#abt whether or not he will eventually come back

[takeyrregrets]

I loved the platonic one, is there anyway you could do something similar but instead of foster dad it’s a police officer that’s always there for the delinquent kid because he’s noticed things that hint at his bad home life and eventually takes him in after being sent to the teens house for a domestic call? Only if your comfortable!

'𝗕𝗮𝗱' 𝗞𝗶𝗱 𝗢𝗳𝗳𝗶𝗰𝗲𝗿 & 𝗗𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗾𝘂𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗧𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 I love writing platonic stuff...does that say something abt my family life? Most likely

He always seemed to be around, didn’t he?

Every time the cuffs went on—whether it was for something you did or something they just assumed you did—he was there. Calm. Steady. Different. Not like the others who looked at you like a lost cause, like trash that needed to be cleaned off the streets. No, he looked at you like he saw something more. Like he was trying to see something more.

He never said much. But he always asked the right questions.

“Did you eat today?” “Where’s that bruise from?” “You sure you’re okay walking home alone?”

You hated how your voice always cracked when you answered. How your hands itched with shame when you lied. How you wanted to tell him everything, even when you didn’t have the words for it. You didn’t ask for him to care. You didn’t need him to.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

But then the call came in.

He didn’t even know it was your address until dispatch said your name over the radio. Something in him just snapped. He was the first one through the door, before backup even had their boots on. And he saw it—the broken lamp, the overturned table, the way you flinched when someone raised their voice.

He saw you, curled up small in the corner, hands shaking and eyes wide, like you were bracing for another hit that hadn’t come yet.

And he broke. Not loudly. Not violently. But something inside him cracked, permanent and quiet. A decision. A promise.

That night, you didn't go back home.

Not to the blood-stained carpet or the smell of beer on breath. Not to the shouting and the doors slammed too hard. No, that night, you sat in the passenger seat of his cruiser, a borrowed hoodie draped over your shoulders. His.

“You’re not going back there,” he said. Firm. Like a vow. “Not again.”

You didn’t say anything at first. You just stared out the window, waiting for the catch. Waiting for him to change his mind. But he didn’t.

He brought you to a small apartment—modest, but warm. He made you tea, handed you a blanket, and didn’t ask you to explain a single thing. You slept on his couch that night, eyes still red, mind still racing.

And when you woke up the next morning, he was there. Making breakfast.

“You like eggs?” he asked, like this was normal. Like this was just life now.

You didn’t know what to say. You just stared, before he smiled and turned his head back towards the pan. As if he read your mind. And when he placed the plate down in front of you, two yellow yolk stared right at you.

[bandzboy]

re: seunghan i saw someone say that the original post the pic is from didn't say anything about cram school and it was clearly someone just stalking him which could very likely be true but at the same time idols do online college along with idol duties all the time so if he *was* retaking entrance exams i wouldnt see it as a sign that it's all over. sm is so shady though so i also wouldn't be surprised if it was like everyone thinks :/ but yeah i wouldnt take a pannchoa article at face value lol

yeah exactly that’s why i am not believing it 100% because i thought the same like idols study even when they are doing idol activities so it doesn’t actually mean he is out but like so much time has passed that it wouldn’t surprising if that was the case sigh

[a-shadowedvales]

when jane's powers return in season four (and because they were regained by her confronting and accepting her past, rather than being retraumatised with it!) they're stronger than they ever were. when she starts getting a handle back on them, she very quickly comes to realise not only have they affected her, but her mother, too. one of the biggest losses that came about with her losing them was the fact that she could no longer visit terry in the void; while there was no real communication there, it did allow jane to sit with her, and gain a little more connection than she could in the real world. when she first visits the void after their return, it takes her three hours to find terry, something that is both unexpected and incredibly worrying. but when she does, it's something of a miracle. jane's increased strength and control over the void actually wakes terry up from her catatonic state, but only in the void. there's no way to help her mother physically, but she does do so (unbeknownst to her) mentally. terry is reborn in jane's newfound control over the vale of shadows; she becomes the woman she once was, and while her body remains frozen in a "good dream", her mind connected to jane's own allows her some freedom. jane is able to speak to her mother in the void, is able to be held by her, and while it's still unfair and jane cannot stay in there forever, it's something. this only lasts for about eight months, as each visit slowly begins deteriorating terry's physical and mental state, and jane's health begins declining after spending hours upon hours in the void each and every day.

when jane finds out these visits are actually killing her mother on the outside, she deems to stop, but terry expresses the importance of them being able to speak, that she'd prefer to die on the outside, if it meant she could have just a few months with her daughter like this. terry and jane's connection was always so strong, which ultimately led to terry "waking up" in the void, but even jane's newfound strength cannot save her from the harsh realities. each visit nearing the end of those eight months, terry fades more and more, becomes weaker in the void, and her real body eventually gives up. jane's in the void when her mother eventually passes on, and physically feels their connection weaken, like some part of her suddenly becomes lost in the shadows, a part she'll never find again. jane falls into a depressive state for weeks after her mother's death, given she's technically lost her a second time, but soon comes to realise she was lucky to have even shared those eight months together. it was better than nothing at all. there is a proper burial and funeral, (and when jane dies, she's buried next to her mother) which allows jane some sense of closure. she never fully recovers from losing terry, nor from the fact that she never had a proper relationship with her, but she does eventually find some peace with it all.

[exopelagic]

turns out my supervisor is?? impressed??? with my work so far??? how do I keep getting away with this??

[jiminrings]

fail-safe

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 8k

glimpse: growing up, your brother's best friend always berated you for not having a passion in life outside of loving him from afar. when yoongi leaves everything he's ever known for everything he's ever wanted, trying to move on from him becomes your biggest aspiration.

alternatively, yoongi left when you needed him the most, and comes back home at a time when you love him the least.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]

[ a Lot of angst, eventual fluff, brother's best friend AND single dad au, So Much Yearning, unrequited love (initial), jealousy, self-deprecation, a lot of talk abt passion in an empty n hurtful way that most impassioned youngest children feel (it's a specific feeling idk!!!), eventual redemption in the next parts ]

notes: finally got to writing a new series!!! i'm beyond excited for this + this whole new concept and flow i haven't touched on before <3 i hope u love fail-safe as much as i do :-)

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! | series masterlist

Yoongi buys atleast one scratch ticket a week.

The accessibility of buying one is top-notch considering that all he has to do is cross the street, shoot one look to the cashier, and he can either already go hunch in the corner of the road or in the comfort of his room. The moment his coin takes its first dig and he realizes that he’s won yet again, he’s satisfied enough not to buy another ticket.

He doesn’t want to risk losing the win he’s just gained, the odds of him throwing out money besting his chances in adding to his earnings. He thinks everyone’s a little greedy one way or another, but it’s the righteous part of him that thinks he’s different.

You do think that he is for all the right reasons, your vision only tunneling for him alone. He’s this fixed older figure in your life and you can’t figure out how to shrug him off — he’s this generous leech that sucks all of the rationality from your mind but returns it to you twofold, whether in the form of him saying something unintentionally endearing that it makes your chest hurt, or through him having to lightly smack the back of your head.

Yoongi’s your older brother’s best friend and there’s a novelty tag that comes with him, one that can’t be topped by any material possession to your name. He’s there for you, not in the exact way you want him to be, but nonetheless there. He’s special and unattainable at the same time, the finiteness of his love barely extending to you.

He’s there when you want him to burn the latest songs onto a CD you’ve spent all your allowance in, and he’s there when you get annoyed that he sneaked some of his own recommendations in there. You’re there when you later admit that his suggestions aren’t half-bad, and you also happen to be there when he grins at the praise.

He’s there when Namjoon won’t cough up the last slice of his cutlet, not because he’ll actually give you his, but because he’ll help your brother guard his plate. You’d only have to mope for a solid of three seconds before the two of them give up both of their last slices, and you’re there when Yoongi insists for you to try the sauce in the spirit of going out of your routine.

You don’t need Yoongi every single time but in the event that you do, he hangs back. He contemplates and hesitates and doesn’t give in to every single whim that you have, but he’ll be there. He lingers like the last holiday ornament you don’t want to remove until it’s February, his presence being oddly similar to your favorite festivities.

Yoongi’s the equivalent of a holiday you look forward to with each passing month and day; he comes around to and for you in instances, but never even in your most sincere wishes.

“I buy one scratch ticket a week — three if I’m really feeling lucky. When my palms itch, that’s when I know that I really need to buy them.”

He’s calm and collected even when you’re scrunching your nose up at him in combined worry and disbelief, humming mindlessly as you collect your thoughts. He randomly told you about his lottery routine and you’re still trying to wrap your head around how he blows his money off just easily. Yoongi has the mind to put scrap cardboard under you because sitting on the hot concrete with your uniform on can’t possible be a good idea, but you try to play off your fluster into stubbornness.

He’s just playing with his two ever-present coins (lucky charms as he calls them)— one that’s shiny and minted in the present year, the other being the oldest coin he’s ever had that happens to be older than he is — while you mutter about.

“I don’t know, Yoongs. That might be a gambling problem,” you squint, your side comment being heard clearly as day. “Might be the symptoms for hand, foot, and mouth disease too.”

“What— I do not have a gambling problem! My skin’s perfectly fine too, thanks,” he defends, the light shove he gives you doing nothing to tone down your teasing.

“That’s what people with gambling problems say.”

“Give me that-…” he mutters, trying to wrestle you for the sundae he bought you using the money he won from his scratch ticket just awhile ago. You don’t give in easily, even if your laughs that come straight from your chest suggest otherwise. “You don’t get it. It’s just this nice, fun little thing I can look forward to every week. I always buy the cheapest version anyway so when I lose, it’s not a big deal.”

You relent (like you always do when it comes to Yoongi) in understanding, waving him off after regaining your breath. “Nah. I get it. We all have to do things so we wouldn’t lose our shit,” you trail, racking your head to find the right words.“Yours is buying scratch tickets, and mine is-…”

“Yours is what?” Yoongi raises an eyebrow, lips quirked in eagerness to know where you’re going with this. He can’t pinpoint a single thing he can attach to you and neither can you, your actual interests merely reflecting those of the people whom you love.

You love cross-stitching because your mom loves doing it, the tolerance you have for accidentally being pricked by the needle growing over time.

You enjoy playing badminton because Namjoon’s obsessed with the sport, no matter how ratty your rackets and shuttlecocks have become, and no matter how much he pushes you to ring the doorbell to your neighbor’s when he’s sent it flying to their backyard.

You’re probably an imposter yet you don’t feel like it. You don’t feel bad that your life most probably and will only revolve around your mom and Namjoon (maybe even Yoongi); you don’t feel dissatisfied that your life’s mundane. 

You go where your love goes.

“Mine is watching you buy scratch tickets,” you shrug easily as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, making him laugh heartily. You’ve probably done something right because he hauls you up to your feet immediately.

“Get up. I’m buying you your first ticket,” he nudges you, grabbing you by the arm in excitement.

“But I’m not even legal!” you half-heartedly argue, internally excited that you’re finally getting to try your hand at the lottery because you’ve spent a few hundred minutes of your life tuned to the channel to pass the time, awaiting the results for something you haven’t even betted for.

“Right. Like I haven’t seen you trying to squeeze out a drop of beer from our empty cans whenever Namjoon and I drink.”

“Rude,” you roll your eyes playfully, gathering your things from the ground.

“It’s okay. I’ll give you your first sip of beer too if you want,” Yoongi offers sincerely; easily as if you’ve just asked him about the weather.

He’s here to buy you your first scratch ticket, and he’s still here to offer giving you your first sip of liquor in the future.

Your family friend for a cashier vehemently ignores the fact that you’re still underage to participate in the lottery, and instead only chuckles to herself in amusement. She’s an aunt that knows when to step in and not to, and she knows you won’t be harmed by a mere bet. In fact, she knows you won’t be harmed by anything with Yoongi in tow.

“I already used up all my change,” your frown in realization, holding the ticket in your hands in despair despite having scoured your wallet repeatedly.

“Rub it against the pavement. That’s what I do,” Yoongi lies fluidly, a scoff being caught in his throat when you actually attempt to do it.  “I was only kidding, Y/N. Jeez,” he groans, pulling out his wallet. “Ugh. Here. You can have one of my lucky coins.”

