#I have drinks in me. I’m just fuuuuuck. I have to finish the game now.

[olgunny]

I just did joyful secret stuff or new stuff whatever and maaaan. I’m going to personally smash ricks head into the concrete. me personally, by my hand so it’ll be okay. I get to do that. i’m mad but happy we got to see what we did. Maybe i’m to much of a rick apologist but I can see at least a bit where he’s coming from. I’ve always wanted to write out something about ricks whole “cleansing” but I’m just not good with words. I don’t have the brain for it. BUT THE THING ISNT ABOUT RICK it’s got everyone involved but I just wanted rick to SHUT UP please. I’m gonna review the footage tomorrow more because i’m too worked up tonight. but, i’m happy I got to see the uncles.

old rick in the pink suit is something i’ve wanted for so long. I was gonna make it myslef. i’ve drawn it a couple of times but i’m not good at art. I was so stoked on that blue door leading to something with the uncles since the trailer came out. AND I WAS HALF KINDA TECHNICALLY RIGHT??? I just knew blue door??? looks like the rick dooooor…..

but Idk. I’m rambling like a bitch. But i’m gonna kill rick grab him by the collar of his shirt and just fuck him up. I understand that mf during wayne’s first lisa stream upon seeing rick on the screen for the first time saying like fuck rick all my homies hate rick. I get it now i’m gonna pummel him w ya now.

I get to do this because he’s my favorite character we are not the same . It’s okay when I do it

[paterson-blue]

Fine Line

Summary: Henry pays you yet another visit.

Word Count: 2,372

Warnings: Dubious consent, somnophilia, consensual somnophilia, I'm serious y'all do not come for me if you get upsetty spaghetti--this is tagged for a reason, you can have a little dead dove as a treat, afab!reader, bitter!henry, mean & angry!henry, insecure!henry, jealous!henry, possessive!henry, .... it's canon henry y'all idk what you want me to say, henry mchenry is in love and he fuuuuucking hates it, cigarette smoking, passing reference to cocaine lol, degradation (sort of?), masturbation, spit as lube but also lube as lube, unprotected piv sex, creampie oop!, lil hint of breeding kink bc it's me, chance of pregnancy is ambiguous, .... harry styles cowrote with me and I will NOT face any slander for it bye – let me know if I need to add anything else!

A/N: This is part 2 to The Night, The Flame, but can also be read as a standalone!

Just took a sleeping pill so I’m sure I’ll be out by the time you finish up. Break a leg! Let me know when you get home safe.

Henry rereads your text as he sits backstage, cigarette clenched between his teeth. It was stupid, really, for you to ask to know when he got home if you were going to be asleep already. What was the point? What if he crashed his bike on the way back--it’s not like you’d know until the morning. He’d be cold and dead on the side of the road by then.

He thinks about calling you to tell you just that, to berate you over it as the much needed nicotine courses through his veins. But there’d be no use--you were always dead to the fuckin’ world after taking a sleeping pill. You didn’t do it often; you must be having trouble sleeping this week. Henry hates how concern bubbles up within him at the thought.

He’s been hating a lot of things recently, which he supposes isn’t new--but this time feels different from the usual.

Henry sighs in annoyance, stabbing the butt of his cigarette into the nearby ashtray before finally getting back into his street clothes. The set had been a wild success, and he’d been planning on heading into the club to join the audience members. A night of drinking, women, a little coke--he needed it, needed the stress relief. He needed to relax. He’s pretty sure the girl who flashed her tits at him would be game; or, she was last time.

And then he’d seen your stupid fucking text message, and all thoughts of anyone else went out the window.

It’s not how things were supposed to be. You were supposed to be a fun piece of ass that he could come fuck whenever he wanted. That’s how it started, and that’s what you’d agreed to. You wanted to use his body as much as he wanted to use yours, and the two of you were fine with that arrangement.

But now he can’t fucking sleep with anyone else. He doesn’t want to sleep with anyone else, only you. And christ, the thought of you in another man’s bed makes Henry see red. He knows he can’t be the one you want, not all of him--not anything other than his cock. He gets it; he’s beyond fucked up and you’re not, and you both know it. He’s good in bed, he’s confident in that. But what else can he provide?

God fucking dammit he wants to scream. He’s so fucking frustrated, his previous plans dashed. All his earlier urges, his thoughts of the indulgences the club can provide--they’re gone. His fingertips twitch, and he fumbles for another cigarette on instinct, taking in a deep inhale as soon as it's lit.

He knows what he wants--what he needs. And he’s going to get it.

He takes long drags of his cigarette as he grabs his motorcycle helmet and heads outside to his bike, flatly ignoring anyone who tries to talk to him. He’s on a mission now, and he doesn’t feel like interruptions.

It doesn’t take long to get to your flat, the journey one that he’s made what feels like hundreds of times. He thinks he can make the trip with his eyes closed, each and every turn familiar, his subconscious guiding him until he parks, shutting off his bike and letting the night fall quiet.

Henry stares up towards your balcony, taking a couple deep breaths. He itches for another smoke, but he resists the urge—he doesn’t need another hit of nicotine when he has you.

He’s done this before, come to you at night while you were sleeping. It’s the entire reason you gave him a key to your place. He hadn’t wanted to take the token at first, too scared of what a key represented, too worried about what it insinuated. But you’d made such a convincing argument as to why he needed one—told him you knew he got antsy after a show, and you’d be available to him even while you slept, unconscious to his actions.

Well how could he have said no?

Yes, Henry’s done this more than enough times now to have everything down to a science. He knows how to let himself in silently, knows where to step so the floors don’t creak. It wouldn’t make a difference really—you won’t wake up, and he knows it—but it just enhances the experience, pretending that you might.

He knows you’ll be sprawled out in bed naked; you always said you got too hot at night. He knows how to move you ever so gently, letting your legs fall open to reveal your sweet, gorgeous pussy. He knows where you keep the lube; knows exactly what he needs to make sliding into you slick and easy.

He forgoes the condom this time. Usually he wore one in order to prevent any mess—to try to leave no trace of himself, so you’d be none the wiser when you awoke. But not tonight. Tonight, he’s on edge, possessive, irritated with the feelings you cause within him. He’s going to make a mess of you, leave it for you to find in the morning.

He’s going to fucking show you just who you belong to.

He’s already hard as he unzips his jeans, palming his cock through his briefs. It’s not surprising—doing this always got him going. You’re so fucking beautiful like this, spread out and vulnerable for him. The prettiest, most obscene picture for his eyes only.

Mine, he thinks to himself as he shoves his underwear down his thighs, gaze greedy. He can’t help but suck his thumb into his mouth, wetting it before moving his hand between your legs, rubbing slow circles over your clit. You twitch in your sleep, cunt pulsing--begging for his cock.

He considers pulling you to the edge of the bed--kneeling and tasting you, coating his tongue with your slick. It’s just as much for him as it is for you, though Henry’s loath to admit it. Part of the appeal, though, is your response to him--your moans, your sighs, the wriggle of your hips against his face, your fingers gripping, twisting, pulling at his hair. The pain is a high stronger than any drug can give him; your noises, euphoria. He has none of it if you’re asleep, yet he doesn’t want to wake you and spoil the current moment.

It’s another frustrating contradiction. You’ve never made things easy for him.

