 

“Every time your bad memories come back to haunt you, remember this one,” Jungkook advises and I pleat his words, stuffing them somewhere inside my sternum, where I can return to them and remember them like he said. Use them as a weapon.

Something tells me that now I shall need it more than I ever have before.

“Yoongi isn’t like him, I promise,” he continues, seeping his boyish warmth into my skin as he cups my face and makes me look at him. I feel as though I have run a marathon with the way I breathe spasmodically and Jungkook sees me, composes me by leading me to take deep breaths that subdue my nerves. “I regretted letting him take you home but for a far different reason. Underneath all that pain is a good person. A romantic that has lost his hope, but if there’s anything I can depend on, it’s the fact that Yoongi will find what he’s lost. And he’s halfway there. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have texted you.” 

I ponder his words, my heart collecting all those stars that have plummeted from the heavens, and, internally, I use their light to help me comprehend the deeper meaning behind his words. A romantic that has lost his hope. I wonder what meadow of agony he walked through—and I wonder how much it would devastate me if I ever were permitted to place my bare feet upon his footprints on that flowery soil. 

“You can trust him because I trust him.”

I slide the star clips beneath the space buns I twisted his hair in and I nod. 

“Let’s text him back.” 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, @hobiberrystuff, @kam9404, @fr0ggieth1nk.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist | READ third part

[sugar-omi]

Now you got me thinking of MC who notices cove stealing her panties and leaves the good ones on top for him to find (burying the🩸granny panties at the bottom)

Or she notices the cum on her bikini bottoms and she’s gross like him and just happily wears them as a new way to tease him

HELP NOT THE 🩸GRANNY PANTIES ik thats right. id be furious if he saw those LMFAO

but yes imagine feeding into his fetish without him even knowing...

all your new underwear are your and his favorite colors, and traditionally sexy colors like red, black, or even white.

ohh the white ones would get him going... he'd be so turned on seeing the white underwear. makes him start thinking about what you'd wear on your wedding day

he'd spiral, imagining you in a garter belt and thigh highs. starts thinking about what you'd get up to on the wedding night...

it'd be easy to tell if someones taken your underwear, especially since sometimes i think he gets a bit greedy.. taking 2 pair at a time on occasions...

or you favorite pair coming up missing just as frequently as you wear them.

of course they reappear just as easy as they disappeared. cove is across the street after all, and it's not like he has to fight to get through your door.

so yeah, you may not notice at first. but god when you do it's so easy to see who it is. and the fact it turns you on feels criminal

but you feed into it anyway.

leaving a risqué, lacy panty on top of your laundry. or purposefully bending over in front of cove, letting him see what you're wearing today

and even though he washes them out before he returns them to you, i wonder if they still smell like him, smells like his laundry detergent.

or when he sneaks into your bathroom while visiting or using your shower after a day at the beach, the scent of his cum and sweat soaked is into the fabric, your scents merging together on your undies

it's disgusting. it's so fucking disgusting. so why does knowing that he jerked off with your undies before sitting besides you at dinner turn you on?

and it's just as disgusting that you masturbate with that soiled pair of underwear in your hand, pressing the fabric against your nose and your thighs trembling around your wrist as you try to tame the heat in the pit of your stomach

and when he uses your bikini bottoms to get off.. of course you left your swimsuit laid out on the bed on purpose. an open invitation to use them, stain them. soil them with the musky scent of his cock, stain them with his cum, anything. you just need something in return...

you're stand outside the door while cove "changes", straining to listen to his muffled gasps, his low curses and hisses of your name. sliding your hand over your dress, rubbing at your clit through the thin fabric of your clothes.

you wanna see his face, you wanna hear him moan that pretty, raspy moan right in your ear. you wanna see how his cock twitches and leaks all over you hand...

you really want to bust into your room and "catch" him using your panties, push him on the bed and use him, punish him for doing something so dirty, so fucking disgusting, and pathetic

but you also wanna see how long you can drag it out. see how long it'll take for someone to snap, or someone to make a move...

of course you wait to knock on the door once you hear a deep groan, presumably cut off by cove covering his mouth. and your heart is jumping out your chest when you hear him stumbling around to get dressed

you can hardly contain your excitement. your thrill.