It’s the old one, tarnished beyond relief that you can barely recognize what it’s actual value is supposed to be.

“Ew. I’m giving it back. It looks prehistoric,” you narrow your eyes, knowing that you don’t even have to put your fingers nears your nose to know that it’s already left a faint stench on them.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, a habit he can’t tell he’s formed himself or got from you. “If you use your brain for one second, you’d realize that it’s actually worth more because it’s older. Collectors would go crazy for that in the future.”

“That sounds like a hoarding problem.”

He’s just had about enough of your whining so he attempts to trade in the old coin for his lucky new one, but you stop him at the last minute with a meek smile.

“Kidding. Thank you. I’ll keep it safe, Yoongi. I promise,” you rush out before he changes his mind, scratching your ticket in silence.

He waits for you because you’re scratching so politely and neatly, a stark opposite to his experienced skill of scratching the paint off in ten strokes or less.

Your face is too close to the ticket that Yoongi can’t tell what’s happening, making him part your hair like a curtain to peek.

“Did you win?”

“Nope.”

“Let me throw that out for you.”

“No!” you squeak, keeping the ticket close to your chest. It’s a bummer that your first time is a loss, but it didn’t mean that you wanted to forget the sentiment behind it. “I-I mean no, I’ll keep it. It’s memorable now that I think about it.”

“Alright,” he shrugs carelessly, a smile breaking out in retaliation. “Hoarder.”

“Gambler,” you spit, tucking the ticket into your pencil case. “Next week again?”

Yoongi agrees, wrapping his head around the fact that he doesn’t have to be alone in his little routine every Friday.

“Sure.”

( ♡ )

You don’t mind getting hand-me-downs.

As a matter of fact, you love receiving them. The wear and tear of the things that came before you is only proof that it’s been loved enough to be passed on to you.

You adore your mother’s dainty vintage watch that she wore throughout college, the hardware and sentiment behind it being pretty enough that you don’t mind constantly getting the battery replaced. You like Namjoon’s shirts that he’s outgrown, even through the numerous phases he’s had wherein only denim and tie-dye filled his closet.

You don’t mind the history behind the numerous things you have in your home, unbothered that you’re probably the only house in the block with the oldest possible rice cooker. The chips in the staircase aren’t covered up with marker ink and neither are the loose stitches in the couch quilt snipped off. It’s home to your mother and Namjoon — if it’s good enough for them, then it’s already the best for you.

Even on top of everything, you don’t mind your family almost always getting you shirts and shoes that have an allowance in them. Your mom would go to Seoul and pick out the exact pair of sneakers you wanted that are atleast three sizes bigger than your actual feet, and you’d barely bat an eye. 

You don’t mind the coziness of things that are brought to you, because even if they weren’t offered, you’d seek them yourself. 

So when Yoongi mentioned that he’s decluttering his room and needed someone (read: you) to vacuum it up for him, you jump at the chance. You take a grocery bag with you, wear the nearest pair of slippers within your vicinity, and book it to his house as soon as he finished talking.

“Go crazy, kid. Almost everything in that pile is garbage so you can take anything.”

“I feel like I should be more offended than how I feel right now,” you hum, furrowing your eyebrows at the pile in front of you. It’s a mound of Yoongi, or atleast everything he’s ever wanted up until he decided to do a general cleaning of his bedroom.

Yoongi chuckles, going through his pile of clean laundry for him to fold on the side while you scavenge for his things. “It’s either I have you take them or I get ripped off at the thrift store, then I see somebody’s uncle wearing my shirt as an added insult.”

You huff, rummaging through his heap of belongings while conveniently trying to ignore that you may look like somebody’s uncle the moment you wear his clothes. Everything is him; every distressed cap, every unfinished embroidered shirt, and every item of old significance with his initials branded on it.

The thick gray hoodie you’ve been eyeing (along with its owner) for the better part of the last few years surfaces into your field of vision, your gasp audible enough to make him jolt because he thought you’d gotten hurt.

“No way, this too? But this is your favorite,” you half-complain and half-rejoice, turning the hoodie inside-out eagerly in the fear that there’s a catch to it belonging in the pile.

“Eh. I know it looked good on me but I don’t think it’s my favorite. Besides, I’ve bulked up! Wanna feel?” Yoongi grins, his segue eerily similar to your brother’s at every given chance. A neighbor from down the block recently opened a small-time gym, and the both of them have not been able to shut their mouths about it since. From their gossiping alone, Yoongi and Namjoon have generated enough advertising already.

“You and Namjoon really have to stop asking random people to feel your biceps.”

There’s random knick-knacks throughout the clump in the middle of his bed, some being too good and actually useful that you snag them. Yoongi lets you do what you want anyways (most of the time), not having to turn his head to berate you on what you’re only allowed to grab from his stuff.

You’re not greedy — you already have his hoodie and that should be enough on its own. But there’s that handkerchief with his initials embroidered on it, then that Rubik’s cube he swore his relative got for him from New York, and even the little butterfly knife he got from a souvenir shop when his family when to the beach.

There were those and there is this, looking up at you in all of its glory.

“Yoongi.” 

“What now?” he sighs at your dramatic gasp, looking up from his folded laundry to see what you were going on about. It takes a second for him to fully realize why exactly were you so pumped.

“Are you serious? Your helmet?” you squeal, already hugging the shiny red mass close to you. “Does this mean you’re passing your motorcycle to me?!”

“Are you crazy? Fuck no,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, snatching his helmet back from you. He doesn’t miss the bratty frown that fills up your entire face; he’s not exactly the biggest fan whenever you were upset or angry; maybe even both. “Obviously I forgot I even put my helmet there when I made that pile.”

You whine, stomping your feet in exasperation. You would dramatically plop down on his bed if only it wasn’t full of his shit. “Come on! You told me you were teaching me as soon as you finish teaching Joon.”

“Teaching you how to ride my scooter is not the same as giving you it. Why would I just hand you what I bought with my hard-earned money?” Yoongi scrunches his nose, tone sharper than what he intended.

“But you still haven’t taught me,” you murmur to placate yourself and dissuade yourself from the delusion that Yoongi would even exert such an effort for you because of course — why would he do that for you?

You have an inkling that you’re being irrational for all the wrong reasons, perhaps even projecting your need to be looked after… by him.

Yoongi notices your mood that turned sour quickly, the silence between you becoming loaded. He didn’t mean to be that blunt. “I don’t think you’re even old enough to have your driving permit,” he adds in consolation, voice considerably softer.

You snicker lowly, still looking at your feet with your arms crossed. “But I’m old enough to backpack whenever you need me to carry shit that can’t fit in your carrier.”

He immediately groans at your comeback, his furrowed eyebrows mirroring yours. “You’re so stubborn.”

“You’re a hypocrite,” you retort, knowing for a fact he’s known how to drive even before he was eligible for permits and licenses and whatnot. 

Yoongi takes one, two seconds to himself to regain his composure, clearing his head in the process. You’re still not looking at him and you’re pouting and you don’t even notice the latter, making him crack a small smile.

“I will teach you next week.”

“Oh my-…”

He cuts you off, raising his hand in emphasis. “Provided that you listen to everything I say and wear full gear at all times. You clearly don’t have a job yet-…”

“Ouch.”

“And I don’t have the extra money to buy full gear for myself, so what you’ll do is bundle up with your padded coat and the thickest jeans you have,” Yoongi enunciates every word, eyes keenly on you. They’re too wide and alert, you actually feel like listening to him.

“You go on rides wearing your pajamas.”

“Just say ‘thank you, Yoongi’.” 

“You haven’t done anything yet,” you trail off, head tilting in confusion. 

You’ve had a million conversations like this with Yoongi before but of different fonts; worn, familiar, and warm.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” he mouths, nodding at you to do the same. He won’t stop until you utter them back to him, and you know you won’t go home either without giving him your gratitude as you always do.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you relent, the grin that breaks through your lips being infectious enough that he laughs lowly to himself.

He exhales all the worries he has and could possibly ever have seeing you ride the motorcycle (or for you yearning to do everything that he does), grasping at whatever sanity he has left from looking after you.

“You can have the helmet.”

( ♡ )

Yoongi knows the ins and outs of your home.

He’s been at your house too much to the point that your mom already gave him a spare key and nobody batted an eye about it. He has his own designated slippers at the entryway too, something you would only use in a hurry if you needed to sign off on a package.

Yoongi, for some reason unfathomable (not really; you can tell exactly why because your mom is an extremely warm and inviting person), also has the power of dibs on the food in your fridge. He’d put strips of masking tape with his name on food that’s neither brought in nor made for him in the first place. 

It should be off-putting — the way that for too many yet too little reason, Yoongi has become a prominent figure in your life even if you didn’t ask him to. You should be peeved that you have to set up four plates more often that you set up only three; you should be annoyed at some point that when you wake up at random times through the night, you’re not totally alone to begin with.

You shouldbe angry at Yoongi to a degree because he’s in your life and you don’t get to have a say on how he stays in it. The only problem is that you’re not, and probably never will.

“Can’t sleep?” you mutter as you look up from your strikingly clear paper, seeing Yoongi strut across the floor with a casualness that only real occupants of the house should supposedly possess. He has his brows furrowed at you as if he didn’t expect to see you in your living room, scratching his head in wonder.

“Why are you up?”

“Stressed,” you sigh, giving up altogether in attempting to make yourself look busy. Yoongi drives by your fridge to get himself a can of beer, finally seating himself beside you on the floor. 

“Stressed about what? I’m sure it’s not about studying,” he snorts, unsurprised at your paper and the clear lack of motivation behind it. You only roll your eyes at him and he has half a mind to not remind you to not do it so much, the frown in your face reminding him that you really were frustrated.

It is you to throw the occasional tantrum, but he remembers that it was only when you were young; when Namjoon would whisper gibberish to his ear and purposely not whisper to yours just so he could tease you, or when nobody would believe that you taught yourself how to ride a bike with no training wheels. You didn’t know how to do the latter at all, but what had made you throw a tantrum was that nobody believed you.

You notice Yoongi’s digs, of course. You notice each one of his more than unsubtle nods to your intelligence and whatnot, the shots at your intellect not flying over your head like he expected them to.  You admit that you’ve never been that scholastic; you weren’t born a genius and you don’t try exactly hard either.

Yoongi’s only joking but you can’t help but to think that he’s pertaining to something deeper, his constant digs at your lack of a passion making you sluggish.

“We have to write this essay,” you answer simply, your tone straightforward and unwilling for banter but Yoongi bites anyway.

“But essays are the easiest,” he trails, looking at you the whole time as he takes a sip of his beer.

You exhale heavily because no matter what, he just can’t seem to get it. Yoongi knows where you’re coming from but he doesn’t know where you’re headed. As a matter of fact, you don’t know where you’re headed either. “We have to write an essay about where we see ourselves ten years from now.”

“But that’s still easy.”

“If it’s so easy, then go write it for me,” you snicker, leaning back with a huff. He constantly undermines you and although you own up to your striking mundaneness from time to time, it didn’t mean that you liked being looked down on. Yoongi’s too used to you being yourself, he gets taken aback when you grow sick of your own.

He gathers all his willpower, far from being sleepy unlike you who would’ve been lulled to sleep if only you weren’t dead-set on arguing with him. “You know what? I actually will,” he claps, handing you his beer. “Go hold this for me.”

Yoongi grips your pen for dear life like you hold his beer, his hand warm as he works from sheer determination alone (he’s not competing with anyone except for whatever expectation you have for him and your paper), while yours was cold just holding his drink.

You’ve been so quiet that he actually gets curious, turning his head to check to see if you’ve dozed off when actually, it’s just you eyeing the can.

“No one’s watching,” Yoongi breaks you out of your thoughts, carelessly shrugging. He cares and he’s far too concerned for you, but he figures that nothing would hurt you so long as he can grasp you. “It’s okay. You can have your first sip.”

You blink owlishly at him and when he jokes about taking it back, you take your first swig of beer in a panic. Yoongi only shakes his head in amusement, pausing his writing just to see the look on your face.

“One more?” he asks right after he sees you wince, the unbearable sweetness yet bitter, stinging aftertaste of the beer making you shudder. 