Henry warms the lube in his palm before giving his cock a couple strokes; it twitches in his hand, overeager. His gaze trails over your body up to your face, expression lax and peaceful where your cheek is nuzzled into your pillow. He thinks about what it would be like to have this--have you--every night. He imagines a world where he comes home to you, pulls you into his arms, rests his head on the pillow next to yours and tells you sweet, beautiful, stupid little things.

It’s unrealistic and he knows it--makes his heart clench up in his chest. That ugly green feeling rises within him once again to replace his sorrow.

Sometimes, Henry thinks he loves you so much that he hates you.

It’s a fine line.

He jerks his cock the way he wants to fuck you: hard and fast and ferocious, squeezing himself tight. His chest heaves as he struggles to gasp in quiet breaths; his lungs feel heavy, suffocated by his irrational anger, his jealousy, his resentment. Henry knows he could let go of his feelings--could free himself from the darkness that swirls in his head, in his heart. But, if he did that, he knows what feelings he would have left, and love is a far scarier thing than bitterness.

He fights the urge to wake you--to pound into you mercilessly, a hand around your throat, making you cry out for him as he stares into your eyes. He wants to punish you for making him love you, for making him weak, for making him hopeless and discontent. But, he’ll save that for later. Because he knows, despite what he tells himself, there will always be a later. He can’t stay away from you long, and you always--impossibly--welcome him back.

Instead, he forces his hands to stop their incessant movement; the lack of stimulation makes his hips jerk. Wiping his hands on the sheets, he clambers onto your bed; his cock bobs between his legs, hard and drooling. You stir slightly, and Henry settles his palms on your knees, watching your face intently--still, you remain unconscious. As soon as you settle back down, Henry wraps his long fingers around your upper thighs, spreading you open just how he needs in order for him to shuffle closer.

Your cunt twitches when he notches the head of his cock to your pretty little hole, as if trying to pull him in. It makes him groan--quietly, low in his throat. He’s already close, cock throbbing as he rubs the head through your soft folds. You’re relaxed enough like this--and probably still open from last night--that he can press in with little resistance. You make a noise akin to a sigh, but Henry’s too entranced by the sight of your pussy swallowing his cock inch by inch to check and see if you’re waking up.

It’s perfect, though it always is, having you on his cock. The lube slicks the way just enough for him to press in deep, holding himself there as your cunt flutters around him, adjusting to the intrusion. He’s so on edge--physically, emotionally, mentally; just this is enough to make his balls pulse. Henry allows himself a couple slow strokes, muscles tense as he moves his hips in deliberate, steady thrusts. Your walls grip him tight, hot and soft, sucking him back in as soon as he starts to pull out. He thinks, idly, that he could stay like this all night. Maybe he should lay down, pull you back against his chest--press his cock into you from behind, let your warm pussy milk him until morning while he nuzzles his face into your neck.

But it’s too soft a dream; too intimate an image--it’s not something he deserves. And, more than that: it’s not something he’s ever wanted before. You’ve turned him into someone else.

Henry clenches his jaw, gritting his teeth. Fucking pathetic, he thinks, both of us. Gathering saliva in his mouth, he lets it drip down onto the top of your mound before spreading it around your clit with his thick fingers. It’s messy and unrefined; if you were awake, you’d probably do that thing where you pretend not to like it. He hates that he knows your each and every reaction.

As it is, your pussy clenches on his cock, your body still giving away how much you want it even while unconscious. Each little movement of your hips, each hitch in your breathing, each furrow of your brow pulls Henry closer and closer to the edge. He rubs your clit leisurely; he’s practiced enough to know exactly how much you need to make you cum without jolting you awake.

He swears he can feel your cunt getting wetter and wetter the more he works you; he pulls out just enough to check, and groans quietly when he sees the sheen of your slick coating his cock. Pressing back into you makes him shudder, and the movement of his fingers gets sloppy; he’s desperate to feel you break, desperate to watch you shiver through your peak. He doesn’t have to wait much longer.

You make a whimper that cuts off almost as soon as it begins, a pretty frown decorating your once peaceful facial features--and then, all of a sudden, your hard little clit is pulsing underneath Henry’s fingertips. He clamps his teeth down onto his bottom lip to muffle himself as your pussy squeezes around his sensitive cock, pulling his orgasm from him. It’s all too easy: your soft walls milking him, the knowledge that you’re unaware of what you’re doing. Your body wants his cum, wants him--he’s your most basic desire. He won’t deny you what you need.

Henry’s fingertips circle your clit until your hips jerk, wanting to ride the wave of your orgasm as long as he can. The heat of his cum floods your pussy, coating his cock, leaking out onto the sheets; it makes his head spin to think that maybe--just maybe--it’ll take root. That he’ll place a piece of himself inside of you, that you’ll let that hint of darkness grow. He heaves in a sharp breath, goosebumps peppering his skin. Don’t make a fool out of yourself, the sneering voice in his head tells him.

He doesn’t move for a while after your aftershocks fade, ignoring his aching knees as he savors the moment. It’s quiet in the darkened room aside from his trembling breaths and the faint noise of the city outside. You still haven’t woken, even with the sheen of sweat decorating your skin and his cum sticking to your inner thighs. Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe this is how the two of you last. Him stealing little moments while sparing you having to be with him--maybe this was the only way he can know you.

Henry shakes the thought from his mind, finally spurring his body into motion. He doesn’t bother cleaning himself up this time, just watches the creamy white of his cum drip from your pussy as he tucks his cock back into his briefs. It makes such a pretty picture that he wants to document it, but he’s already overstayed his welcome and he knows it. So he leaves the scene as it is: your legs spread akimbo, sloppy cunt on display, sheets stained. That angry little voice within him raises its ugly head once more, telling him it’s what you deserve. He shoves the words away, draping one of your quilts over your bare form as gently as he can.

When he gets back to the safety of his apartment, he shoots you a text just as you’d requested.

Made it home. Sleep well.

_______________________________

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[comphersjost]

Hooked ➸ Morgan Rielly

this is so??? long??? i didnt mean for it to get so long but here we are ig

ALSO i know the scenes with her friends are a little different from what i usually write, but thats honestly how i am with my own friends so i wrote it from my personal experience. let me know what you think!

also keep in mind that the reader is a woc and so are her friends (again, based off of personal experiences, and slang is how we talk where i grew up)

based off of the song hooked by why don’t we

words: 3.5k+

summary: you didn’t expect to run into the Maple Leafs captain at your favorite little bar in New York, but you did. you’re a die hard Rangers fan, and now he’s set on convincing you that not all of Toronto is so bad.

warnings: smut, morgan is a cocky bastard, alcohol, woc reader, hoodrat antics and slang (based off where im from, idk if its the same in ny but yk)

find my masterlist here

listen to hooked by why don’t we here

Ooh... (you got a bad... you got... you got, yeah)

You’d met Morgan at a bar after the Leafs had playing the Rangers. You were out with a couple friends at a bar after getting dinner at some drive thru and eating and laughing at a viewpoint that your group loved. In had come a group of men, not one under 6’0. You hated yourself for recognizing them immediately. Growing up watching most professional sports caused you to recognize prospects and players of each of them, and to be specifically able to recognize the build of each type of athlete.

You’d locked eyes with Morgan across the room, and a smirk had pulled at his lips when he saw the Rangers hoodie that you were wearing, along with gray ripped jeans. You and your friends had dressed comfortable, not looking to get all dressed up for anyone. All of you were wearing jeans or leggings, and hoodies.