you have cove in the palm of your hand and he doesn't even know.. you see that blush on his cheeks,

he plays it off like it's just the weather. and it is hot today. but he looks way too thrilled to be troubled by california heat. there's a spark in his eyes and he's standing up straighter...

he clearly thinks he's gotten away with it. but even if you didn't leave your bikini out on purpose, you feel the wet patch on your bottoms, you can smell his scent when you bring the bottoms to your nose, the fabric thick with the scent of sex and cum.

you can let him be arrogant for a little longer, eventually, one way or another, cove will come get what he wants without sneaking around

maybe making it harder for him, making him sweat... will make him crack?

[mt-oe]

Hello! This is a little embarrassing but I’ve been feeling really insecure lately and I was wondering if you could do a modern Mizu x reader story about Mizu would go about showing you she likes/loves you the way you are? 💜💙

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dear!

Thank you so much for requesting and please don't ever feel embarrassed about your own feelings. Though your feelings are valid, please remember that you're much more than your insecurities.

I hope that you feel better soon and some how this fic will comfort you <3

Enjoy! Mwa mwa :*

warning: not proofread, light touching (mdni!), she/her for mizu, implied afab reader

It was a long day at work for Mizu. She had been running around everywhere, calculating the total cost of the materials needed for her client's dream house and going to different suppliers to find the best deals and prices. Upon arriving home, the exhaustion that was previously weighing down on her shoulders evaporated almost immediately.

The cozy interior of your shared apartment warmed her up, inside and out. Souvenirs from places you had visited together decorated the shelves along with various photo albums and books. Her eyes scanned through the photos of you and her together as she walked up the stairs, a habit she developed ever since you decorated the place.

Each picture excited her even more, making her pick up the pace. She wanted to see you so bad. To hold you. To kiss you. To pretend she's too tired so you'd keep asking her to tell you all about her day. But just as she opened the door...

"Holy shit!" you almost screamed, immediately scrambling to put your shirt on. You were standing in front of the mirror, half naked. It seems that you were too damn focused on what you were doing since you didn't hear her footsteps. "Don't you know how to knock?!" You turned to glare lightly at her, making her raise an eyebrow.

She set down her bag on the side, slowly approaching you. Once she was right behind you, she wrapped her arms around your shoulders and rested her chin on the top of your head. "And why would I need to knock in our own bedroom?" she asked, kissing the back of your head as her eyes traveled to the mirror. "And what are you looking at?"

A soft giggle escaped your lips at her display of affection before sighing at her question. You looked at the mirror again before looking at your girlfriend. "Do you think I'm ugly?" you asked a bit hesitant.

Mizu blinked before raising an eyebrow again. "Where is this coming from?" Her hand tilted your chin up as her blue eyes gazed deeply into yours.

"Just askin'," you mumbled, gaze traveling to the floor. Despite your response, Mizu could clearly see how troubled you are just by looking at your eyes.

She sighed before giving you a small kiss on the forehead, letting go of your chin. "Clearly this is something that's bothering you," she mumbled back. "So tell me, dove. What's going on?"

Nothing really gets past your girlfriend, huh?

Your gaze turned towards the mirror again, holding back the frown that was tugging on the corners of your lips. "Its not that big of a deal. I just saw a modelling video earlier and they were all so pretty and sexy and...and I thought 'damn, I'm pretty darn ugly, aren't I?'," you explained with an awkward laugh, trying to keep your tone light to not soil the mood.

Your words made Mizu's heart sink. You? Ugly?

Oh hell nah. In her eyes, you're the prettiest goddamn person in the world.

Sure those models in that video you saw was probably pretty too. But that was their job for fuck's sake. They're supposed to look good. They put a lot of effort into looking good.

But you?

You were effortlessly pretty. The moment you woke up—no, even before you woke up—you already completed her day as soon as she saw you. And on the days you did put effort into looking better? It wasn't obvious but she was absolutely smitten. It was as if anything you did enamored her in a way even she couldn't understand. She was so down bad.

There was no fucking way she's letting you call yourself ugly.