You have the urge to wash off the taste with ice cold water (you’ll even drink from the tap because you’re so desperate), but you resist it just so you wouldn’t look like a weakling in front of him. You wave him off with a bitterness, upset that beer doesn’t taste like what you’ve always imagined it to be. “Just write my essay for me,” you mull over the taste in your tongue, in deep thought while you stare at Yoongi’s back ahead of you. “Do all beers taste that way?”

“Eh. Most of them do. You develop a taste for it later on,” he answers, taking the can back from you before drinking it himself. He looks too dedicated in writing your essay, only goading the curiosity in you to peek over his shoulder.

He knows you, both in heart and memory, because he shields your own paper from you when he sees your shadow hovering above him.

“Yoongi?”

“Hm.”

“I told you why I’m up. Why are you up?”

He’s silent entirely, the only indication that he heard your question being his hand pausing abruptly. Yoongi doesn’t answer, and you don’t ask again. “Don’t worry about it.”

You take his answer to heart, dozing off on the couch before you know it. You don’t remember a blanket being placed on you, nor can you remember preparing your backpack for school the next day.

Your paper’s neatly tucked into your portfolio bearing handwriting that’s clearly not yours, but with a sentiment that’s similar nonetheless. You read through everything quickly before even stepping towards your teacher, the tips of your fingers just as cold as Yoongi’s beer last night.

You’ve committed the paper into your memory, even until the last part with an excerpt you can’t forget despite having passed the paper already. You don’t know what to feel because it’s Yoongi who’s speaking for you, detailing that ten years from now, you will still be your mother’s daughter and your brother’s sister.

He wrote your essay either for you or in behalf of you, and you can’t tell which one is better.

Yoongi, who knows the ins and outs of your home and the peaks and troughs of your heart, writes in clear handwriting — Ten years from now, I will still be Yoongi’s rock.

( ♡ )

Surprisingly, Yoongi hasn’t been around that much lately.

Even Namjoon (who you consider as his Siamese twin) is clueless to why his friend hasn’t been hanging out with him lately to do either everything or nothing, confused because they’re enrolled to the same classes all the way to the same part-time jobs, yet Yoongi’s been mostly unavailable.

When Yoongi is, however, he doesn’t speak at all about his previous absences. He comes as if he’s never disappeared a few times before that, his evasion to talk about his presence being apparent even if you’ve asked him directly.

You’re getting used to his new routine of hanging out with you only when the both of you are free, no longer moving mountains for both of your schedules to line up. He’s more present this month than he was at the last, the criteria for it being how many times you bump into him in your own home.

Despite all odds and evens though, Yoongi can’t get used to your silence. He knows you hold grudges longer than your brother, and the last time that he checked, he knows you’ve already let go of your annoyance for him suddenly being unavailable without any explanation. 

It’s late, only the two of you are awake in the living room, there’s ten scratch tickets on the table for you to share, and he’s even gotten you your own glass to which he’ll put a controlled amount (a grand total of two long sips) of his own beer in. You’re not stressing about an essay this time, but the unconscious pout on your face is still the same.

“You’re awfully quiet.”

The frown on your face only goes deeper at being found out, the scratch of your lucky coin being the only clear thing that Yoongi hears. 

“My best friends want to have this slumber party,” you sigh, more upset about what you’ve just uttered than you are happy about the cash prize you’ve just won.

Yoongi takes what you say at face-value, groaning at his third straight loss for the night. “That’s great. Wear cute pajamas, snap a couple of polaroids, don’t be the first to fall asleep and last to wake up, and just keep a pocket knife with you when you’re going out by yourself.” 

The awe (and slight concern) over what he said should roll in any time now.

You should be comforted at Yoongi’s words because they’re supposed to ease the swirl of your stomach, even if what he just said is a repackaged version of what your family said before. You should let go of your worries because Yoongi, of all people, says that it’s supposed to be great.

Instead, you feel neither of what you think Yoongi wants you to.

“Was it something I said?” he mumbles after some time, turning his nose up at you as he tries to retrace his words. “I have an extra pocket knife you can borrow if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“We’re gonna be talking about boys, Yoongi,” you screw your eyes shut, sighing into the palms of your hands with a heaviness. “We’re gonna talk about crushes and experiences and all that.”

He shudders at that, his reaction mirroring Namjoon’s when you tried opening up to him. You get your brother’s reaction to a degree, of course, because you feel as if you’d be disgusted too if the roles were reversed. You want to talk about it with your mom too, but at the end of the day, she’s your parent and you just can’t talk about anything and everything with her. 

Yoongi’s your next plausible option.

“Do you want some ice cream right now? You know what, I’ll buy you-…” Yoongi tries to evade the topic altogether, his attempt of escaping feeble as you drag him down by his hoodie.

“I haven’t had my first kiss yet.”

“Heh.”

Yoongi shrugs at that, regaining his words when you deadpan at him. “So? What about it?”

You starfish on the floor at that out of frustration, the whine you’ve been bottling up coming out in the open because as usual, Yoongi doesn’t get it. “I-I’m probably the only one in my grade who hasn’t kissed someone yet! I can’t just lie carelessly because obviously, they’ll ask around.”

“So?” Yoongi chuckles, his breeze towards your state shocking you. “What’s it to them if you haven’t had your first kiss?”

“You don’t get it,” you grit through your teeth, crossing your arms so hard that it feels hard to inhale.

“I’m pretty sure I do,” he sing-songs, drinking the last of his beer. When you’re not looking though, he plans to either drink or chuck the remainder of your share because he doesn’t want you to develop a taste for it.

The anger you have for Yoongi bubbles up once again, the itch in your throat unbearable. You’re presented with the age gap between you once more, along with the raging emptiness in you that Yoongi’s reached so far and you’ve reached so little.

“You don’t get it because you’ve had all of these experiences when you were younger than my age right now,” you snap, although you don’t look at him when you do. If you do look at him though, you’ll only be reminded of how a face like his could have everything in this world — even a first kiss you’ve never had.

“Yeah, and so?” he knits his brows, growing defensive. You weren’t lying at all, but he still feels a little offended at the dig. He’s not not proud of it, but with the way you say it, it’s like you want him to burn in shame,

“Stop saying so,” you angrily mumble in frustration, a little breathless because you still don’t ease up on crossing your arms.

Yoongi straightens his posture, staring you down with his jaw set. He’s stern as he is, nostrils flaring in irritation. “No, Y/N. I’m genuinely asking — so what? What’s it to you if I had my first kiss at a younger age? What about it if everyone else in your grade has kissed someone and you haven’t? It’s not the end of the world.”

“I-I don’t know! It’s just unfair!” you let up, yielding to both the facts that Yoongi’s right with it not being the end of the world, and that you’re still entitled to feeling upset.

“Instead of spending time obsessing over your first kiss, maybe I don’t know,  try being productive? You’re heading to college soon and you haven’t even thought of a career,” Yoongi goes off on you, making you roll your eyes automatically. There he goes again with the great big push of trying to push you into your supposed passions in life. “Someone else’s luck doesn’t mean it’s already your misfortune.”

“But it is.”

You say it so definitively, you almost convince him. You have your principles and so does Yoongi, but not everyone else. You have your principles yet you don’t have the luck. You’re not getting anywhere in life just like Yoongi or anyone else who was remotely born into wealth, no matter how quiet or obvious.

You can’t pursue something that interests you in the slightest without thinking what would come out of it. You can’t think of a degree and a course you’ll stick with, enough to do for the rest of your life because the only other option is to fail completely if you don’t. You have no plan and no passion and you don’t know if you’ll ever amount to anything to anyone at all.

By all means, you don’t agree with Yoongi this time. Someone else’s luck is your misfortune, in the same way that his first kiss doesn’t mean that it’s yours.

The sidetrack to your argument is a closed case already, judging by your downcast gaze. “I just have to put myself out there, that’s all. My first kiss doesn’t even have to mean anything. I just want to have it,” you admit, shoulders relaxing.

“Don’t,” Yoongi groans, the opposite of you as his whole body tenses.

He thinks that you don’t get him at all.

“What do you meandon’t?”

Your argument’s long-over (atleast you thought it was) but Yoongi’s getting more agitated by the minute, the disbelief on his face throwing you off. “Don’t do things just because you feel like you have to! Are you even hearing yourself right now?”

“I don’t want to be left behind, Yoongi! That’s all I’m trying to get at,” you raise your hands in surrender, shrugging thoughtlessly — it makes him want yell into a paper bag in exasperation. “I don’t want to be picked last. I don’t want to not be wanted.”

Yoongi exhales, screwing his eyes shut. It stays silent like that for a little while; him calming himself down, and you scratching your tickets. The calm doesn’t stay for long because you open your mouth carelessly, again.

“Can you be my first kiss?”

“Are you insane?”

“Ugh.”

You go back to your fourth scratch ticket, pouting in disappointment. You’re unfazed about the win that’s probably the largest sum you’ve had ever since you started doing the lottery.

You’re upset and you’re sick in the stomach but you stay silent like you never asked Yoongi to be your first kiss; it’s like you haven’t indirectly admitted to him that you love him enough, more than so, to want him to be your first.

You’re about to scratch the final ticket when Yoongi juts his hand out, fingers barely brushing yours to stop you.

“On second thought, don’t scratch that. Just keep it.”

“Because you want to turn me into a hoarder too?” you snicker, heeding his suggestion regardless.

“Because I’m not going to be right about everything,” Yoongi mumbles, looking at you with a solemnness you can’t decipher.

You try until the solemnness turns into pity.

“Still don’t want to be my first kiss?”

Yoongi softly laughs to your face, smiling as he lets you down — whether easily or harshly, you can’t tell.

“You already know what I’m going to say.”

( ♡ )

You’d like to think that you’re not kept in the dark about most things.

You already know that although your mom hasn’t had any relationships since your dad left, she still has plenty of suitors. Some of them are the reason why you have random food deliveries in the middle of the dinner that she’s already cooked, some have sucked up to her by getting you and Namjoon gifts. 

You know about Namjoon’s growing love for football, even with the lessons he takes in secret because he didn’t want to trouble your mom for the money. It’s why he does his part-time job and why you’re looking for one anyways. You don’t want nor need much, so you almost always give him the remainder of your allowance by the end of each week.

Yoongi, on the other hand, you don’t know much about. You know that he’s an only child with a doting mom who works overseas and a rich but emotionally unavailable dad at home, and that’s about it. His home life is synonymous with yours, considering that your four walls have become an extension of his.

Maybe you’ve become too lenient on him — either that, or he’s become too disrespectful. It’s at times like these where your house is not his home, sickeningly so that you don’t want it to be yours either.

Yoongi is a sight to behold as he makes out with a half-naked girl on your bed, in your room. Your room has never been the neatest but with everything going on, it feels that it’s become the dirtiest that it’s ever been. Your house slippers are on the floor even if you always leave them by the entryway, and your sheets are a mess despite being one of the only things you try to keep folded in the room.

You’re angry, too much to the point that the words get caught in your throat. They catch onto bile and venom and everything at once, the strain in your voice heard when you yell.

“What the fuck?!”

Yoongi and the girl, whom you figure out to be Hyewon that he’s shared his first kiss with, jolt in unison. Hyewon’s scared shitless while Yoongi’s annoyed to death, the grunt he lets out pricking your ears further. “Sorry, sorry. She’s my best friend’s sister. She’s so annoying,” he drags you out of your room before he even gives you the entitlement to storm out of there in a fit of rage, seeing red the longer that he seems upset at you.

“What the fuck was that, Yoongi?” you grit through your teeth, the moment of you seeing red turn into white because you’re so frustrated that you could actually cry. Your chest’s heavy, not only out of rage, but out of everything that’s built up in the course of years.

“Can you keep it down?” Yoongi seethes, pursing his lips. “What, would you rather see us do it in the living room?”

“In the — what? Who do you think you are? This isn’t even your house, why are you bringing these girls here?” you point an accusing finger at him yet he doesn’t back away, his annoyance for you only growing tenfold.

He’s in the wrong no matter which way you look at it yet he doesn’t realize it, the epiphany that Yoongi genuinely thinks he’s in the right for doing this to you making your skin burn in fire.

“This is literally the first time I’ve ever done this! I can’t bring her back to my place, my dad has guests over!”

“So your smartest idea is to fuck someone in my bed?”