“What’s up, Y/N? You good?” your friend Justine nudges you, dragging your eyes back to her.

You lean in to her so she can hear your next words. “Hockey players,” you murmur. “From Toronto.” Your friend wrinkles her nose in disgust. You’d all grown up together, diehard fans of your city’s teams. The two of you look back over at the group, who had now dragged two tables together to fit everyone. You catch Morgan’s eye again, and this time he smiles wickedly, swiping his tongue along his bottom lip and dragging his eyes up and down your figure.

“That one looks like he wants to fuck you in his car.” You let out a burst of laughter at her words, though you know she’s not exactly wrong. “That’s the captain isn’t it? Morgan Rielly?” You only nod in response, not breaking eye contact with him - a challenge. He beckons for you to come over there, but you only sneer at him, turning back to the conversation at the table.

It isn't long until you can feel a presence at your back. “Hi,” comes a deep rumbling from behind you. You turn to look up at him.

“Morgan Rielly,” you say shortly. Your girls have gone quiet, watching the interaction with wide eyes.

“Hot Rangers fan,” he responds, the teasing in his tone clear.

“Good game, Cap” Justine chirps, the disdain clear in her voice. Morgan’s face breaks out into a wide smile. The game had gone into a shootout, the Leafs coming out on top by only one goal.

“Thank you!” he says cheerfully, grinning at the compliment even at Justine’s passive aggressiveness. “It was tough and we both played well.” Justine rolls her eyes, clicking her tongue at you and raising her eyebrows. You do the same back to her, a smirk playing at your lips. After the interaction between you and Justine, the other girls seem to catch on. The 6 of you were all athletes and had used clicking your tongue as a way to communicate that you were feeling some type of way about someone, something, or the opposing team since high school. It was you, Justine, Aly, Lauren, Jalin, and Deja.

You've got a bad reputation in my neighborhood

You drive me mad with temptation 'cause it tastes so good

Morgan brushes his knuckles against your arm to catch your attention. “What’s your name?” You tell him and he repeats it, causing an involuntary shiver to run down your back, straight to your core. “Can I buy you a drink?” Justine snorts next to you, and you smile knowingly at her.

“That's pretty bold of you,” you say.

“Oh yeah?” Morgan challenges, “Why’s that?”

“You’re in Ranger’s territory-” Justine sneers.

“-you’re definitely out of your element-” Aly continues.

“-with a big ass ego flirting with our girl here-” Jalin hums.

“-and we’re pretty obviously Rangers fans-” Lauren says.

“-after a pretty tough loss,” Deja quips. “So maybe that’s where all your confidence is coming from but-”

“-this is our hood,” you finish. “And you’re playing a dangerous game.”

You know I wouldn't walk away even if I could

It took one night, one try, ay

Damn, I'm hooked (oh)

“Your hood, huh?” an amused, and slightly awed, smile plays on his lips. “I play a dangerous game for a living, Y/N, one I’m pretty good at, in fact. I think I can handle you. All of you, actually. Even with this weird in sync thing you girls have going on here.”

“We’re just on the same wavelength,” you grin at your friends, and they all smile back at you and smirk at Morgan.

“One drink?” Morgan wagers, “If you decide that you can’t handle my stupidly handsome and talented self, then you’re welcome to leave me wherever I am.”

“One drink,” you say, nudging Justine with your elbow as you stand. Morgan’s hand on your back feels hot, even through multiple layers as he leads you to the bar. You raise an eyebrow when he pulls a stool out for you, and he simply shrugs, giving you a small smile that almost seems...shy.

You were there when I was low, you held me high

And, baby, when you take control, we can go all night

Morgan was a lot more fun than you had been expecting, he made you laugh until you were in tears. But he also made you shudder when he looked at you, eyes gone dark. Your stomach knotted itself, the low ache of arousal in your core making it difficult to focus on what he was saying.

There were times when his teammates would come up to whisper something in his ear, and you would be thrown back into reality. No matter how fine and funny he is, this man is a Leaf. But then he’d look back at you with those eyes and bite his lip and all of those thoughts flew out the window.

Needless to say, he’d asked you to come back to his hotel, and spent hours with his head between your thighs. He murmured praises against your skin, along with “C’mon, come for me, the Leafs don’t seem all that bad now, huh?”

“Fuck you!” you groaned, tugging at his hair.

“As you wish.” You wanted to slap the grin off Morgan’s face, but then he was sinking into you and oh shit. He was long and thick and felt so good. “Fuuuuuck, Y/N,” he moans, “You feel so fucking good, baby.” He was intent on making you admit that not all the Leafs were as bad as you thought, and you spent the rest of the whining and squirming underneath him.

Every single place we go, you start a fight

But then you kiss my neck and take a bite

Morgan had come back multiple times over the course of the next 6 months, inexplicably finding you every time. Granted, you frequented the bar he’d first seen you at many times. But somehow the night always ended with the two of you in either his hotel room or your apartment. He stopped trying to bring up hockey after the fourth time you’d fucked, knowing that as much as it helped rile you up so he could bring you back down with wet kisses pressed into your neck, it pissed you off.

Something you found out on the first night, was that Morgan loved to bite. He had a thing for marking ‘what was his’ as he put it, but with your brain foggy with arousal, you chose to overlook the comment. Besides, you liked being marked up by him, it gave you something to keep from him every time he left again. He was good, an attentive lover, and everything you wanted in a partner. But again, he was a Leaf, and it wouldn't work.

Everybody says I'm sleeping with the enemy

I don't even care if you're gonna be the death of me, me, me

You hated Toronto, the thought of moving there made you sick. And worse, Morgan would be there. The one-turned two-turned three-turned however many night stands with the Maple Leafs captain had only strengthened your cold feet about taking this position in Toronto. It wasn’t the fact that you were moving, you’d moved many times in your life, but New York would always be home.

“You sure you’ll be okay over there?” Jalin’s concerned voice came through your phone. A chorus of questions came after that from the rest of the girls.

“Don't worry, Jay,” you respond, placing the call on speaker so you could move some boxes around, “All of you, don't worry. It’s not super permanent, and I’ll be back eventually.” You could tell that Jalin didn't believe a single word out of your mouth, and honestly, neither did you. But this was too good of an opportunity to pass up in your company, and you’d be damned if your hate for the city and its sports teams was going to keep you from taking it.

“You let us know if you need us okay?” Deja piped up, “You know we’ll get over there ASAP. We’ll drive or fly it doesn't matter.”

“I know Dej, I love you guys, but I’ll be okay.” After assuring your friends that you’d be alright, multiple times, you ended the call, placing your hands on your hips and surveying the boxes piled up in your new apartment. You’d avoided thinking about Morgan for weeks, since you got the offer for a promotion, but now he’d snuck back into your head. You shook your head to clear thoughts of running into him here, pulling on a Rangers hoodie and grabbing your keys. Besides, it wasn't like there was anything you could do about it, you didn't even have his number.

You've got a bad reputation in my neighborhood

You drive me mad with temptation 'cause it tastes so good

You pause the music coming through your headphones when you walk into a coffee shop two blocks away from your apartment, lingering awkwardly near to the door as you survey your options on the menu behind the bar. You jump when a pair of arms wrap around your upper body, pulling you against a strong chest that felt all too familiar.

“Looks like you’re in my hood now,” he hums, dropping his head to your shoulder. “What do you think you’re doing walking around wearing a Rangers hoodie in Leafs territory?”