"Stop saying something so stupid. You're not ugly," she said in a low voice, eyes staring into yours through the reflection on the mirror. Her hands traveled down, tracing your curves, before landing on your hips. She hooked her fingers under the garter of your panties, pulling on it slightly before releasing it, making it snap lightly as she placed her hands on your hips again. She gave it a firm squeeze, making your breath hitch. "These hips.."

Her hand trailed up, slipping under your shirt. You could feel her nails raking against your stomach lightly, barely even scratching your skin. The sensation sending goosebumps across your skin. "This stomach..."

A slight smirk crawled up her lips as she bent down to kiss the side of your neck, making you let out a shaky breath. "And these?" Her hands continued to travel up, making their way under your bra to give your boobs a firm squeeze. "God fucking damn..." she groaned out in a whisper-like manner as you moaned softly. "You're so fucking beautiful."

You couldn't help but chuckle before pulling her hands away. "You're such a horn dog," you laughed, turning to face her and giving her a kiss.

Mizu chuckled as well, eyes scanning your face, taking in every detail. The way your eyelashes fluttered. The slight blush on your cheeks. The texture of your skin. The slight sheen on your lips, probably from the kiss. Everything was so beautiful to her.

"And you're the prettiest woman I've ever met," she replied before placing a kiss on your lips. "Honestly...I don't understand how you can't see what I see."

She planted another kiss on your lips, holding you closer as you kissed back. The kiss deepened almost immediately. Your tongues intertwining and dancing against each other. Her hands immediately went to your back to support you as she kissed you eagerly.

Slowly, you pulled away upon feeling the burn in your lungs from the lack of oxygen. You looked up at her, giggling as you watched her breathing deeply. "Am I really that pretty to you? You're not lying just to make me feel better?"

A snort escaped her lips before she shook her head, resting it on your shoulder. "I could never do that to you," she mumbled. "Not when I wake up every morning thinking about how lucky I am to have you."

You gently lifted Mizu's head, making her raise an eyebrow and her smile to widen. Mizu wasn't really the vocal, affectionate type but she tries and you knew that. The amount of effort she put into her words truly told you how special you were to her. "So how was your day at work?" you asked.

Mizu laughed, wrapping around your hips to slowly guide you to the bed. "Mmm? 'm too tired to tell you.." she playfully groaned out, suddenly pretending to be too exhausted. You let out a whine, sitting down on the soft mattress. "Oh c'mon! Tell me!"

The smile remained on Mizu's lips as she sat down next to you, still pretending to be too exhausted. She definitely loved it when you pestered her to tell you all about her day. You were adorable.

She loves your appearance, your personality, and your quirky habits and mannerisms.

But most of all, she loves you.

Just the way you are.

[kakujis]

if i could just get my hands on you.

feat: bonten!mikey, kokonoi, kakucho, + sanzu. i really wanted to put the haitani brothers in but i cant think of anything rn ;-;. afab! reader x bonten.

a/n: this probably, most definitely ooc bc lets be real they would most likely not hold back(unless ur kakucho) but this was self indulgent for me!

warnings: i say “maybe” a lot. face-fucking (kokonoi), voyeurism + panty!! stealer!! kakucho my beloved!!!, a bit of angst, drug mentions/usage(sanzu), squint and there’s some yan, oral f! receiving(sanzu). minors dni.

manjiro sano always gets what he wants. it doesn't matter if it's something as simple as taiyaki or becoming the most notorious gang in japan. every request is met with a "yes, sir.” but for some reason, mikey, just can't have you. his pretty receptionist. he’s not entirely sure why he doesn't just order you into his room, bullying his way into your tight cunt and fucking you dumb. maybe it's the way you always smile at him, even as he's just ordered sanzu to kill the three rival gang grunts begging for their lives off-site. or maybe it's the way you make him his tea every morning, doing your best to make sure its just right and none of it spills. you're so sweet to him and yet every time he touches you, he feels the way you stiffen. the way you begin to tremble when he gets too close. he thinks you shine brighter than the sunlight that peeks through the curtains onto his desk. perhaps, there is still a piece of the old mikey left, because he just can't bring himself to hurt you. so instead, he fucks the next whore that sanzu throws at him wishing it was you.