“Oh, you’re welcome. It’s the most action your four walls have ever seen,” he spits sarcastically, eyes narrowing at you. It takes little effort for him to dig up what you came to him for in worry and it terrifies you. The facet of Yoongi who had sternly told you that it was okay to be left behind if it means getting what you deserve, resembling nothing like him at the moment.

“I can’t believe you!” you whisper as you tremble, the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. “I told you that in confidence.”

“In confidence? It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’re not exactly a catch, Y/N.”

You clench your jaw so hard that it hurts, you ball your fists so tightly that it stings.

You leave your home without saying another word.

.

.

.

Namjoon’s panicked.

He came home a little later than usual because he had maximized the life out of his soccer lessons, only getting the signal to leave when the lights were turned off. He was only slightly worried at the first place because he was supposed to cook dinner for the both of you, but he placated himself by realizing that you’re not the baby that he still thinks you are — you could cook dinner for yourself if you were hungry already.

He thinks nothing of it. In fact, he just makes a quick stop at the convenience store so the both of you could indulge in a liter of ice cream without your mom urging to leave some for another night. You could think of a recipe from scratch (and it almost always works out at the end), so Namjoon walked in fully thinking he’ll get to sniff whatever concoction you have.

Except, he walks into a completely dark house, and that’s when he panics.

He can’t find your slippers by the entryway and you’re not in your room either. You’re not at the other convenience store hunched over taking your chances on scratch tickets, and you’re not out on the street either going people-watching.

The panic rises in him the more that Namjoon grasps this is the first time that this has ever happened and he doesn’t know why. He’s always made an effort to be absorbed into both your personal and academic affairs, and as far as he knows, you’re neither in a sleepover nor on a field trip somewhere.

Namjoon thinks it’s his fault someway somehow, and the guilt can’t fully dissipate from him until he sees you.

“Hey, Yoongi,” he breathlessly gasps the moment his friend answers, the latter being surprised because he thought it was you who was calling him after what happened awhile ago.

It’s his fault and he’s realized that hours too late, and the selfish part of him thinks that it’s you calling at ten in the evening begging for forgiveness.

“What’s up, man? It’s late,” he wonders out loud, thinking for a second if they were too much of the Siamese twins that you tease them to be because he can’t think of a rational reason why Namjoon would call him at this time of night.

Namjoon raggedly exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’m just wondering if you’ve seen Y/N by any chance?”

Yoongi’s heart drops so loudly that Namjoon thought for second that his friend had hung up on him, his urgency being shared the moment that he asked.

“What? Y/N isn’t home?” Yoongi asks in disbelief, immediately being filled with anxiety and disbelief. Just awhile ago, the two of you were arguing outside of your room. He did hear you leave, but he had fully expected for you to be back hours ago. He’s wracked with guilt all over, the drop in his chest amplified by the pit in his stomach.

“She’s not. Practice ran late and I-I know she’s responsible so I didn’t hurry home,” Namjoon recalls, being more and more frazzled by the second. “She left her phone here, and mom isn’t here either because she’s visiting my grandparents, a-and I don’t want to call her because I know she’ll be worried, a-and-…”

Yoongi interrupts him, the tremble in his fingers only enabling him to dig his nails into his palm deeper. “I’m coming over. Let’s look for her together.”

It barely takes a minute for the both of them to come together, not even exchanging any pleasantries with each other before Yoongi steps on the gas. 

Namjoon’s filled with guilt, the type that only a sibling could carry as a burden. He thinks he was too selfish — too accustomed to pulling your own weight that it must have given you the impression that you had no other choice but to. Whatever it was that made you leave out of the blue, Namjoon thinks he could’ve done more. He should’ve came home and made you dinner as promised, for starters. He’s guilty over the fact that he’s the only close familial male figure in your life and he let this happen, as he makes Yoongi put his headlights on high-beam, scanning for anyone that looks remotely like you.

Yoongi, on the other hand, is filled with a guilt he can’t even begin to explain. It corrodes him from the inside-out in realization that he’s to blame for your sudden disappearance, the fact that Namjoon comes to him first to help find you not helping at all. If only your brother knew what he had done to you, he’s positive that he’ll be on the receiving end of a punch — what gets him more is that Yoongi wouldn’t blame him at all.

They see you in the bus stop two cities away, dressed in the same clothes you ran out with. 

Namjoon’s relieved beyond compare while Yoongi’s fuming, his hands tucked inside his jacket to prevent himself from squeezing you into an embrace; neither of you deserve it. 

There’s an underlying anger within Namjoon, one that lies behind the back of his throat as he checks you over for any injuries. The two of you walk ahead to Yoongi’s car while he himself trails behind, his heart significantly calmer than it was the past hour, yet nowhere near normal.

“Wanna tell me what you did?” your brother hums, trying to exhale the worry that’s embedded into him with each squeeze he gives around your shoulders.

“Went to the convenience store, bumped into my friends, then we took this impromptu roadtrip to go to the night market, then we all had our first actual shot of liquor and not just beer, my friend who owns the car turned out to be a lightweight, and now everyone just has to commute home,” you narrate in recollection, squeezing Namjoon back to try and ground him.

“Okay,” he answers simply, nodding. “Wanna tell me what happened before you did all those things?”

The breathless chuckle that leaves you is empty, void of any amusement at all. You smile nonetheless, unable to placate both yourself and Namjoon. “Nope.”

You arrive in silence to Yoongi’s car, the words unsaid between the three of you generating more tension than your brief disappearance itself.

Yoongi opens the front door for you, but you settle for sitting in the backseat.

[deepspacedarling]

HIYAA, so i saw your post abt getting into an argument with the LAD boys and was wondering if you could maybe do an extended version of everything but it ends in fluff? Obviously you don’t do all the boys, you can choose who you want to write it for. Thats alll BYYEEE

Making Up with the LADS Boys

Warning: None

AN: I was hoping someone would ask for this. Angst always makes me sad and if no one asked for this I was going to have to take matters into my own hands and write you guys making up.

Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb

Pt 1. How the LADS Boys Argue with You

Xavier

He still doesn't understand why you're upset with him. He still thinks he's right. But he acknowledges that he upset you and he wants to fix that. He loves you so much and you mean the world to him.

He might go to Jeremiah and ask for a second opinion to see if he's actually in the wrong. Whether he was or wasn't, he'll ask how he can make you feel better and resolve the issue.

He doesn't like going to bed angry with you. He'll spend the whole night figuring this out with you if he has to. Once the matter is resolved and you're both snuggled up close again together, he feels like everything is finally okay again.

Zayne

You guys don't go more than a day after the argument without him trying to come to you and resolve the issue. He doesn't like being upset with you and he knows that you feel the same. You're both calm rational adults. You can figure this out together.

Now that he's had a moment to calm down, he thinks over and over again about what he needs to say to you. He's got a whole script in his head to tell you how sorry he is and get his initial thoughts from the fight across without upsetting you. That all kind of goes out the window when you two start talking and he starts to flounder.

He's not the best with his words. He'll stumble during the conversation but he's earnest in his want to find a compromise with you. You two will get past this, he'll make sure of it.

Rafayel

Poor Thomas has to listen to him complain about your argument for HOURS. When Thomas finally tells him to go fix it, he grumbles and goes home. He'll come slinking into the house and you'll both eye each other warily to see if one of you is going to start arguing again before eventually he sighs and sits down. He's not getting up until this is fixed or you hurt his feeling again.

He'll apologize for hurting your feelings. He always tends to go for the jugular when he's upset and he knows that it hurts you when he acts like that. He didn't mean what he said but he knows it hurt you anyway so he's sorry.

He'll make sure repeatedly that you're not still upset with him after you both find a compromise. He doesn't want you to leave him so he'll do what he must to keep you even if that means admitting he was wrong.

Sylus

Initially, he'll try to buy your happiness back. Of course you'll stop being mad if he gets you that new car you wanted or that diamond necklace you were looking at. But then he realizes it isn't working and he has to shift gears.

He'll sit you down and listen to what you have to say. There's a long moment afterwards of him just thinking. He's not really the type of give in unless he's getting something out of it. He'll carefully maneuver the conversation so that you can find a happy medium. He's not willing to start a fight again but he's not willing to just give in either.

Once it's all said and done, he's happy with the result. He wants you to stay with him so he'll play nice even if it means he doesn't 100% get what he wants. What you want is important to to keep your relationship healthy.

Caleb

He'll do anything to get you to stop being angry with him. You don't understand. His brain is already conjuring up ideas of you leaving him. Of him coming home and your things are gone and he never sees you again.

He's much more receptive to your point of view once he's scared himself enough. He's still not 100% on board with your side of the argument but he's willing to compromise if it means you stay with him.

Once you've smiled at him and found a happy medium, he can finally breath again. You're going to stay with him. He's going to be okay. He needs to make sure that this argument never happens again. He'll do what he has to to ensure it doesn't.

Requests are Open!

[howlingmod]

builderman w/ a computery s/o think abt it ....

they're somewhere in the same realm as scp-079; a sentient system with a wide breadth of control trapped in one place and builderman just finds that fascinating.

its one of the first times anyone would see him light up, coming across you. the moment he realizes you're more than canned threats on a looping screen, he's over the moon. question after question falls out before he can stop them, asking what you are and what you're capable of doing, who made you, how long you've been here- the works.

you can't "feel" it persay but you can still sense the pressure and warmth of his hands on you, delicately shifting you this way and that to get a better look at what you are. he laughs it off when you eventually shock him, overwhelmed by all the attention. its not exactly the most comfortable thing, going from sitting abandoned and alone to being cradled and caressed while someone lists off observations about your make and model.

it starts off as mostly scientific curiosity but it doesnt take long before he starts askinf about YOU, what you've been doing to keep busy, how you're feeling- it all feels a bit strange. he'll ask you something as classicly human and mundane as your day while digging around your wires, tracing back to each port and drive he can reach without risking harm to your system.

speaking of which, he does a lot of examining you. he always asks beforehand, wanting to remain as polite and professional as a man who sets you on his lap criss-crossed on the floor talking to you can be. he just wants to see what modifications they might've made to you, it helps him figure you out- plus, if you should ever break, he'll know exactly how he can fix you up!

when he's not talking up a storm with you, he's asleep. your "home" is a little ways away from the cabin, so it's always a trek out there to get to you, one that he insists on making despite you pointing out the meaninglessness of it. he'll still try and talk to you for a while, see how you're doing and if anything's wrong, but he'll eventually go quiet, growing still until he inevitably drifts off. he's not sure why he makes the trip out when he knows he'll fall asleep, to be honest, he just wants to be around you. it feels safer.

he's fond of you, if you couldn't tell. if people catch him smiling back at the cabin he's usually thinking about you, whether it be an interaction you two had or just the memory of you varies. more than a few times he's carefully hoisted you onto his lap, mindful of your cables, and just kinda held you there. its comfortable, surprisingly. you can feel the warmth emanating through him, one of the few times you notice just how cold your body really is.

at some point, he'll try and convince you to let him move you back to the cabin. you're at a higher risk out here, it's colder and anyone could come by and mistake you for a threat, if anything happened to you ...

he's as careful as can be. he leaves the most vital cables for last, talking you through the whole process of disconnecting you so you know exactly what he's doing. he talks quietly, allowing you some peace despite how nervous he is. his hands are shaky and he knows you can tell but he refuses to drop the facade. when he does finally pull your power cord, he promises that he'll see you again in no time with a smile.

its different to the grin you wake up to, somewhere warmer and more personal, comfortable looking. the smile had been more nervous, but this was nothing short of raw excitement, unfiltered by nerves. maybe not his proudest moment to the others, he was frantically putting you back together to ensure nothing got bent out of shape and damaged you and it was maybe a little embarassing to be seen hugging a screen like it was a long-lost lover but oh welll.

if you shock the others he'll look the other way he supports robot wrongs.