“Hello to you too, Morgan,” you lean back against the giant of a man behind you, letting your hands trail over his bare forearms.

“Mmmm,” he drops kisses along your neck and jaw. “What’re you doing in Toronto?”

“Work,” you turn around in his arms as you answer. “Got a promotion offer that I couldn't refuse.” Morgan’s eyes light up.

“Congratulations!” he grins at you, “And welcome to Toronto. Let me buy you coffee? I can show you around?”

You know I wouldn't walk away even if I could

It took one night, one try, ay

Damn, I'm hooked

You should've said no. You should've said no. But you didn't. Because you couldn't resist him, he was like a drug that you couldn't escape. The feeling of his lips alone was enough to get you addicted, much less his arms, his voice, his thighs, his hands, his cock...

Ooh... I'm hooked

You let Morgan pay for your coffee as well as his own, and he made conversation as you waited for your drinks, asking you about your job, the move, and your new apartment.

Ooh... I know that I shouldn't touch but you twist my arm

'Cause I can never get enough once the feeling starts

You shouldn't have taken his hand when he offered it to you leaving the café. You shouldn't have let him lead you through the streets of Toronto. You shouldn't have let him point out tourist attractions, and good restaurants, and his favorite places in the city as you walked.

Baby, I'm the gasoline and your kiss is the spark

But then you take the wheel and crash my car

You shouldn't have let him walk you home. You shouldn't have let him keep holding your hand. You shouldn't have let him kiss you.

And you shouldn't have invited him in.

Everybody says I'm sleeping with the enemy

I don't even care if you're gonna be the death of me, me, me

Mo didn't seem to mind the mess of unpacked boxes stacked around your living room, too focused on finding the one spot on your neck that made you lose your breath.

“Bedroom?” he mumbles, not waiting for an answer before biting down roughly on your neck.

“Fuck, Morgan,” you whine, “Down the hall, last door.” You’re too small for him to keep bending down to kiss you, even on your tippy-toes, so he just picks you up and wraps your legs around his waist. He takes his time making his way down the hallway, content to just kiss you and mark you up.

“I love how tiny you are,” he hums after leaving another hickey. “Makes it easy to move you when I fuck you.”

You moan out at his words before saying, “Everybody’s tiny compared to you, Mo.”

He pulls back a moment to look at you in surprise. He’s standing in the doorway of your bedroom, still holding you, when he says, “Are you - oh my god, are you chirping me?” You huff at the lack of contact and drop your lips to his neck without an answer. “Oh shit honey,” he groans while you suck on his neck. “You markin’ me up? Huh? Like marking your territory? Yeah, I bet - fuck.” You cut him off by sinking your teeth into his shoulder and that’s definitely gonna hurt in the morning.

You've got a bad reputation in my neighborhood

You drive me mad with temptation 'cause it tastes so good

Mo’s got you on your back, your shirt is still on, hoodie thrown on the bed next to you, and he’s dragging your jeans down your legs when your phone rings. You whine when Morgan pauses to grab your phone from the pocket of your discarded hoodie, glancing at the screen before handing it to you.

“It’s Jalin, answer it.” The command is short, and then his lips are on your thighs, pulling your jeans the rest of the way off.

“Mo-”

“Answer it.”

“Hey J, what’s up?” you know you sound breathless as you answer, but you hope she’ll over look it.

“Hey, Y/N-”

“Put it on speaker,” Morgan murmurs against your skin. You gape down at him but do as you’re told.

“Look, I know you said you’re all good in Toronto,” she starts, and you know that she’s alone now, the other girls probably having left. “But I just - you gotta be careful, ma, you’re in enemy territory now, you can’t go around reppin’ NY.”

“J, I’m not stupid,” you answer, trying to keep your voice under control as Mo trails his lips closer to the center of your thighs. “I can handle it, imma keep reppin’ and you know I’ll just fucking deck anyone if they try and start something they can’t finish.”

Morgan chuckles softly against your core, causing you to squirm at the warm gust of air that washes over you. “Shut the fuck up,” you say before you can stop yourself.

“Uh, what?” Shit.

“Yikes,” Morgan says, loud enough so that Jalin can here.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, are you with Morgan?” Jalin sounds exasperate, but not surprised.

“Yeah Jay, and you’re on speaker-oh shit.” You force a whine down as Morgan wraps his lips around your clit, sucking the bud into his mouth.

“Y/N, are you-? You know what, nevermind,” Jalin groans. “Call me back when you’re done fucking the enemy’s captain.”

“Got it,” you say quickly, ending the call as soon as the words are out of your mouth. “Oh, fuck, Mo, yeah, just like that.” Morgan seems to glow at your praise, humming as he sucks harder on your clit and drags two fingers along your slit.

“They know about us?” Morgan murmurs against your core, curling his fingers so that your back arches and a breathy moan escapes your lips. Us. He thought of you two as an us? Before you can get too wrapped up in your head he shoves another finger inside you, growling, “I asked you a question.”

You cry out at the action. “Yes, yes they do,” you whine, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair. “They knew after the first ni - fuck - first night. We - oh shit please - we don't keep secrets.”

He doesn't answer, only humming against your cunt again and whispering “Oh shit honey, I missed how good you taste.” You can only whine again, rocking your hips up towards his mouth. Morgan growls and lands a sharp slap on your thigh, making you yelp, before splaying his hand across your stomach to hold you down.

“You’re gonna come,” Morgan states - it’s not a question - “You’re gonna come for me, baby, all over my fingers and my face.” His fingers curl again, the pads of his fingertips pressing into your g-spot while his thumb presses down on your clit. You feel like he's holding you from the inside out and the pleasure is almost too much, thrashing against his hold.

You know I wouldn't walk away even if I could

It took one night, one try, ay

“Hold still,” Morgan snarls, holding you in place so that you can't escape. Even if you could, you're not sure that you would. You sob out, desperate for him to make you come, but everything is so much, too much. You can't stop yourself from squirming against his grips, the obscene sound of his mouth on your wetness and little gasps leaving your mouth - “ah, ah, ah” - the only noise in the room.

You scream when Morgan nips at your clit, the slight pain from his teeth only adding to your downfall. “Please, Mo, pleasepleasepleaseplease,” you moan, scrambling to hold onto him, push him away from your cunt. “Too much, too much, please.” He only growls again, keeping you pinned down with impossibly strong arms and sucking roughly at your clit. You let out a shrieking moan as you’re thrown into orgasm, the peak ripping through you so hard that you go blind for what seems like forever.

Morgan doesn't let up, his fingers cruelly continuing their exploration of your walls and his tongue circling your clit. Even as you start to come down, Morgan doesn't slow, intent on torturing you into another orgasm. “Fuck, Mo, please, I can't-”

“You can and you will,” Morgan growls. “Shut up and take it.”

You can’t say no to him. You don't want to say no to him.

So you let him bring you to the edge again, and again, and again. He makes you come with his tongue another 3 times, not once letting up to give you a break, and then he fucked you through another two orgasms, collapsing beside you when he finally came inside you.

Damn, I'm hooked

Ooh... I'm hooked

“How long are you staying?” Morgan murmurs against your skin later. You’d spent a couple hours in bed after your little escapade, though you should have been unpacking. His lips and tongue and fingers had been tracing patterns into your skin all over your body.