due to his massive amount of wealth, kokonoi hajime, loves to spoil his girls. anything they want, he gives, as long as he gets what he wants in return. which means face-fucking them until he shoots his load down each one of their throats, throwing them away until he calls them up again with another tempting wad of cash and the promise of luxury. you walked in on him once, trying to fulfill one of mikey’s orders. a small gasp left your mouth once you realized what was happening. you shut your eyes, immediately apologizing and slamming the door. after that incident kokonoi wanted you to see him again. he’d think about it every time he shoved his cock deep into one of his playthings. would you run away again? probably. or maybe, you'd join in and beg him to take you next. he'd like that, he thinks, as he slams into one of his girls, a bit frustrated that her moans and wails were doing nothing for him. ah, if only he had the guts to ask mikey if he'd want a new receptionist.

kakucho is in love with you. every morning, he waits to hear you greet him. and every night, he waits for you to take his blood stained coat off and welcome him home. unfortunately for him, you do that for all of them. bonten's little maid, who runs around the base tending to each and every one of them. sure, they have the money and the access to all the top doctors in japan, but most of the time you're enough. as japan's top gang, no one really ever stands a chance against them in a fight and anyone who does is promptly shot. he feels so guilty, stroking himself with your used undies, outside your bathroom door. he drinks in your sweet voice as you hum a familiar tune, his little songbird. he desperately wishes he could slip inside your shower, your back arching against his chest, fingers sinking deep into your cunt. he imagines kissing you to swallow your moans, hand coated in your slick as he fucks you thoroughly on his fingers. ever so gently, he’d ease you onto his aching dick, feeling the flutter of your plush walls. he thinks you’d look so beautiful, more than usual, being bounced on his cock, water running down your body. he climaxes quickly once he hears the water switch off, stuffing your soiled panties into his pocket. he hopes you won’t notice this is your third missing pair.

sanzu haruchiyo needs you to need him. its only fair considering how badly he needs you. when he finds himself slipping from reality or sobering up from a bad trip, your voice always calls out to him. “sanzu… sanzu?” he blinks, your fuzzy form bringing some much needed company. as he continues sobering up, you always bring a cup of water to his lips, coaxing him to drink. it’s mind numbingly sweet the way you swipe at his scarred mouth when some liquid drips. you always dim the lights as well, not wanting to overstimulate him as he sobers up. if he wasn’t so fucked up he’d probably pounce on you then, ripping your clothes to shreds as he dives face first into your pussy. sanzu wants to feel the tug on his pink locks, envisioning how you would desperately grind on his face inching closer and closer to completion. what he would give to taste you just one time, to be completely soaked in your juices. he could probably eat you out for hours, licking and sucking on your poor puffy clit. maybe he’d tongue fuck you next, ignoring your pleas and overstimming you until you’re a trembling mess on his bed. but those are just dreams and by the time he’s grounded in reality, you’re gone, back to mikey’s office.

[noturlondonboy]

Werewolf. Were… Wednesday?

Part 2

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Enid Sinclair

Werewolf Wednesday AU

A/N: here’s some more :)

She wasn't allowed to visit the infirmary until lunch, so Enid was out of her seat and running through the hallways as soon as the bell rang. Making a stop at the cafeteria to grab a steak for herself and a stray pomegranate for Wednesday was the only time she was willing to spare.

Wednesday was sitting up in a cot while a nurse fiddled with the IV bag attached to her arm, but the golden mixture had been scrubbed clean from her skin and the soiled uniform had been replaced with just her underthings- a black tank top and leggings.

She immediately snapped her head over to Enid when she heard the door open, and the werewolf closed it behind her before setting the food down and flinging herself at her roommate. "Wednesday oh my gods I'm so sorry I thought I was getting better at not dropping things but I-"

Wednesday shushed her with a finger against her lips, but she made no move to wiggle from the embrace. Enid sniffed and let go a moment later, rubbing her eyes quickly. "Sorry, sorry. I was just so worried. Are you okay? You're okay, right?"

Wednesday watched her closely, head tilted almost curiously. It was adorable. "Yes, Enid, I'm fine. They got me cleaned up and took some tests, and Mr. Fatoshti gave me an anti-effect agent to take in case the potion had time to seep into my pores."