[scnderlands]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ SMALL DRABBLE

authors notes — okay I haven’t been able to stop thinking abt jiyan so i needed to get a post out asap!! I thought this up while in the shower so like…yk, no need to explain anymore

content warnings + tags — MINORS / BLANK BLOGS DNI, gender neutral reader, sfw, honestly just wholesome (?) stuff

jiyan wasn’t exactly a homely person, most of his time was spent on the frontlines or in a base somewhere, and most of the time he didn’t mind that.

lately though, he’d been overhearing a lot of his soldiers talking about home. how they couldn’t wait to make it back to their significant others, to their children, to the rest of their families — how the only thing keeping them going was the idea of going back home; and jiyan couldn’t help but notice the way his chest felt crushed every time he heard it.

he wasn’t sure what it was, whether it was some form of jealousy because they had what he didn’t, or whether it was sadness because they had to leave their families behind to defend against the constant TD outbreaks.

it wasn’t until he met you that he started really feeling not having anyone around him like all his soldiers had. he’d notice how much he longed to have you around once he was alone, how he needed to hear your laugh and the silly stories you told to boost morale. he longed to have you sat next to him even if it were even in silence.

eventually, you became his home, even when he was away from the city. you were the significant other, family, and friend he needed — you were the everything that everyone else had and he didn’t know he needed.

jiyan started coming to your tent often, a lot of the time he went with the idea of talking, of venting some of his frustrations but most of the time he’d just sit beside you silently. of course, you didn’t mind, you knew that sometimes he just needed the quiet company of someone else — an escape from what his daily life was and what the world had become.

“hey, jiyan?” your hand rested on the top of his as he sat on your bed beside you.

he looked over with a blank expression, but you could still see the sadness and tiredness in his eyes.

instead of speaking you just smiled and pulled his head down towards your lap, and he didn’t fight back.

“it’s okay, jiyan…it’s okay.” you stroked the back of his head and let your fingers weave through his hair.

jiyan let out a long sigh, something he felt like he’d been holding in for years, finally not having to wear a strong mask around his soldiers so they couldn’t see he was just as worn out as they were. his hand moved up and gripped at your thigh, and you could feel his entire body relax under your hand. a decade of stress feeling like it was finally able to fall from his shoulders, something he no longer had to bare alone.

nowadays jiyan could subtly smile at the conversations he overheard, he could relate to what they were saying, how they felt. he knew what it was to have something, someone, he wanted to protect more than the world. his chest no longer had that pang of pain, instead his heart felt like it was getting fuller and fuller with each passing day.

finally, jiyan had a home.

and you were it.

[shuacore]

svt & subspace (m)

1.4k a/n: again... idk where this came from.. just something i've been thinking abt the past couple days yippee!! (NSFW)

seungcheol — the first time you hit true subspace it turns him on to no end. loooves knowing he can make you feel so good your mind goes blank (he'll never let you forget it). you turn even more pliant, willing to do anything he wants you to do. he makes sure you know your safe word before anything else, sometimes repeating the question over and over until he gets a clear answer. despite how much he might want it, seungcheol will usually stop you from doing things just to please him, knowing your altered state might be urging you to do things you can’t fully consent to. seungcheol thinks subspace is hot, but only if you’re present enough to stop anything you don’t want to do. 

jeonghan — like seungcheol, jeonghan loves seeing you slip into subspace, loves seeing how you turn to putty in his hands, how willing you become to please him. with how eager and cocky jeonghan is, it’s not unusual for you to float away during sex right before an orgasm or after an intense one. unlike seungcheol, however, if you want him to face fuck you while you’re in subspace who is he to say no? will make sure you have a clear safe word/gesture, and will ask you to repeat it to him a few times before you start. always asks you a few times if you’re sure. it’s not the most productive when he has to drag answers out of you, but the last thing he wants to do is hurt his angel when you’re so ready to please him.

joshua — joshua cares about you so much and wants you to know that he’ll always be there to take care of you. he lets you know he’s there by slipping his hand into yours, grounding you. physical touch is a big thing for him, slowly bringing you back down to your body when you’re ready. joshua is so in tune with you and your body he knows exactly where to touch you and what to say to keep the good feelings going. subspace usually happens for you right before you come, and—like clockwork—as soon as he reminds you how much he loves you it sends you right over the edge where joshua is ready to catch you. 

jun — you’ve talked about it being a thing, but jun never thought he would actually get see it happen. the first time it happens, he sees the moment you feel pleasure so intense you lose the ability to speak. he never thought he’d be that good and he’s both a little surprised and also soooo turned on by the way you go limp, eyes almost rolled back in your head as haze overtakes you. the first time it happens, jun’s a little too eager and yanks you out of it a little too fast, leaving you a little disoriented. he feels really bad about it after, but jun is a quick learner and picks up on what you like and how to make the experience as enjoyable as possible for the both of you.

wonwoo — wonwoo’s thing is degradation, and after a particularly rough session of degradation and humiliation it sends you right over the edge into a floaty headspace. you don’t even have to come to get there. he’ll usually keep teasing you, dragging out your dumb state for as long as possible. he knows, however, that he can get intense during scenes so when you eventually come down he’s careful to give you lots of loving and praises for taking it so well. wonwoo loves to be mean, but he also loves you and wants you to know that none of what he says is true.

woozi — jihoon is split half and half. finds it hot, also not always the most patient. he loves to rile you up, watch you lean into it and inflate his ego. he loves making you feel good, but he also wants to good. when you linger in subspace for a long time he gets a little impatient and tries to bring you down before you're ready. he doesn't do it to be rude or mean, he just wants to keep loving on you. things to do (you) and places to be (work)!

hoshi — soonyoung loves to be the best at everything. whether that’s performing on stage or in the bedroom, he needs to know that he’s on top. (literally.) he loves to be mean and see you fold under his silver tongue—he loves to go back and forth between sickly praise and cold degradation and see you writhe and beg under him. seeing you sink into subspace goes straight to his dick and his ego. will always praise you after, letting you know he enjoyed it and wants to make sure you enjoyed it, too. you find it sexy how much soonyoung cares, which makes it that much easier for you to trust him so wholly.

minghao — minghao is all about trust, and he finds it sexy that you trust him enough to let him be with you when you slip into subspace. minghao isn’t a gentle lover, per se, but he is intense and prioritizes intimacy above all else. he knows it’s a delicate and deeply personal state to be in around someone else and will never make you do anything transactional. if he’s feeling extra mean, however, he’ll make fun of you for being so compliant...which usually goes straight to your core, leading to another round.

mingyu — mingyu is torn between finding it the hottest thing ever and trying not to panic (just a little) when you go nonverbal. on one hand yeah, he fucked your brains out and turned you ultra-dumb but on the other hey, are you okay baby? can you say something please? mingyu is sometimes too good with his cock for his own good that he’s always a little surprised when you enjoy it that much. he also secretly enjoys how needy it makes you and how you cling to him and love all up on him after a vigorous round.

dokyeom — short answer: freaks out. the likelihood of slipping into full subspace with a man who hates the idea of people being mad at him is… low. but once seokmin tried being meaner than usual with his words and his cock and it turned you on so much that after your fourth orgasm in a row you go nonverbal. seokmin stresses, petting your hair, asking you to breathe for him, to say something, “are you okay?? hey, what’s happening?” until you slowly come back to earth (after the fact you tease him a little for wigging out so much, but secretly you’re touched he cares just that much.) safe to say, the two of you don’t take it that far very often. 

seungkwan — seungkwan seems the type to be more gentle and doesn’t really like being mean to you, so it seems like it’d be rare. but maybe, like seokmin, he switches it up every now and then and the change in pace is so hot to you that you become more sensitive to his touch and his words. it leaves you feeling a little lightheaded, making it easier for you to slip into subspace. the first time it happens, seungkwan is a little stressed but lets you stay in it as long as you need to. when you come down he wants to talk about your triggers so he can be more prepared to keep you feeling as good as possible.

vernon — ever the silent support, vernon will stay with you the whole time, maybe petting your cheek or rubbing circles into your hips with his thumbs until you float back down to earth. he thinks it’s hot he can make you feel that good, but doesn’t ever want to yank you out of it, so he lets you feel what you need to for as long as possible. sometimes if it’s been a while, vernon will press a few kisses to your cheek and ask if you’re doing good. if you don’t respond he’ll leave you be, reminding you every once in a while he’s still here with you. once you come down he’s there with a few quiet praises and reminders how much he loves you. 

dino — likes knowing he can send you there. (a lot.) his favorite method is a combo of taunting and edging and watching you get completely lost in pleasure when he finally lets you come. chan looooves seeing you go all dumb, words jumbled as you tell him how good he makes you feel. unless you explicitly say it’s okay before a session, he’s not super keen on forcing you to do anything when you’re not entirely present in your head. the only thing chan loves more than making you feel amazing is taking care of you after, supplying you with plenty of attention and love to keep you warm.

--

come yell at me! tell me your fantasies and your fears!

other stuuuuff :P

[amazinglyashy]

Hello 👋 is it okay to make a request (if don't ignore this)

How would the LaDs men react if the player was like Spiderman (or just a superhero and the public obviously doesn't know their identity) and like they just right out figure it out and ask them abt it and then how would they daily life be like knowing this info ?

Thanks and love your writing btw!!!!!

You have my heart framing it in a way that includes Spider-Man <333 Loved him since I was like 11 LMAO I relate to him on a scary level, so you definitely got my attention there! Thank you for the request <33 I hope you enjoy!!

LaDS men react to finding out you moonlight as a hero in secret -

Rafayel -

He's absolutely offended.

Definitely thinks its a personal attack that you didn't tell him, regardless of your actual reasons for keeping it from him.

Initially, when he figures out what's going on, he does some investigating on his own without letting you know. Lord knows he's a master at digging up dirt, and his list of connections could span the globe.

So your secret isn't safe for long. at least from him.

He'll confront you immediately, and won't tell you how he figured out the information. He doesn't care if you're puzzled or perplexed at how boldly he's coming at you over a simple "hunch", but he does care that you haven't trusted him with this information.

Does he care about what you're doing? Yes, of course. He's worried you're going to hurt yourself, or worse, without him around to help you. And he'll voice as much to you when he first talks to you about your other identity.

He'll start showing up where he knows there's a particularly bad Wanderer attack, or a general major crime from humanity's own pitfalls. Any way he can help from the shadows, he'll find it and commit.

He's got your back, whether you like it or not.

Xavier -

He can't talk, and he knows it.

He knows if he did, he'd just hear about Lumiere all over again, and that's the last thing he wants.

Mutters something jealous about it under his breath when he confronts you about your alter ego, and all you can do is stand confused until he gets past whatever it is he's gotten worked up over.

He insists on helping you with it, even as you fire back at him about how overworked he already is usually- to the brink of falling asleep almost anywhere- he's pretty persistent.

Eventually will yield to your facts and logic, but he's not going to be happy to do so.

Will complain for days in little ways.

If there's every any kind of bootleg, unofficial, fan-made merchandise of you made, he's the first to snatch it up, however. Even if he was initially grumpy about it, he's always there to help you, support you, or just... cheer for you.

And hey, maybe you and Lumiere can take center stage together, one day.

Sylus -

Literally, you couldn't keep it a secret from him even if you tried with everything you had left in you.

He knew about it long before saying anything, or you having to admit to him. Heck, he knew before he even met you. He has his ways, and he knows how to use his informants to their full extent.

Sylus doesn't mind it at all, however. He enjoys making quips to you every time you leave and he knows you're going off to save the day again.

"You know, I already know you enjoy danger, sweetie. After all, you're dating me. You don't have to keep proving it with this little super act of yours. But, I'll humor you regardless, though."

Luke and Kieran are around usually, to help you if you need it or cheer for their favorite 'hero', much to your embarrassment. Sometimes you're left with just a robotic crow screaming at you from a nearby tree, confusing bystanders.

Occasionally though, you'll get a jump-scare from seeing Sylus himself standing off to the side. A little smirk on his face when he sees your expression.

He'll jump in and help you if needed, but otherwise-

He's just happy to see you shining brightly.

Zayne -

Honestly… He's probably not surprised.

He's known you forever, and he probably knows you the best out of everyone you're close to.

He knows your secrets, your personality to a T, how you react to situations- You having an alter ego that you use to help the public is definitely lower on the list of 'things that would surprise him about you'.

He'll make a passing comment to you related to a completely separate conversation implying that he knows, and you'll just have to accept it.

Not much changes in your day to day- he trusts you, he knows you can be a bit... overzealous, when it comes to helping people, but he also knows you have a pretty good head on your shoulders.