“Indefinitely,” you whispered into his hair. Morgan could most likely sense your sadness at the thought, and looks up at you with soft eyes.

“Hey,” he croons, cupping your cheek. “It’s not so bad here. I know it’s not New York, but you’re not totally alone, sweetheart, you’ve got me.”

“Mo,” you sigh, giving in to the soft kiss Morgan places on your lips, before he buries his face in your neck again. “Every time we’ve run into each other has been circumstantial, I’m not gonna wait around waiting to bump into you at a coffee shop or bar again.”

“Well then,” he hums, and you can feel his smile against the soft skin of your neck. “Y/N I-don’t-know-your-last name, I would like to take this moment to formally ask you for your phone number. Will you do me the honor of putting your number in my phone?”

“Ask me later, when I wake up,” you whisper, slowly drifting off, “I might say yes.”

You got me under your influence

I swear I'm never gonna give you up, up, up, up, up, up, up!

Morgan took you for breakfast the next morning. And then he took you for coffee the day after. And kissed you in front of your front door. And then offered to make you dinner at his place. And then kissed you again.

No matter what came up, he always made sure to check in and make sure you didn't get the chance to hate Toronto too much, especially not when he was with you. It was all too domestic and soft and you couldn't help the way he made you feel.

You've got a bad reputation in my neighborhood

You drive me mad with temptation 'cause it tastes so good

You know I wouldn't walk away even if I could

It took one night, one try, ay

Damn, I'm hooked

Your friends going to kill you, but you can’t help but smile every time you remember the first night, and thank yourself for letting Morgan take you home.

Ooh... I'm hooked

Ooh... I'm hooked, oh

[words-writ-in-starlight]

For the dark powers ask meme: either the animorphs or the leverage crew?also hope your day gets better, youll make it through this

@enbiecrowley asked: 

I started listening to MAG bc of you and it's been consuming my life for the past week, but I watched an episode of Leverage today and now I was wondering, if you're up for it, who you think the Leverage crew would belong to? I'm pretty sure Nate belongs to the Web, and Eliot maybe to Slaughter, Sophie to the Spiral or the Stranger...? 

Well it’s been a minute since this ask meme, but!  Animorphs was already answered here!

Nate is, I’d say, actually the Eye--he’s not a puppeteer, he’s a chessmaster, his game isn’t manipulation of reality but rather making reality work for him.  The reason he’s a good mastermind is because he watches everything and creates a dozen plans for every minute deviation, and then switches easily and fluidly from one to another when needed.  He’s very much the kind of man who would have the hubris and determination to wrestle an eldritch fear power into being part of his schemes not by manipulation but by out and out coercion, and that hollers “Eye” at jet plane decibels.  He was narrowly rescued (if that’s the right word) from a fast descent into the Lonely by Victor Dubenich, who has no idea that he is literally solely responsible for spiking Nate back into his old investigator’s habits and the smug grip of Beholding.  Honestly Dubenich is the architect of his own suffering in any universe.  Nate gets slammed into full avatarship when he gets shot much more fatally than in the show, gets saved by the Eye, and starts gaining real Beholding powers in prison, which is just.  Such a great time for him.

(Relatedly, Nate and Elias would fuuuuucking hate each other, someone please write me an AU where they meet up and snipe nastily at each other over drinks or something.  [theotherdog.jpeg] here.)

Sophie is the Stranger all the fucking way, and no one knows when she became a full avatar, they just know that she is.  If she doesn’t want to be known, she won’t be.  She’s every nationality and no nationality, she’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen and you’ll never be able to remember the color of her eyes.  When she’s upset, her features blur and harden like wax cooling into a mold, and she has to blink hard and force a smile that seems like it’ll crack her mannequin-still cheeks.  This also preserves some of the cat-and-mouse vibe in her and Nate’s relationship much longer than in Leverage canon, as the Eye and the Stranger are somewhat antithetical to each other.  Nate doesn’t Know Sophie and works to keep it that way, and Sophie doesn’t make Nate Not Know her and works to keep it that way.  It’s a balance.

Hardison is Web.  Age of the geek, baby, and the geek can get into any computer, any camera, any cell phone.  The whole world hums with a web of wireless signals and fiber optics, and Hardison is the spider at the heart of it, tugging his threads to bring the Leverage crew the juiciest flies.  He’s not a full avatar, but no one would dream of questioning the Web’s claim on him.  There’s a website that’s only there when you need it, and all it has is a phone number to a phone that doesn’t exist except when Hardison says it does, and if you call it, it’ll solve your problems.  Hardison’s cons might always be a bit rough around the edges, because--well, why would he need to be convincing?  He’s the Web’s favorite toy.  He doesn’t need to convince anyone of anything.

Eliot was almost Desolation for his ruthlessness, then almost Slaughter for his love of the fight, and then he chased another Slaughter avatar across Myanmar and got shot and put a knife through their hand before demanding to know how to escape the thing that told him to rip people apart with his bare hands.  The Hunt was on him before sunset.  Eliot Spencer had always had a good reputation as a force to be reckoned with, but now...well.  Not even avatars are safe.  He clings to his humanity until the hunt for Moreau, when the gunfight in the warehouse finally kills him straight into proper avatarship.  He tells Nate, all-seeing Nate, not to tell the others--not yet.  Moreau spots the change immediately, and calls Eliot a hound, nothing more than a dog sent to savage the prey before his master comes in for the kill, and Eliot smiles.  “I know I am,” he says softly, and watches Damian Moreau swallow without hiding the lock of his gaze.  “That’s why you’re afraid of me.”

(You can still hear a bit of the Slaughter, when Eliot sings.)

Parker had a brush with the End when she was just seven years old.  She doesn’t feel fear anymore--she learns how to watch without fearing the watcher, learns how to fall without fearing the sky, learns how to be trapped without fearing burial.  With a country-killing virus in hand, all Parker knows is the laser focus of finishing a task.  Parker can feel grief and joy and rage, but fear is simply...gone.  It makes her the best candidate in the world to mastermind a crew of avatars in the war against the Extinction.

[reallyautomaticvoid]

Calling It: Good Intentions Chapter 4: The Great Coffee Spill

Characters (in order of appearance in this chapter): Tim Drake, Tam Fox, Dick Grayson

Chapter Summary:

Dick tries to talk to Tim.

It’s been a fortnight since Tim returned from his vacation.  

For some reason, none of the other Titans found it nearly as funny as Tim to call his kidnapping and toucher for days on end a vacation.  

Cassie had gone as far as to threaten to make him get a psych eval if he didn’t stop.  Tim grumbled at that.  He was the team leader.  If he wanted to call solitary confinement ‘mediation’ he should be allowed to do that.

Melodramatic.

In lieu of a psych eval, the team agreed, albeit reluctantly, to let Tim go back to Gotham to catch up on paperwork.  

Tam had been calling twice a day to see when Tim was planning on coming back.  After the fourth time Con had been chewed out by Tam—

“she does realize I shoot laser beams from my eyes,” he asked Tim after a particularly brutally conversation.  

Tim flipped through a magazine, the corner of his lips twitching.  “You do realize she doesn’t care?  The quarterly reports are coming up.” 

—he practically begged the other to let Tim go.

“She threatened to tear my liver out through my throat.”  Conner’s voice did not tremble.

“Wow, how very Game of Thrones of her.”

“Bart!”

Bart rolls his eyes.  “You don’t actually think she can do it, do you?”