Enid pulled a chair over to the cot and sat, offering Wednesday the pomegranate. "Do you know what would happen if it did?"

"I'm assuming some twisted version of shapeshifting, as was the desired effect of the potion in the first place." She took the fruit with a nod and started peeling it meticulously, popping a handful of seeds into her mouth. Enid made a gagging motion when she swallowed them whole, instead of spitting the seeds out once she had eaten the meat of the fruit. Wednesday gave her a smirk, but said nothing.

Enid sighed and ignored the steak she had grabbed, laying her cheek down against the cot while Wednesday ate. Her fingers and lips were stained a bloody red (probably why it was her favorite) and once the fruit was gone she tossed the empty shell into a trash bin. "You need to eat your steak, Enid. Lunch is almost over and you get anxious when you're hungry," she stated, sucking her fingers clean of pomegranate juice.

Enid followed the motion, blushing and snapping her gaze back down to the bedsheets when Wednesday stopped, her tongue still out against the pad of her thumb and obsidian eyes narrowed at her.

She decided to keep her eyes down and toy with the bedsheet. "Not hungry," she mumbled.

Wednesday's hand was suddenly under her chin, cold fingers lifting her head to face the girl. Dark eyes stared into her with a heat Enid couldn't interpret. "Enid. Be a good puppy; eat your food."

And all she really could do was comply with an order like that from Wednesday Addams.

----

The first real problem that Enid noticed was a few days later during the weekend, when Wednesday was walking back to their table at the Weathervane with two coffee orders in hand. The girl had seemed especially irritable today, and only the promise of caffeine had gotten her out of the safety of their dorm with Enid.

The blonde took her cup from Wednesday's outstretched hand with a grateful hum, immediately downing a fourth of it even as it was scalding hot. Her roommate watched amicably, an eyebrow raised.

"That loose tongue of yours is going to melt right out of your mouth if you keep that up." Enid only shrugged and continued to sip at it. "I would pay money to see that," Wednesday continued, her head cocking for a moment before she brought her mug to her lips and took a careful swallow. She sighed almost happily, leaning back in her chair and continuing to drink. "As bitter as Death herself. Perfect."

Enid's amused retort was cut off by a shadow on the table in front of them. She looked up, a bit startled, to see a lightly tattooed girl about a year older than her with cropped curls and an easy smile.

"Hey, I'm Stella, I just started working here at the Weathervane. Wanted to stop by and make sure everything was to your satisfaction," she greeted with an accent, hands in her pockets.

Enid beamed. "Oh! Everything's perfect, thank you! I'm Enid. Nice to meet you!"

Stella laughed at her enthusiasm, shaking Enid's offered hand. "I also just wanted to say hello and ask if you were free tonight?" She winked softly, hands clasped behind her back.

Enid stopped, her brain taking a moment. "Oh! Like- like a-"

"Like a date? Yes Enid," Stella grinned.

The blonde felt a rush of heat over her cheeks as she clasped her hands around her cup. A boot suddenly kicked her in the shin -hard- before she could respond, and Enid yelped, leaning down to rub at the tender skin.

"She's busy. We have a study date," a dark voice hissed, and Enid glanced back up to see Wednesday towering over Stella, even with a height difference of five inches. The barista looked slightly alarmed, backing up a step as Wednesday advanced. An aggressive pheromone hit Enid's nose, and she shook her head, convinced she was just smelling things.

"Woah, mate, no need to get bloodthirsty, a girl can speak for herself-"

"She's. Taken." Wednesday seemed to loom menacingly with an almost inhuman growl in the back of her throat, and Stella nodded hurriedly with stammered acceptance as she bolted back to the front counter.

Enid scowled in bewilderment and opened her mouth to chastise her roommate, but Wednesday had a steel grip on her wrist and was tugging her out of the door without a moment's notice.

"We're leaving," she ground out, footsteps thudding loudly. Enid barely had time to grab her coffee.

But her eyes darted over something curious before she was completely pulled from the establishment. A crack that definitely wasn't there before was spiked through Wednesday's half full coffee mug, and a twin set of jagged scratches were etched into the table on either side of it.