Still, if he sees you on the news as it's live and he doesn't have a patient... he'll be in his car heading your way at the drop of a hat.

He doesn't know how much he can help you with your work, especially since it's what you're good at, not him.

But at the very least, he can be present. For aid, to jump in front of you-

Even just to cheer you on.

[spdrwdw]

hi! I saw ur post abt accidentally deleting reqs and was scared since mine wasn’t answered yet (im not complaining bc ur other work is so so delicious to read 😍) anyways here it is. Ok imagine Miguel ohara being the heir to the mafia ‘throne(?)’ ima be so fr idk what they call it 💀 anyways and he’s in an arranged marriage w/ a girl from a diff mafia family as a way to make peace between the two families, except neither he or the girl are happy abt it. Enemies to lovers would just be majestic for the plot in my opinion 🤭. Anywaysssss thank u sm and remember to drink water 🫶🏻

Art by: Kimmy_art0912 Pairing: Mob Boss Miguel x Wife reader Warnings: Mentions of blood, very mild violence, no use of y/n Summary: You and Miguel come from different mafia families, forced to be married in order to form an alliance as threat from an outside. However, you and Miguel can only tolerate each other, at best. A/N: I swear I scratched and rewrote this like five different times.I am sorry it took so long. I am slowly making my way back into writing. I do thank anon and everyone else for their patience as I slowly make my way back to life and I will be writing more Miguel fics soon. I may do a part two to this, depending on interest recieved. I have been getting into mafia books so I am going to be looking into those for inspo if I do make more parts to this. Also, very very light editing was done. Word Count: 4.6k

Your family and the O’Hara’s have been enemies since your ancestors set foot into this country. Both immigrating from nothing but the clothes on their backs and pennies to their name. 

Your family started working in the food industry. Working in restaurants, bakeries, etc. Anything that had to do with food. Seven days a week. Working from twelve to fourteen hour shifts just to make ends meet. Your great great grandfather worked at the local deli as well as a restaurant. When he wasn’t cutting up meat, he was in the kitchen making food. Your great great grandmother worked at the neighborhood bakery as well as the tailors. Her dream was to make clothes- dresses. She wanted to be a fashion designer. She started taking classes at the local college once they saved up enough money to invest in her studies. 

Eventually, with their hard work and sacrifices, their dreams came true. Your family soon owned several restaurants as well as luxury boutiques. Everyone did their part in keeping the family businesses growing and going. 

At first, it was all simply honest work. Your family stayed humble and grateful for their dedication. Then, with your great grandfather, things took a slight turn. He wanted to expand and turn into construction. Nueva York continued to go and grow, with more people coming to try to make a living and a name for themselves. And in that mix, people with bad intentions also tagged along. The family businesses were in jeopardy of being taken over or shut down completely by these power-hungry thugs. He did not want that. So, he and the rest of the family banded together and began hiring people who would be willing to work for them and protect them, whether they were military vets, criminals, or even cops. Anyone who was willing to protect the family. 

Allyship with other mafia families also aided in the growth and protection. However, there was one family that yours always butted heads with. 

The O’Haras. They immigrated from Ireland around the same time your great great grandparents did. They built their own businesses, casinos, hotels, and clubs- and wanted their own power and a spot with the elites of the criminal world. 

At first, things were neutral between the two families. At one point, the two families were almost allies. However, one night, there was commotion going on at one of the O’Hara nightclubs. Members of your family got into a tussle with the O’Hara group and ended up being a blood bath, with both sides losing men. 

Ever since then, things were tense, and the bloodshed continued to grow as oppositions rose. 

No one really knew what it was that started the feud that night. Some suspected it had been over a woman. Others thought it was simply because some members were drunk and careless words were exchanged.

Either way, the rivalry continued on. Until a new threat entered the city. And there was no choice but to come together. 

—

It’s been six months since you moved into his house. Six months since you lost your freedom. Six months since you got married. To Miguel O’Hara. 

It all happened in an instant. First, you were out abroad, having recently gotten your first major job as a fashion designer in a luxury clothing company, wanting to be as successful as your great great grandmother, and now you were out on a little vacation to celebrate, when you received a call from your father, ordering you to come back home. 

You should’ve relished that Mediterranean breeze as long as you could, because once you got on that flight back home, your world was about to be flipped on its head. 

“I’m sorry…WHAT?!” You screeched at your father, you only looked at you with his calm, cool, distant, expression as he inhaled into his cigar.

“You’re getting married to Miguel O’Hara,” he repeated. 

“I heard what you said! But, why?!”

“The O’Haras had agreed to a truce. Kingpin is gaining on both of our families. We are losing men and traction left and right. We agreed by aligning our families together, we will gain strength in numbers and influence.”

“And you are shipping me off into an arranged marriage! This isn’t the medieval age or whatever! 

Plus, with Miguel?! At least have me marry Gabriel. He’s not an asshole like his brother.”

“Miguel is to become head of the O’Hara family as he is the first born. Plus, his determination has been promising.”

You let out a groan. You could not believe this was happening. You never wanted to get sucked into this life. That’s why you went off to college. To try to get away and make a life of your own. Your efforts were proven to be futile as you felt the rug be pulled from under you and you were being dragged along with it to the same life you were trying to escape. 

Your father’s eyes softened. A hint of sorrow filled them. 

“I know, sweetheart. This isn’t what I was hoping for you, either. But, it is the only way. We are running out of options. I am sure Miguel will take care of you, and you will be able to fulfill your dream of following your great great grandmother’s footsteps. I am sure she would be proud to have someone actively expanding her fashion legacy..”

You still shook your head. It was just too much for you to take in. Plus, wasn’t Miguel in a relationship with someone? Xina? No..they broke up months ago. That’s right. But, wait..he was seeing someone else? Ugh. The guy has a new girlfriend every other day.

Besides, you two did have a thing going on in the past. It wasn’t serious. Mainly the occasional hookups. You two were of rivaling families, after all. You both did have your reasons for disliking each other. So, the sex was pretty much hate sex? If that made sense. It wasn’t out of passion. Unless you could call hatred a passion.

Never did you think you’d actually be getting married to him. 

After the news broke out that you and Miguel were to be wedded, everything went by in such a blur. Preparations for the wedding. The actual wedding. The honeymoon- which was hardly a honeymoon because neither of you actually spent any time together. It was just too awkward, and you knew that he wasn’t happy with this arrangement as much as you were. 

When you first moved into his house, you wanted to sleep in a separate room from him, and he agreed. However, when both of your parents found out about this, they were all livid. 

“How will you two get to know each other more and become intimate with each other if you are sleeping in separate beds?” Your mom cried one day when she came to visit you. You assured her there would be other situations where you and your husband would bond. Public situations where you’d be surrounded by other people and talking to those people rather than each other. 

You two simply avoided each other as much as possible. And during the times when you two were together, your company was either met with silence or bickering. And sometimes even being at each other’s throats. 

He would call you names like ‘immature’ ‘wild’ ‘rowdy’ and so on, simply because you refused to listen to him whenever he demanded something from you. 

You’d retaliate and tell him that he was controlling and a perfectionist. Because well, he was. He had to have things done a certain way or it would ensue chaos. And while he was right about you being a little more rowdy and wild, it was simply because you had the luxury of growing somewhat more normal. Your parents did not drill the life of the mafia into your head the same way it was drilled into Miguel’s. Which is why you both clashed when trying to communicate with each other. 

Right now, you were at home in the library. You spend a lot of time there, and while Miguel’s taste in reading wasn’t usually to your taste, you’d sometimes find yourself reading some of the novels that he was currently reading, as well as reading some that you’ve been purchasing and adding to the collection. 

Which reminded you, you had to head over to the mall and purchase the next book of a spicy romance series you’d been reading. As well as look for an outfit to wear at the next charity event you and Miguel would be attending. 

One of the few things you liked about Miguel was that he was very generous and active in the community, helping those less fortunate.

Placing the book down, you rubbed your bag and keys and decided to head out for a bit. Saying goodbye to the house staff as you walked past them, you made your way to the garage, which housed Miguel’s collection of cars, ranging from vintage to sporty and modern to big black suvs that you’d use whenever a bodyguard was transporting you somewhere, like parties. You never understood why someone needed so many cars but, whatever, as long as it wasn’t your money being spent. 

You made your way over to your car, glad that you were able to bring it with you when you got married. It was your baby. One of the few things you were able to bring with you. 

Glancing over at the clock on the dashboard, you bit your bottom lip. You should have enough time to purchase some books before heading off to your parents for a bit. You did promise them you would show up. They were planning lunch for you. It was your birthday today, after all. 

—

Miguel stood in front of the battered man that kneeled before him, hearing the groaning of pain coming from their mouth as blood pooled around the cement floor. 

Miguel’s knuckles were bleeding. But, it wasn’t his own blood, but the blood of the poor bastard that withered before him. Miguel didn’t like to use violence. He thought it was a primitive way of negotiating with his enemies. However, there were times when a little violence was necessary to get his point across. And to send a message. 

Why was this man being battered like a sack of potatoes? 

The man spat blood, a tooth or two flying out with the glob of blood as he remained strapped to his chair. His face was covered in blood. Beat up and mangled by the hands of the tall, brooding man before him. 

Miguel slowly knelt down before the man, taking a fistful of his hair, forcing him to look up into his almost amber eyes. 

“ Eres un demonio! (You're a demon). Not even the devil himself will want you!” the man spat, a glob of blood landing on Miguel’s cheek.

Miguel let out a hum of disinterest. His eyes lacked any life in them. However, this was when he felt the most alive, seeing his enemies cowering and crumbling before him. 

He took out a handkerchief from his breast pocket and cleaned the blood from his cheek before tossing the now soiled material at the man’s feet. 

“I take that as a compliment, you know. Maybe I want the devil himself to fear me.”

Miguel took out a cigar from his coat pocket and lit it before giving it a deep inhale and exhaled a heavy cloud of smoke at the man’s face. He couldn't believe that one of Kingpin's goons had infiltrated his circle and posed himself as someone who could've been trusted. Miguel was definitely going to send that fat son of a bitch a message, by killing this guy and sending his corpse back to Kingpin's front door. 

Not only that, but it also meant that they were going to have to redo background checks on everyone working for the O’Haras. That was going to be a pain in the ass.

"Gabriel! Hand me my gun," Miguel called out to his brother.

Gabriel, Peter, and Ben were all standing several feet behind Miguel, all watching as their boss beat and battered the man before them. 

Gabriel was Miguel’s right hand now that their father had stepped down as head of the O’Hara family. Many thought Gabriel was going to take charge, however, Miguel was much more brutal and cut-throat than Gabriel. It made sense for Miguel to take up the mantle, despite him being an illegitimate son. 

Plus, Gabriel preferred being on the sidelines instead of making the decisions. 

Gabriel made his way over to his older brother, handing him the gun before stepping back to his original spot. 

“Now. We can do this the easy way. Where I ask you a couple of questions and answer them. Or, we can do this the hard way, when I ask you said questions and if you refuse to answer them, I get to shoot you anywhere I want.”

”I would rather you just shoot me! I will never answer to you!” The man croaked. 

“You never got shot before, have you?” Miguel hummed as he removed the safety from the gun and cocked it before pulling the trigger, shooting the man on the foot. 

The man let out a screeching howl as he thrashed on the chair, letting out a series of curses. 

Miguel simply nodded his head. “That’s what I thought. So..shall we begin?”

The whole ordeal took only a matter of minutes, as Miguel wasted no time in trying to get his questions answered. The man was not sitting lifeless on the chair as bullet holes decorated his body. 

Kingpin had sent a lower ranked grunt to spy on them, trying to scope up any valuable information to report back to his true boss. Unfortunately for Kingpin, those in the lower ranks didn’t really get to be part of the action and behind-closed door discussions, so, this man’s life was unnecessarily wasted. 

“Send his body back to Kingpin. Just leave him on his doorstep,” Miguel said as he examined his suit, letting out a grunt when he saw small splatters of blood. He was going to have to go home and change. “Will do. You should start heading back home. I am sure you wife is waiting for you,” Gabriel said as Peter and Ben began placing the body into a black body bag and carried him out to the waiting pick-up truck. 

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t hate you, but he knew that you hated him. And you had every right. You got married to him out of force, and while that wasn’t necessarily his fault, he didn’t blame you for holding a grudge on him. 