“Dude, I don’t wanna find out!”

However, there were stipulations.  

Because, of course, there were stipulations.  

Tim isn’t allowed to work for more than two hours at a time after which he is to take at least a fifteen-minute break.  

At least eight hours of sleep.  

No patrols.  

Three meals a day but preferably more.

Plus he’s supposed to avoid stress.  

Good grief, how is anything going to get anything done?

Tim enters the office at seven, anticipant a long, tedious day, full of paper cuts.  

What he does not expect is, before getting to the elevator, Tam grabbing and yanking him in.  

She presses a button for their floor, and the elevator started to elevate.

“Morning Tam,” Tim says mildly.  “Something on your mind?  Or are you finally ready to kill me for leaving you with all of that paperwork?”  

He sips his black coffee.  Since the Titans hadn’t said anything about coffee, Tim took this to mean he’s allowed to drink as much as he wants.  

“Just let me finish my coffee first, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, you're hilarious but listen, I need to talk to you before we get to your office.”  Tam took a deep breath.  “I honest to God don’t know how he got in there.  He was here before me this morning.”  She pauses before muttering,  “bounce around the place.”

Tim tilts his head. “Who, Bruce?  Tam, his names on the door.”

Tam makes an exasperated noise through her nose.  “No, no, not Bruce.  D—”  

At that moment, the elevator dinged and the doors slowly opened to reveal—

“Timmy!”  Dick exclaimed at the top of his lungs.  

Tim froze mid-sip, his eyes wide as saucers staring at Tam who looks like she’d swallowed a lemon.    

For the first time ever, Tim’s happy that his and Tam’s were the only offices on that floor.  Having one’s former older brother, friend, mentor scream a childish nickname at the top of their lungs doesn’t lend itself a professional background.  

For some unknown reason, Dick threw his arms around Tim and pulled him into a bear hug.  

Unfortunately, this causes Tim to spill his almost full cup of coffee onto the ground.  The three manage to jump out of the way of the hot liquid.  Tim looks mournfully at the hot liquid that was seeping through the carpet fibers.

“Oops.  Sorry about that Timmy.”  Dick looks down at the now empty cup, squeezing Tim tighter.  “Stuff not good for you anyways.”

Tim’s eye twitches.  

Taking a minute to clear his mind, Tim does a recount on his morning.

Dick was here.  

A Bat was here in his space.  

His space.  

Also, he didn’t have coffee.  

Aaaaaaaaaaand he’s been at work for less than five minutes.

Today is going to be hell, isn’t it?

Tim’s face slips into his Tim Wayne: CEO mask now.  He shoves Dick away ignoring the hurt expression on Dick’s face.  

“It just Tim.  Tam, would you mind going down and getting me another cup?  Please?”

Tam, who’d been making a valiant attempting to mop up some of the excess coffee, straightens up.  

“Sure thing, Tim.  I’ll call maintenance to clean this up too.”  She waves a the mess.

“Thanks, Tam.”  Tam pushes the button that would return her to the ground floor.  

For a wild second, Tim considers hopping in after her to get away from Dick.  He quickly dismisses this idea.  

It would be better to find out what Dick wanted, help him, and get him out of here. 

Rules for dealing with the Bats, remember?

The elevator doors close with Tam inside of them.  Tim turns to his office.  

“So, what do you need, Dick?”  Tim marches into his office.  

Just because today was going to be hell doesn’t mean it wasn’t going to be a productive hell.  Setting his briefcase down before starting up his computer for the day, Tim flits around the room, while Dick stands uncertainly at the door.

“What do I—Timmy, I don’t need anything.”  There is something in Dick’s voice.  

Almost like concern.

Odd.

Tim didn’t think that there was anything that he could do that would hurt Dick.  It wasn’t like Dick has been very concerned with Tim or anything that Tim did since—Tim shut down that line of thought.  

Moving forward.  Remember Drake?  He tells himself.  

“It’s Tim.  Then, if you don’t need anything, how can I help you?”  His voice is detached.  

Disinterested.

Cold.

For some reason, Dick flinches.

Tim does a quick sweep of the room, and no there aren’t any threats in here.

“It was just my day off and I—I just wanted to check up on my little brother.”  

Tim’s brow furrows.  

“Jason’s here?  I haven’t seen him yet.  Although, Tam’s been making a bit of a game kicking him out.  She thinks he’s funny.”  Tim pauses before groaning.  “Wait, please tell me Damian not here.  Fuuuuuck, I do not have time for another hostile take over attempt.”  Tim slumps down into his, groaning, before striating up. “Although, it might get me out of some of this paperwork.  That’d be nice.”  He squints at the pile of papers on the corner of his desk (which was almost a foot high and how Tam) before shaking his head.  “No, no it’d probably just double it.”  

Tim sighs, grabbing the top folder to work on not bothering to look up at the man standing awkwardly in his doorway.

“No, little bro, I came here to check on you.  Wanted to see if you wanted to play hooky or something?”  

Tim could feel his CEO mask slips for a second because he is genuinely confused.  

Little Bro?  

Why is Dick suddenly start to fain concern?  

“I’m not your brother, Dick.”  

Tim winces at his bluntness, but sometimes surprise does that to a person.  

And lack of coffee.  

Maybe next time Dick would just email Tim.  It’s far more efficient that way.  Plus, they wouldn’t have to bother with the faux pleasantries.

For some unknown reason to Tim, stating this simple fact turn Dick’s pale face beet red.  “What are you talking about?  Of course, you're my—”

“No, I’m not,”  Tim interrupts.  

Tim doesn’t want to hear Dick lie to him.  He isn’t Dick’s brother.  He is okay with that. 

Or at least, that’s what he kept telling himself.  

“Never have been.  Never will be.  If you don’t need anything, Dick, then can you go, please?  I have a ton of work to get done.”  Tim gestures at the pile of folders which Tim swears somehow got larger in the last thirty seconds.  

Tim scrutinizes the stack of work.

However, Dick doesn’t leave.  Instead, he strolls into Tim’s office, put his fist down with a thud on Tim’s desk, and did his best Batman impersonation.  

Tim notes that Dick’s knuckles are white.  

Tim flips a page from the file that he’s looking at.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Timmy?”

“It’s Tim.  And work?  I assumed you were familiar with the concept since starting at GCPD.  It’s were—”

“Not that Timmy,” Dick’s practically shouting.  Tim winces glad that Tam isn’t here for this discussion.  “What the fuck do you mean, you’re not my brother?”

Tim finishes the folder of paperwork that he’d been working on.  He places it in his outgoing box before flipping open the next one.  

“I mean just that.  I’m not a Wayne, Dick.  I’m not a Bat.  I was just the proxy—a substitute.  I was there to make sure Bruce didn’t lose his shit after Jason died.  I stood in until Damian came along.  Now he’s here and has taken over.  The substitute isn’t needed anymore.  Now I’m just a good little soldier who does what’s needed.  You guys don’t need to worry about me anymore.  It’s fine, Dick.  I’ve always liked being on my own.”  

Without looking, Tim could tell that Dick was vibrating.  Tim isn’t sure why; this is all old news and Dick had been there.  Dick stands there, watching Tim as he finishes the folder he’s working on.  

Tim’s booting up his email when Dick finally says, in a tight tone,  “Timmy, you may not like it, but you are a Wayne and—”

“It’s Tim.  Tim Drake.”