Were those... claw marks?

[escapismmaxing]

mudwing headcanons

(PLEASE click on her she is so beautiful to me and tumblr kills her with hammers)

physical traits

another huge tribe; longer than ice wings, shorter, but very bulky and muscle-y (think alligator)

alligator is pretty much the keystone of my design for them, and also their design is probably the most canon compliant one i have (said moments before i go against this)

i do like the idea of giving them thicker tails, more adjacent to seawings than any other land dwelling tribe, and also just leaning into the swampy aspect of them more

depending on how aquatic of an environment they’re incubated in (and also depending on parent’s genetics) a mudwing can hatch with fins! it’s not entirely uncommon (fins smaller than seawing fins)

mudwings can have tail fins, fins running down their stomach, and their neck. this is distinct from seawings as mudwings never have fins running down their spine or fins on their limbs

mudwings have HUGE horns and ears to siphon heat away from their face

they also have a throat sac like icewings! they produce a variety of throat song, mostly akin to various frog sounds

also,,, tusks protruding from their lower jaw! (that i just realized i forgor to draw,,,,) this is used for foraging, and also agriculture (tilling soil, etc) which mudwings are particularly proficient in

mudwings also tend to have ecosystems growing from them,, algae and duckweed etc on their backs, necks, and tops of heads which helps camouflage them

speaking of camouflage,, colors,,,, well you know

mudwings only being brown is actually the most boring concept i've ever heard 😭so they’re not! brown is still the most common, green is also very common, muted reds, oranges, and yellows as accents float around as well

culture <3 (social structure)

okay i actually love the SCRAPS of culture content we have of the mudwings

so i guess i want to start out with family structure and community,,,

the whole “breeding night” is so fucking funny to me,,, and it’s staying. i will keep it. i think this can also coexist with courting and mating and committing to another dragon singularly, and maybe all mudwing communities just consist of really complicated polycules 

although parents aren’t always directly and singularly involved in the raising of their clutches, the adults still communally raise/look after the hatchlings, even if it’s somewhat from a distance

also, i think clutches know their parents and vice versa, even if there’s no special connection, you have to avoid incest somehow,,,,

so sib groups grow up together and rely on one another, like how it is in canon

if a bigwings egg is a “dud” and doesn’t hatch or is,,, abducted from the nest for the purpose of a false prophecy,,,, it’s actually really detrimental to the other eggs and can put them at risk to not hatch

clay’s sibs successfully hatching and growing up is,, a miracle im saying. the bigwings is the CRUX of everything. first to hatch, fastest to develop, grows the biggest, etc etc

i also think bigwings can produce fire at a slightly wider range of temperatures in order to keep their sibs warm if they’re ever under duress

on the topic of clutches and bigwings and,, everything

one egg clutches are considered crazy bad luck, and they need a lot of maintenance from an older dragon in order to actually hatch

if it’s feasible (like a clutch of a bigger size was laid on the same day) the single egg will be transplanted into that bigger clutch asap

also a similar feeling about 2 egg clutches, but it's not as bad

single and 2 egg clutches happen VERY frequently with hybrids, so often a hybrid will be in another sib group and all of their sibs go “yes they are us. oh they’re purple? they’re literally us what do you mean”

on the topic of hybrids, seawing and mudwing hybrids are insanely common, to the point where the majority of mudwings on that border are at least a liiiiitle bit seawing

there’s a lot of communal learning and passing down traditions in agriculture, farming, and animal rearing, and oftentimes a family farm is passed down from one sib group to another

(i don’t only make humble farmer mudwings though, there’s also a lot of artisans, scholars, the equivalent of dragon environmentalists, etc)

so moving away from family groups and stuff,,,,, onto wider society, let’s start with the royal family

mudwings pass the crown down from eldest daughter to eldest daughter, through a “royal” line

basically, one group of sibs has the crown, then the oldest/first clutch will be promised the crown, but it can very easily be abdicated and passed to a different clutch if the oldest clutch doesn’t want it or seems not fit to rule

there’s not a lot of competition for the crown because sib groups rule together, and the queen position really doesn’t mean anything, at most acting as a tiebreaker