“Keep me posted on any activity. I need updated background checks on everyone working for us. We can’t let anyone else slip through the cracks,” Miguel stated as he made his way over to his car, with his brother following behind him. Gabriel nodded his head as he watched his brother leave. 

He had to make sure no on in his inner circle was actually working for Kingpin. Is someone indeed was, might as well just shut everything down then and there. 

No. Miguel wouldn’t give up just like that. He would just have to work harder and steer Kingpin off track. 

But, for the time being, his main goal was to get back home and get to his wife. It was your birthday, after all.

–

You spent the majority of the day with your parents. You had gone over to your former home- which you still miss deeply. It was such a stark contrast from where you lived now. There was just so much character, so much history in this house. It was the same house your great great grandfather had bought as a gift to his lovely wife, your great great grandmother, once their businesses were booming.

It had twelve bedrooms and sixteen bathrooms. A library where your mother would take you to read. When you were young, you’d pick out a book for your mother to read to you in bed. Mainly a fairy tale story. 

You always thought your life would be a fairy tale. You always imagined yourself as the princess or heroine, going on adventures and falling in love. However, the universe was not like those in the stories. Maybe in an alternate universe. But, not in this one. 

Instead, you were forced to marry the enemy in hopes of forming an alliance. Which, depending on how you looked at it, could’ve been seen as a fairytale. It didn’t feel like it. You weren’t in love with Miguel. You tolerated each other at best. Plus, you guys had shared history which made things pretty awkward at times. 

—-

You were back home, waiting for your darling husband to come home and wish you a Happy Birthday. He also supposedly promised to take you out to dinner. It was really an attempt for you two to get somewhat closer together. But, you weren’t sure how well that would play out. You both liked to push each other’s buttons. You were sure it would occur tonight. And honestly, you wouldn’t want to have it any other way. You wanted to be a thorn on his side. He was always so full of himself. Always thought himself to be this bigshot. Untouchable. Unweavered. You loved proving him wrong. 

You continued to wait and wait. The house staff had left for the night, including Miss Cheryl, your personally favorite housekeeper. She was an older woman, possibly in her mid-fifties. You never cared to ask her- mainly because you didn’t want to be rude and you actually liked her. 

Looking up at the clock in Miguel’s office, you saw that it was already seven thirty in the evening. Reservations were supposedly made for eight. Miguel had thirty minutes to get there. 

A part of you didn’t really care if he had forgotten or just waved it off. You didn’t want to force yourself to be nice with him, because who knew, you might just throw a glass of wine at him just as you did during your wedding reception.

You could hear a chime coming from the Alexa that rested on Miguel’s desk, signaling that someone had entered the house. 

Finally. You honestly thought he wasn’t going to come. 

Raising from his chair, you decided to go ahead and greet your husband. 

He was making his way upstairs as you made your way down the hallway, both of you making eye contact. 

“You’re late. I thought you weren’t going to come,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. 

As Miguel stepped closer, you could notice blood splattered on his white shirt. 

“I know. Let me get changed real quick,” he replied as he walked past you. 

You knew Miguel had a way of dealing with those who wronged him. You have seen his blood-stained knuckles, bloodied shirts and a dangerous look in his eyes. It’s pretty much like in the movies. Some poor unlucky soul gets tortured to death by the boss or someone higher up. You’d like to think that Miguel isn’t simply killing people just because of blood-lust. While it wasn’t your business to judge, you didn’t want to be married to someone who is a little too eager to get blood on his hands. 

You made your way to his room, standing by the door as you watched Miguel slip on a fresh pair of pants and button-up shirt, something more suitable for dinner. Once he was finished, he took another look at you, furrowing his brows a bit. 

“What?” You questioned. 

“What are you wearing?” 

“What do you mean ‘what are you wearing’?” You asked, looking down at your dress. 

“Don’t you think that’s too revealing?” He asked. 

“What? Revealing? Where? Don’t tell me showing a little leg and shoulder is prohibited. Come on! This is the height of fashion right now, as well as demonstrating body positivity.” Miguel simply gave you a look as if in disgust. Not for the body positivity part. But rather your fashion choices. He was aware of your family’s success in the fashion industry. He even applauded it. But, he was also a  man with much simpler tastes. Tastes that you would sometimes groan over. 

“Well, I’m not changing, so let’s just get going,” you said as you grabbed a shawl to compliment your dress, and to shut Miguel up. 

The ride to the restaurant was quiet, save for the music that was playing on the radio. You two had very different music tastes. Not surprising. Sometimes you’d change the station or hook up your phone to Bluetooth. But, you tried to sit back and let him listen to his music this time. 

When you two managed to get there, Miguel stopped in front of the valet and got out. The valet driver in-waiting opened the car door for you to help you get out as Miguel rounded the car, handing the keys over to the young man who then took the sleek black suv to the parking garage. 

He gave you his arm to take. It had become routine. Show some sort of display of affection while in public. You never knew who could be watching. Sometimes cameras would pop out in front of you two. 

The proposal was rushed. The engagement. The wedding. People grew suspicious, and rightfully so. Your families quickly came up with a story of how you and Miguel were seeing each other in secret despite the rivalry of the families. The alleged secrecy of romance and hurried marriage gave you two the the title of Romeo and Juliet. Two star-crossed lovers who went against all odds just to be together despite your families and their differences. But, unlike the story, your ending didn’t result in a double-suicide, but rather acceptance, wedding bells, and peace between the two families. Everyone bought it. Well..almost everyone. 

As you two made your way inside and were greeted by the hostess, you were taken to a more secluded area of the restaurant. There, the table had been set up especially for you. A bottle of wine rested over a bed of ice, candles were lit on the table, as well as around the perimeter of your area. It would have been romantic, had you actually had romantic feelings for Miguel.

Still, he was a gentleman and he did go out of his way to reserve a nice place for you.

 He pulled a chair out for you to sit and scooted you in before taking his seat across from you. The music from a live pianist in the main dining hall still reached your private area. Had it not been for them, the room would’ve been dead silent as you and Miguel silently looked through your menus. 

“Can I pour you a glass of your wine?” A waitress asked onceshe approached your table. She was young. Tall and thin with big blue eyes and blonde hair tied up in a ponytail. And wearing way too much makeup. At least for your tastes. 

You could see how she was looking at Miguel, batting her fake eyelashes. You thought they were either going to fall off or send her flying away. Either way, you simply rolled your eyes. You didn’t care if Miguel got hit on, but come on, at least not while you were right there to see. 

“Yes, thank you,” Miguel said, giving her a charming smile. It made you roll our eyes again. Yes, he was being polite and all, but you could see right through him. 

“Can I offer you both an appetizer to start?” She then asked, still looking over at Miguel. 

Miguel then looked over to you, giving you a nod. “Would you like something to start with?”

”Yes, actually. Some bread for the table. they usually bring it out at the beginning,” you started. Which was true. You were just trying to be a little petty. 

“And how about some crab cakes and a salad for the table?”

The waitress nodded her head, her smile now a straight line. So straight, you could swipe your card through it like a card reader. 

“Yes, of course. I will put those in for you and bring you your bread,” she said before leaving the table. 

You simply rolled your eyes once again as you settled back against your seat. 

“How was lunch with your family?” Miguel then asked, trying to make conversation. 

“It was fine,” you responded. Usually, your responses would be short, and Miguel wouldn’t entertain the topic further. You knew you should at least try to get along with him, giving that you are married and that you will be spending the rest of your life with him. You simply assumed that it just hadn’t kicked in yet. You were going to try, though. 

One day.

“Ah, Mr. O’Hara! Mrs. O’Hara! A pleasure to see you two here tonight!” Someone behind you exclaimed. You could hear their heavy footsteps before turning around and seeing the owner and head chef of the restaurant. “Javier. A pleasure to see you,” Miguel said. “We were just celebrating my wife’s birthday.” “Ah! Of course! Happy birthday, Mrs. O’Hara. You look as stunning as ever,” Javier exclaimed. The man was five foot three, a mix of tan to sunburned skin, and all round. He kind of reminded you of the Pillsbury mascot. He looked so squishable and jolly. 

“Actually, Javier. Would you mind me having a word with you, real quick?” Miguel then asked, scooted his chair back from the table and stood, easily towering over the man. 

“O-oh! O-of cours! Of course! Come, come! Let’s step to the side,” Javier stated, now looking a little nervous as he led Miguel out of the room, leaving you alone. 

All while Miguel was having his private conversation with Javier, the waitress came back with the bread and appetizers. 

“We are going to need a couple of minutes,” you stated as she placed everything onto the tables. 

“Of course! I’ll make my way back around in a few minutes,” the waitress said, giving you a tight-lipped smile.  

You tried your best to not roll your eyes at her again as she left. Letting out a sigh, you decided to dig into the bread and appetizers. You sure weren’t going to wait for Miguel to come back to start eating. You never waited for him. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you knew you’d be waiting forever for him. 

–

Soon enough, you were back home. You were still slightly curious about the conversation Miguel had with Chef Javier. But, you didn’t think you should press Miguel about it. Some things were meant to be kept in private. Besides, you wanted no part of this whole mafia stuff. It had stolen so much of your freedom already. You wanted to remain ignorant of what goes on behind closed doors as much as possible. 

You both made your way upstairs, neither of you speaking as you made your way to your rooms for the night. 

Tomorrow you were planning on heading over to the boutique. Your cousin was currently operating it and sometimes you’d go to help her out. It helped you get out of the house every once in a while. Plus, you were usually filled with inspiration when you were surrounded by your family’s clothing. You were still working on your portfolio to give out to various companies, in hopes they would hire you. 

You were confident that they would. You were talented. Plus, you have your family’s name to back you up. Now, all you had to do was to make sure you get a good night’s rest so you could get up refreshed. 

[slut4sugu]

𝐄!𝟒𝟐 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐁𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

Prowler Miles x shy Fem!Black Reader

Including: aged up!characters, sweet yet flirty miles, use of nicknames/pet names: mami, ma, doll, baby, princesa, uncle Aron being funny, overprotective miles, use of Spanish

🎸: 𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐦- 𝐉𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐚𝐡 𝐟𝐭. 𝐘𝐆

FIRST WEEKS DATING

Makes sure your okay and comfortable 24/7, he might look scary but nonetheless he always makes sure your safe.

Always picks up on the 2nd ring when you call him, no matter what time of day (unless when he’s out being the prowler) he always picks up even if its just you calling because you can’t sleep.

Gives you self defense weapons, he almost laughs when he sees you holding a heavy Bo-staff making you pout slightly before he eases up on the teasing and just gives you a taser an alarm.

Tells you to not be out late at night without letting him know (so he can avoid that area)

Acts as your guard dog whenever you two go out, making sure that whenever you step into a place people know your with him

When you finally sat down with Miles’s mom and Uncle for dinner, Rio was happy to see that you spoke Spanish as well. (And of course you called her Ms.Morales)

Uncle Aron winked at Miles when he told everyone he was happy he brought home, ‘A pinky pie.’ Which made him roll his eyes, before discreetly holding your hand from under the table.

Teaches you a bit of self defense which then led to him pinning you to the wall, and your first kiss. Which was shortly ended by Aron, who interrupted the kiss to remind miles to pay up for losing a bet. (Aron said that miles was soo whipped for you that he couldn’t go a month without kissing you, which an defensive miles denies. Which started the bet that he inevitably lost)

Doesn’t tell you he’s the prowler unless you find out, besides that he waits to tell you until wayy later.

FIRST COUPLE MONTHS

Gets more comfortable with you, starts calling you his girl more openly

Becomes more soft around you: Starts pulling you into hugs randomly and kisses for no reason, kissing your knuckles when your first waking up.

Like hobie he has to be touching you in some type of way, if you both have a sleepover or he falls asleep while hanging out with you, his arm has to be around your waist/ holding your hand. He feels more comfortable knowing that your locked in his hold.

Very very very light sleeper, since yk prowler biz and all. If your trying to creep out of bed in the middle of the night forget abt it, the slightest feeling of you leaving his grasp wakes him up. And you’re met with a, “What you doin doll?”

Leaves his hoodies and shirts at your place when he’s out being the prowler, he knows you like wearing his clothes especially the smell of the expensive cologne on them, and he loves seeing you in them when he inevitably comes back to check up on you.