Dick rubs his temples.  “Yes, I know, Drake-Wayne.”

“No, just Drake.  I legally dropped Wayne months ago.  Or has it been a year?”  Tim muses more to himself than Dick.  Dick recoils as if Tim brandished a hot iron towards him.

Tim hums to himself while he clicked through his emails.  

He’s hoping to Hell that Dick will catch on and leave.  Dick had been Batman for Gods sakes; you’d think he’d know how to pick up on clues.  Tim, though, has never been that lucky.

“You dropped Wayne?”  The voice that comes from Dick is so small that Tim isn’t even sure that he’d heard it.

Without looking up at Dick, Tim answers, “yep.  Look, Dick, I’m swamped today so if there isn’t anything else,”  Tim pauses, waiting for Dick to say something.  He doesn’t. “Then can you go?  Gotta keep the company running until one of you guys take it back.”  

Dick’s about to say something when Tam came in carrying Tim’s replacement coffee.  She places it down on Tim’s desk.  

“Thanks, Tam.” Tim gratefully takes a swig of coffee before going back to his computer.

“You need anything else, Tim?”  

Tim glances at her.  Tam has the I will drag him out of here kicking and screaming if you want me to Boss.  Just say the word.

Tim, however, opt for a different answer.  “You want to do this paperwork for me?”

She snorts. “Not a chance.”

“Then no thanks, Tam.” 

“Don’t forget, you have a meeting in ten.”  

“Got it.  I’ll be out in a minute.  Thanks, Tam.”

Tam exits Tim’s office.  There's some sort of silent exchange between Dick and Tam but, with Tam’s back to him, Tim couldn’t make it out.

Humming to himself, Tim clicks through the last month of emails, deleting the ones he deems unimportant while saving the rest for later.  

After a solid five minutes of silence between the pair of them (in which Dick has not moved from his spot hovering over Tim; that has to be a record for Dick), Tim gets up to go to his meeting.

In his bent down form, Dick and Tim are eye level.  “We’re not done here, Tim.”

For the first time that day, Tim looks directly into his former brother eyes.  

Storm clouds are brewing behind the elder’s eyes.  Four years ago, Tim would have done anything to fix that.  He would have said anything.

Not anymore.

Without blinking, Tim replies, “yes we are.”

[episodes-ff]

45. Heat of the Night

Tiara

Moaning as he kissed me deeply, I hugged him close while he smacked my ass. Moving down to my neck, he licked and sucked, leaving passion marks in the process. “So good, baby.” Stripping me of my clothes, he hoisted my naked body up into his arms and laid me on the bed before cupping my breasts and massaging gently. Moving down my body, he stared at me seductively before diving into my wet center. “Baby...”

“Oh my god, baby! Oh my fucking god!” I cried out as he securely gripped my neck and continued digging me out. “Fuck, you so damn wet, girl!” At this point, we’ve been going for an hour and I was nearly reaching orgasm number five, while he only had three. It’s just something about the way his dick perfectly curves and conforms to my body that drives me insane. “Ahhhh! I’m cumming so hard, Daddy!” I squealed as he continued pounding into my sensitive opening. “Shit, I’m finna nut.” ��Cum for me, baby!” Stroking faster and deeper, he quickly pulled out, removing the condom as he released on my stomach. “Fuuuuuck.” Cleaning me up, he kissed me deeply before going to take a shower as I lay there in a daze. Finishing up, he changed from his school clothes to one of the spare outfits he kept at my house before picking up his ringing phone.

“Hello? Yea yea, I’m getting ready to head up there now. You know I do. Aight, imma see you soon. Bye.” He smiled biting his lip as he hung up. “Who was that?” “Just Latrell and Anthony wondering if I’m still coming to this poker night we always do.” “But baby, you just got here! I feel like I haven’t seen you all damn week.” I pouted putting on my robe as I walked up to him. “I know, baby, but I never miss a game. It’s a tradition with the guys.” Rolling my eyes, he kissed all over me making me all warm inside, and lose my attitude. “I promise I’ll make it up to you, baby.” He husked rubbing my ass and staring into my eyes. “You better.” “I love you.” “I love you too, bae.” Smiling, he kissed me deeply before leaving my house. Something is definitely up with his ass, but I can’t put my finger on it.

THE NEXT DAY

Sincere

Walking into my first class of the day, I smiled but then it fell when I noticed Jayce not in his usual seat, or even in class for that matter. Hearing the bell ring, Tiara looked at me confused pointing to his seat and I shrugged before our teacher walked in with a somber expression on her face. “Good morning, class. As you may or may not have heard, Jayce Ellis will be absent for the next few days while he and his family mourns the recent loss of his grandfather. I expect for one if not all of you to keep the family in your prayers and I will be assigning one of you to bring his school assignments to his residence to complete during his time of bereavement. Now, for today’s lesson, we will be studying the romantic tragedy of Romeo and Juliet.” Feeling my heart sink, I looked at T before trying my best to concentrate on my assignments.

Knocking on the front door, I fastened my book bag closer to me as it held both of our assignments inside. Getting a bit impatient, I turned to leave when the door swung open revealing a shirtless Jayce as he took a swig of the Hennessy bottle in his possession. “Hey, Jayce.” “Sup.” “Is it ok if I come in?” Moving aside, he gestured inside and I walked in following him to the kitchen. Looking around for something to eat, he shrugged before offering me some of the bottle. “No thanks. I don’t drink.” “Suit yourself.” What you got there?” “Your homework.” “Oh yea. I forgot I had school. Let’s go to my room and study.” Following him up to his room, I admired his drawings and sketches as I sat on his big, comfortable bed.

“I didn’t know you sketched.” “Yea, I used to.” “Why did you stop? You have a real talent here.” “First person that ever took me fishing was my great grandpa, Reggie. He’s dead. First person that ever gave me a haircut was my uncle Nuke. He’s dead too. My grandpa was the one that taught me how to hold a pen and now he’s dead too, so I’m not exactly in the artistic spirit as of right now.” Biting my lip in embarrassment for having even asked, I looked down. “I’m so sorry, Jayce.” “Everyone’s always sorry when you lose someone important, but they’re never there when that person was breathing.” “I understand what you’re feeling.” “Do you? I’ve had almost all of my male role models torn to pieces in front of my eyes and the only thing anyone can say is sorry. I’m so fucking tired of sorry!!!!!” He yelled ripping his artwork and supplies down as I watched crying.

Going over to rip up his work next, I ran over and stopped him before he broke down in tears of his own and hugged me. “I don’t know what to do anymore, Sin.” “I know, baby, I know.” Pulling him up onto the bed, he laid in my lap and cried endlessly before falling asleep as I rubbed his scalp. “Jayce, can you come down? Dinner’s rea-“ His dad said barging in before stopping quietly as I smiled sympathetically at him. Reaching down, I held up the Hennessy bottle and handed it to him to hide in a safe place as Jayce snored lightly.

Finally cleaning up the last of the pile, I tucked Jayce in some more and grabbed my shoes to leave. “Wh-Where you going?” He pouted still half asleep. “I gotta go home, baby.” “I don’t want you to leave. I need you.” “I know but my family needs me too, ok? I promise I’ll be right back.” “Promise?” “With all my heart.” Smiling, he started to fall back into slumber as I kissed his forehead and left.