obviously, sibs never fight sibs for the crown. that’s like speed running a revolution from the mudwing commoner population. but also, cousins don’t tend to fight either because of this strong wider communal feeling

fashion, jewelry,,

i think mudwings don’t have a lot of fashion/accessories because of how swampy and wet their environment is. royals will have jewels embedded into their scales (like moorhen) but even this requires somewhat regular cleaning to actually look,, pretty and shiny? so it’s not common

other jewelry consists of tight bands of wood and clay around horns, clay earrings, rings and armbands

clay jewelry is especially common! including clay beads that represents their sibs

clay fired earrings, strings of clay beads draped across the body, etc is commonly found

jobs! (and also a rant on cuisine apparently)

briefly touched on earlier, idk how much expanding i’ll do here tbh

farming is pretty common, crops including rice, cranberries, watercress, taro, water spinach, water chestnuts,,,, you get the point. there’s a lot of crops to be grown and mudwings grow them!

not in monocultures though, there’s a lot of mixing of crops on the same farmland

also with farmers, animals are raised! but closer to the less swampy edges of the kingdom

they’re still partially wild honestly, but mudwings rear cows and boars very commonly

so much of mudwing economy revolves around food, so they have a very robust cuisine, and they grow/trade for a lot of spices and herbs (with the skywings) and they have a lot of practices surrounding food/sharing of food being sacred

oh god.,,,, the tangent is taking over,, im so sorry

marriage!! i think when mudwings want to get married there’s a long string of cooking for one another!! back and forth making beautiful dishes for one another until they make a beautiful dish TOGETHER. god i love them

aside from farmers, a lot of mudwings are artists! they carve wood and make clay sculptures and jewelry as well as weave baskets and jewelry and thatched roofs from fronds and other wide-leafed plants

pottery is also common

tanners make leather from cow and boar hide, and bookbinders make books (after contact with pantala) and trade with sandwings for dried parchment

also butchers, cheesemakers (cows milk)

as well, the typical circle of scholars and nobles that keep rigorous records on the queendom’s history

and of course, royal diplomats

religions/superstitions

less superstitious than icewings perhaps,, but i do think they have some shared beliefs

perhaps just in a “mother earth” “all mother” type of concept? a dragon that gave them swamps, and then all other life came from swamps, etc

of course, the egg superstitions from earlier

there’s a lot of superstitions/outright magic about sharing food and the etiquette around sharing food

oh, one of you dropped your utensil while eating? in the future you’re going to save each other from mortal danger

someone gifting dishware is considered a proposal,, but it can be platonic or romantic

the monarch spilled their drink? the rainy season will be rainier this year

just a lot of really niche things

yoppee, i love mudwings so much. i think there is so much untapped potential and what we have now is beautiful. love drawing them, love their color palettes, love their sib groups. yeah not much else to say here. as always, send a dm or an ask if you want to know about something further!

[glitteringsunshine]

Pairing : Leroy Jethro Gibbs x Reader wife

Jethro's   POV:

I enter home and the delicious smell of dinner hits my nose. I see Y/N cooking pasta. I tried to dip my finger and taste the sauce but she swats my hand away.

“ So is this your way of telling sorry ?” I smirk.

“ Yes. Well technically  not for apologising  for what I did but for the trouble I put you and your team in” she says with her eyes staring at the floor.

I pulled her chin up. “ So stealing  a cellphone logged into evidence, contacting a world renowned spy , luring him into US soil, that’s okay for you.” I say angrily.

“ Hey , NCIS ‘s agenda was catching the navy personnel leaking secrets.  We tried to do it the official way , asking you to cut that guy a deal to get to our spy, her handler, or give up his cellphone to get his  location, but you were more interested in protecting  navy secrets that you don’t want to share with state. We had to act. You got the small fish, but we required the big fish who tried to wrecked havoc in the relationship  between  our allies, sabotaging talks and treaties things that you guys are not even aware of. “ She sighs.

“ You stole evidence, not a big deal. We have the confession , other evidences. But I wish  you would have told me.  I could have helped you. Damn it Y/N , why didn’t you trust me?”

“ Plausible deniability Jethro. I didn’t  want you to get in trouble at work. I mean state and defence don’t always see eye to eye. I didn’t want you to get caught in the crossfire.”