[caildekook]

Okay. So for the au thing. 38 with the Og couple (sangwoo and bum). Because?? It's so cute and amazing and just please

Send a number 1-50 and I’ll write a drabble based off this list

38. Asthma attack without the inhaler in the middle of the night and the other one sings to calm them down AU

//sorry this took so long anon but I got really confused with it cause I was thinking anxiety attack over asthma. It ended up much longer than I meant so sorry;;; Also i hardly know any love songs so hopefully the one I picked didn’t kill it for ya Hope you like it if you get to see it

Bum was never good in large groups of people. He had social anxiety that left him a nervous mess around people. Especially Sangwoo’s group of people. It’s why he fought going out with Sangwoo to hang out his friends and why he fought it even further to stay the night at one of their houses. 

Sangwoo didn’t really get it. He liked socializing and going out for drinks so he always tried to push Bum to come along. He knew Bum’s tells when it’d get to be too much for the smaller man, and in his opinion, Bum was doing a wonderful job that night. It’s why Sangwoo thought it’d be a good idea to push him into staying the night at his friend’s house with him.

Now he was starting to regret that. Bum’s anxiety wasn’t the issue thankfully, but the alternative wasn’t much better. The house they’d be staying in was quite thick with smoke. It was to the point that even Sangwoo thought it was a little irritating. Still, he flashed a few smiles and managed to get the two of them the upstairs bedroom where he thought opening the window would be enough to dilute the smoke for Bum. 

Bum gave up on arguing with him. He was trying and now that he got to be away from the group of people and drifting smoke, he felt better. He wouldn’t feel his best until the two were both home, but that was always where he felt most comfortable.

Bum already made himself comfortable laying on his side in the bed as Sangwoo climbed in after him.  

He draped an arm over Bum’s waist, watching as the smaller man brought his hands up to his mouth to most likely breathe in the scent from his sweater over the smoke that stuck to the bedding. “Turn over,” Sangwoo hummed after placing a butterfly kiss to Bum’s neck. 

Bum didn’t hesitate, rolling towards Sangwoo’s chest and immediately finding his significant other’s arms wrapped around him. He snuggled into his chest, Sangwoo planting a kiss on the top of his head. “I don’t smell like smoke, right?” Bum nodded. “Good. We can sleep like this then.” 

Bum only wished it had worked that way. It would’ve been nice to feel like he was back home while he slept but Sangwoo unfortunately moved in his sleep, and Bum soon found himself woken up by his own wheezing. He sat himself up right, not realizing just how hard it had been to get air into his lungs. 

His inhaler, he needed his inhaler. Sangwoo usually kept the extra one in the glove box but there was no way Bum could get to it without waking the entire household up with his loud wheezing. He turned in the bed and shook Sangwoo. It only took a couple weak pushes before the brunette blinked the sleep from his eyes. He stared at Bum for a moment as his brain slowly processed the situation. Finally, Sangwoo shot upright, hands coming to Bum’s sides in worry. “What? What is it, what’s wrong?”

“...Inhaler...” Bum huffed out. His voice sounded like a stuffy old man now. Sangwoo understood what he said but trying to remember where that stupid red puffer thing of his was like having to solve the Reimann Hypothesis. His brain was still sleeping but his body started moving quickly. 

After a second of listening to Bum’s wheezing, Sangwoo’s brain finally kicked into gear and he made a dash for the door, remembering the one stuffed into the glove box. 

Except when he got there Sangwoo also remembered having pulled it because Bum needed it on a previous outing. It was currently sitting at home in one of his jackets in their coat closet. “Fuuuuuck,” Sangwoo groaned to himself. He didn’t care about being quiet as he returned back inside, a few of his friends still awake and playing video games quietly in the living room. They didn’t bother to ask what was wrong as he walked passed. 

Bum’s eyes met with Sangwoo when the door was opened again. Sangwoo shrugged his shoulders, showing his empty hands which only made Bum take in a struggled breath of air with a pained face. “I left it in my jacket.” He commented. 

Bum didn’t have the energy to be mad about that. Instead, he tried to focus on his breathing, but his heart was starting to pick up and anxiety was making a very much unwelcome return at that time. 

Sangwoo chewed his lip as he struggled to think of something to help Bum. He couldn’t breathe for him, other wise he would’ve done that without having to leave the bed. Instead, he took Bum gently by his wrists and pulled him out of the bed, deciding taking him to the window would be the best bet. Somewhere between that, he opened his mouth and began singing without a care that he started towards the end of a song. 

“How many times do I have to tell you?”

Bum’s wheezing wasn’t the best background noise to accompany Sangwoo’s singing, but he found himself smiling as Sangwoo basically carried him towards the window. “Even when you’re crying, you’re beautiful too,” He was singing so delicately, it didn’t seem to fit with the person Sangwoo was. 

Bum took in as deep of a breath as he could of the fresh air that drifted in through the window when they were close to it. Sangwoo took a seat on the floor, his shoulder at level with the window ledge. He pulled Bum down into his lap, their faces towards one another, but only for a moment. Sangwoo gently nudged Bum’s face to rest at his shoulder so he could be angled towards the window and get as much fresh air as he could. “The world is beating you down, I'm around through every mood”

He didn’t stop his singing, taking a hand and running it up and down Bum’s back, making sure to make his motion even for him to hopefully support his breathing.  “You're my downfall, you're my muse, My worst distraction, my rhythm and blues” 

Bum’s eyes dropped with sleepiness, but his chest was still hurting and tight. His mouth opened as he took in a deep breath, the hand on his back just as comforting as the voice whispered towards his ear. He wanted to kiss Sangwoo right now, interrupt that beautiful voice of his, but having air sounded like a much better alternative at the moment. 

“I can't stop singing, it's ringing, in my head for you” Sangwoo’s voice danced around the notes of the lyrics in a deep sound. He was as soothing as he could be, hoping that this would be a good enough substitute for that missing inhaler of Bum’s. “My head's under water, But I'm breathing fine”  

Bum was taking in more lungfuls of air, closing his eyes as he focused on the way Sangwoo’s chest moved with each note he held. It felt a little sadistic, but Bum almost wished he could have more asthma attacks if Sangwoo would treat him like this through it. He’d never been so close to Sangwoo while he sang before and it sprouted some wonderfully comforting feeling in his chest. 

The window suddenly didn’t seem like it could offer the air Bum wanted to breathe. He turned his head to bury his face against Sangwoo’s neck, his breathing starting to come to a reasonable pace. Sangwoo continued to sing, and continued to run his hand up and down Bum’s back. “You're crazy and I'm out of my mind”

Bum was still taking in deep breaths, but he felt his lip start to quiver. He knew the next words that were to come, but hearing them in Sangwoo’s voice sang to him made his heart twist and his stomach flutter. “Cause all of me, loves all of you,” His hand slowed to a stop towards the top of Bum’s back. He kept it there, halting his singing only to place another kiss to the top of Bum’s head. “Love your curves and all you--” Sangwoo cut off to the sound of a sniffle coming from the frail body pressed against him. He leaned back to get a look at Bum’s face. 

“--Bum, are you crying?” 

“...Shut up,” Bum retorted with, his voice still strained even as his breathing was coming to a calm. He buried his face deeper into Sangwoo’s chest, his hands coming up to hug him. “...i love you..” He mumbled. Even though it was said into his shirt, Sangwoo still found himself smiling. 

He didn’t bother to finish the song, instead hugging Bum close to him and nuzzling against him. “I love you too.”