“ Y/N love , I understand  what you did. You were doing  your job. But that doesn’t mean  I am not angry.”

“ I know Jethro” she said gently cupping my face and brushing her lips against mine.  

“Kids are at their sleepover?” I ask as she nods in the affirmative.

I grabbed her wrists , pushed her against the wall and pinned her helps on top of her head.  I kissed her demandingly.  I carried her on to the bed and laid her down. Getting in top of her , I pinned her arms and lifted her dress.  I pushed my fingers inside her. She was soaking.

“ No panties. Already wet . You naughty girl” I chuckle.

“ Someone’s  hard too. I can feel it” she retorts back grinning.

“ Well well well aren’t  you a brat Mrs Gibbs” I chuckle back.  Unzipping my pants I slowly slid into her with slow shallow thrusts,  earning a moan from her. I gradually increased my pace slowing everytime she was at the brink of climax.

“ Jethro” she growled. 

“ What love?” I smirked. “ What do you want baby?”  

“ Jethro , Oh fuck , Jethro?”

“Shh be a good girl baby” I whisper.

“ Ohh ohh ohh” she moans.

“ Do you wanna cum baby?”

“ Yes Jethro”

“ Then ask me nicely” I chuckle.

“ Jerk” she whispers.

“ Yes, as you say” I say slowing my pace and edging her again.

“ Jethro , Please,  please let me cum”she shouts.

I increased my pace. “ Let go baby , cum for me.” I bit down on her neck , leaving a trail of hickeys.

She unfurled at my command as her sweet moans filled our home.

“On your hands and knees” I commanded. She took her place, face on the pillow ,ass up on the air. I pinned back her hands slamming myself inside her from behind as I grabbed her hips.

 

“ Jethro , I can’t hold it any more” she gasps.

“ Go ahead baby. You can cum. You don’t need my permission.  I felt her walls convulse as she milked my cock. I gently laid her on her back before entering her again. She flipped me on my back and pinned my arms as she ground on me.  

“ If you want to be on top , just ask” I chuckle.

She built her pace moving her hips. As she reached her climax, she  let go off my hands. I grabbed her and flipped her on her back, wrapping her legs around me.

“ Y/N I am close” I whisper, my voice hoarse.

“ Me too” she whispers back.

We reached our peak together, holding each other tightly.   We panted our foreheads touching together. I claimed her lips and kissed her.  

 

“Well the pasta is all cold now” she giggled.

“ You hungry?” I ask

“ I was” she chuckles.

“ I meant the food Y/N”

“ Yea that too”

“ Gotta say I  really love my dinner, and I am not talking about food” I laugh back.  “ Don’t worry babe I will warm the pasta up.” I assured her.

“ Thanks , gotta take a shower I smell of sex” she giggles.

“ I like that” I chuckle. “ Though I would love to join  you in the shower” I grinned.

“ Yep” she giggled. I carried her to the shower. I kissed her making my way to her neck ,collarbone and then took her nipples in my mouth. Cupping and kneading her breasts, I knelt down on the floor , tonguing her clit in circles.  As I increased  my speed of eating her out,  she grabbed my hair , arching her hips on my tongue and came hard. She pulled me up, tasting herself on me. She rubbed my chest and stomach before kneeling down on her knees.  I rubbed her lips with my thumb , before she took my fingers, sucking on them ,giving me a preview  of what she intended to do. She gently rubbed her fingers on my hardness, before Licking the tip. Slowly she took me in her mouth , her tongue feeling like warm velvet. She bobbed her head up and down alternating her pace as I moaned. When the first spurt of my cum hit her mouth, she licked it. She aimed my cock rubbing it as the  second load of cum hit her breasts, before taking me inside her and swallowing the rest. I pulled her up, kissing her and Licking the cum off her breast making her cum one more time by rubbing her clit.  I held her by her waist as she put my arms around my neck.

…

After dinner I sat on the couch with her sitting in between my legs. I was gently rubbing circles on her back as she laid her head against my shoulder. I held her close to me as we kissed. “ I love you” I whisper smiling.

“ I love you too dear” she smiles back.