SPOILS TF OUTTA YOU, little did you know he was making bank in his line of work, until you started to notice the one to many expensive gifts he would buy you almost daily. Whether it be a necklace you told your boyfriend you would ‘die for’ that you magically saw on your bed the next afternoon, or some red bottoms heels that you saw in a store window.

“Ve a divertirte, princesa, y muéstrame lo que compraste cuando vuelva.” (Go have fun princess and show me what you bought when i get back)

Eventually you asked how he’s getting the money for all of these things, and thats when he sat you down and told you everything. You were shocked at first but it made sense, you told him you would always love him regardless of what he did, as long as he didn’t get too hurt. Which made him chuckle before stating, “Mami, I never get hurt. Don’t worry about me, now get ready I’m taking you out in an hour.”

He loves spending money on you mainly because you look good in anything you try on, whether it be dresses, heels, skirts, whatever it is. As soon as he sees you in it consider it sold.

4+ MONTHS

Finally says ‘I love you’

Those three little words aren’t something that miles says a lot, so when he said them to you one lazy afternoon while you were snuggled into his side, your eyes widened and you sat up to look at him. “You love me?” Humming in response, you quickly sat on his lap before wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him. Your face buried into his neck.

“I love you too amor.”

After that day, you became wifey in his head.

Though keeping his stoic demeanor you could tell he changed a little after that, being more meaningful with his kisses and hugs.

he became a little bit more overprotective in the process but you reassured him that you’d be safe and always wold tell him whenever your going somewhere.

Bought you a promise ring on your anniversary </3 (it was very nice for a promise ring, it almost looked like a wedding ring but miles said your wedding ring would be much nicer </333

He gave you a credit card with ALOT of money n it, he hardly wanted you to use your own money so you had almost 20K+ saved on your cards because of it. (Mind you he paid for ALLL of your expenses: Cars, apartment, student loan, etc.)

Uncle Aron started to realize how much miles loved you and started to give miles a little little bit more time with you. Which was greatly appreciated by the both of you.

Overall you were wifey from the start </3

[heartz4levi]

HIIIII ILOVE UR WRITING SM OML I CANNOT THANK U ENOUGH... just a suggestion but would u be interested in doing a ivan x reader nsfw alphabet?? preferably fem reader or gn,, if thats okay!! Have a great day/ night <3

can't find, my all, your soul, i need !

☆ thinking abt ivan + nsfw alphabet . . .

☆ ivan (alnst) ,, fem reader . . the dom/sub dynamic switches at random intervals ,, guess what i'm doing.. pushing the freak ivan agenda ,, lots of sex talk ,, lots of kink talk also.

a — aftercare :

absolute king of pillow talk. will clean the both of you up, provide food and water is needed, the bare minimum really.

but the pillow talk is unmatched. the gossip goes crazy, whether ivan is the one delivering the news or is the one listening to the latest drama you've heard.

b — body part :

ivan likes his eyes. there's a certain mischievous charm in them, one that's hard to replicate, which only adds on to how much he appreicated them.

not a body part, but ivan adores your smile. he can't pick just one part of your body that he loves more than the rest, but something that enchants him a considerable amount is your smile, something he strives to keep on your face for as long as possible.

c — cum :

ivan's cum is thick and sticky. the taste doesn't have any particularly dominating note to it.

always coming in fat globs, ivan likes to paint either your tongue or your cunt white. not the inside. he likes cumming inside too, of course, but there's something about tainting your body with his cum that gets him going, in an odd way.

d — dirty secret :

not really a secret since he did bring the idea up before. ivan is curious and really wants to know how it'd feel like to be used by you.

he's talking toying with him for your own pleasure, unleashing a never before seen sadistic side, torturing him sexually and not showing even an ounce of care for his personal needs.

e — experience :

not a virgin, but also not a total whore.

ivan has slept with a few people before, just enough to know what he's doing by the time he ends up in your bed. and he's well—versed in a lot of kinks, considering how experimental he is.

f — favourite position :

ivan likes to fold you in some of the most foul positions, but doggystyle takes the cake. a certain kind of doggy though.

yeah, the generic doggystyle position is good, but he likes it best when there's a mirror and you're facing it, staring at your own fucked—out expression. always ends up pulling you up, your back flush against his chest to reach even deeper inside of you.

g — goofy :

ivan is never completely serious during sex, but he isn't actively trying to make you laugh either. he's more so just actively teasing you.

however he'd be quite amused if you tried making him laugh mid—sex, as if he wasn't literally going to town on your poor cunt.

h — hair :

nicely groomed. is not against the idea of waxing, but doesn't feel obligated to do it.

as for his partner, ivan just wants someone who prioritizes their hygiene, doesn't mean that your pussy has to be completely bare. fuck it, let it grow out, so long as it's not contagious he'll still hit.

i — intimacy :

can be very, very romantic at times.

but, being the versatile man he is, ivan can also treat you as if you're nothing but a sex toy. however a small part, deep down inside of him, yearns to be gentle. to love you, to worship you, to handle you like you're a sacred treasure.

top tier deep, slow strokes.

j — jack off :

ivan jacks off a regular amount. doesn't practice abstinence but doesn't get off to something every day.

he likes to prolong his sessions though, edging himself on purpose and making it all the more painful so that the eventual climax he will have will make him ascend spiritually.

k — kink :

a whole entourage of kinks. is into so many things, more than you can count on two hands.

ivan does quite like bondage tho and isn't aversed to being tied up himself. he likes the feeling of helplessness that comes with being restrained but takes just as much pleasure in the sensation of control that comes with having you tied up, at his mercy.

l — location :

like previously mentioned, a total freak. ivan is open to taking you during any time of day, at any location.

in public? sure, let the people nearby watch. in a secluded alley? sure, don't cover your mouth though. at home? has bent you over every existing surface.

m — motivation :

ivan enjoys playful banter with you. he encourages you to engage in it with him, to not be afraid of some unserious bickering.

sass—mouthing is a completely different thing. he still encourages it, just not as blatantly. he subtly adds fuel to the fire that is your sassiness, wanting you to strike the right nerve that'll allow him to put you in your rightful place.

n — no :

ivan likes boasting to others, speaks your praises in the midst of conversations with friends and acquaintances, shows you off at every given opportunity.

but ivan isn't fond of sharing. not because he's possessive, but because he doesn't want your eyes to wander elsewhere, as he is afraid that one slip—up on his part will be enough for you to lose interest in him.

o — oral :

absolute beast at oral. knows how to put that tongue to use like no other. it takes such a long time for his jaw to start hurting and even then he keeps going.

ivan is quite fond of receiving oral too. he doesn't have a favourite when it comes to giving or receiving, but the sight of you on your knees, taking all of him into your mouth while slick begins to coat your thighs definitely awakens something with him.

p — pace :

ivan's default pace always manages to knock all of the air in your lungs right out. he gives you plenty of time to adjust to the stretch of his cock, starts out slow at first, but before you know it he's already jackhammering into your cunt.

try to keep up with him, you can't. however it will be entertaining for him to watch you try and meet his thrusts halfway, ultimately giving up once you realize that your efforts are useless.

q — quickie :

always scowls at the mentions of quickies. but it's not like he can really take his time in public or semi—public spaces, no?

technically he can, but.. yeah, no. prefers to slowly pick you apart piece by piece, dumbing you down with each orgasm that washes over you.

r — risk :

his freak tendencies go hand in hand with the love he has for taking a good risk. ivan simply cannot deny a rush of adrenaline, the overwhelming thrill that courses through his body each time he makes a questionable decision.

s — stamina :

ivan has good stamina. not including foreplay, he can go for about four rounds before his stamina starts to deplete.

sometimes though, maybe on particularly stressful days or when he's a lot needier for you, could go at it until the sun rises. not even exaggerating.

t — toys :

ivan does actually own a few toys. he likes using them on himself and is always open to trying new ones.

similarly to how he likes to use them on you, as well. started off with the classic vibrator and ball gag, will ask you to try sounding with him when you get more used to implementing toys in the bedroom experience.

u — unfair :

such a tease it's unbearable. takes pleasure in bullying you to see the plethora of emotions that swirl within your eyes, enjoys controlling your orgasms to watch you thrash around whenever he denies you of yet another one.

v — volume :

ivan is vocal and not afraid to hide a single sound that comes out of his mouth.

moans and whines. moans. if it's not right in your ear, then it's loud and lewd enough for the neighbors to hear.

w — wild card :

at some point you can't pinpoint the exact start of after becoming sexually active with ivan, nothing surprised you anymore when it came to sex.

ivan as a whole is a wild card. are you surprised? no. you've gotten used to him and his interesting preferences by now. as you should!

x — xray :

ivan's cock is long, a little thick. veiny and it curves a tad. the head always leaks so much pre whenever he's really aroused.

if you tease him, you will feel his cock twitch and/or jump. palm him through his pants and you'll feel his cock straining against the fabric, slap it and watch little spurts of cum ooze out of the tip.

y — yearning :

ivan is pretty much always down to get into your pants.

that doesn't mean he's constantly asking to have sex, it just means that he rarely ever denies you. his self—restraint is surprisingly good.

z — zzz :

never falls asleep before you do. the pillow talk keeps him up, not in the haunting him long after you've dozed off way, but in the he's so invested he needs to know more asap way.

[lxkeee]

BEGGING FOR A LUCIFER X FEM!READER SMUT ABT HIM EATING READER OUT AFTER SEEING HIM DO THAT GESTURE AT THE LAST EP PLSSSS 🛐🛐🛐🛐 would do anything for that man omfg I'D KILL FOR HIM TO CALL ME GOOD GIRL

genre: plot with some smut ig

warnings: cunnilingus, oral (fem receiving), soft dom! Lucifer, thigh marking, praising (both receiving), pet names (love, darling, sweetheart), whiney Lucifer.

notes: I don't do porn without plot so yes... There's a little bit of plot to this 💀 it is quite long as they're not having sex but making love soo you better bet he's going to take his time with herr... This one is hella long btw.

additional notes: banners are made by cafekitsune, reader wears gloves and I can't explain what kind but the kind Child/tartaglia wears from genshin impact. Also, I don't know if this will be good as it's been a long time since I've written smut 💀

tags: @adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkitten (I can't tag you </3) @brithedemonspawn @dinawss @froggybich

“Good luck kiddo.” Lucifer said to his daughter before eventually slowly teleporting away from the hotel and back to the palace. His body manifested on the arm chair that's in his room and his shoulders sagged a bit. A heavy sigh left his lips.

“She grew up so fast but I still can't help but get worried...” he muttered underneath his breath as his eyes gazed upon the hanged picture frame of Charlie. Removing his hat from his head and placed in ton the table then his eyes slowly gazed into the framed picture that was on the table it was him and his new lover, [y/n]. He gave himself a second chance at love and he met [y/n], the only sinner that he actually likes being around with. Despite her mysterious yet charming personality, [y/n] is a nice woman, very patient and understanding. Although, there are moments his heart would yearn for his ex-wife, Lilith during his relationship with [y/n] but surprisingly [y/n] herself is very understanding, she understands that he cannot immediately and completely erase a love that lasted for so many years and with that, he is grateful for [y/n] and with that he always reassure her that he loves her and is happy with her. Though, right now, he is completely missing her as she's currently away for a week due to her status as an overlord. Despite [y/n] being an overlord, she didn't become one because of cruelty but many sinners would want to work under her as she treats her souls with care, providing a roof under their head, food, medicine, and protection as long as they follow her orders. [Y/n] didn't really specify how long she'll be gone as there are important matters to deal with but she promised that it won't take two weeks. She reassures him and vice versa.

“Oh [y/n], I've missed you.” Lucifer says to himself, shaking his head with a small toothy grin on his face that shows off his perfectly white sharp teeth. The circles of his cheeks turning a darker shade of red as he thinks about her. He sighs longingly as he squeezes a rubber duck that looks like her, the small rubber toy making a loud 'squeak' sound.

He didn't realize it as the arm chair was facing the opposite direction of his door, he didn't notice the said woman arrived awhile ago and decided to surprise him and opened the door without any sound. [Y/n] grins as she watches the man she loves plays with his rubber duck, her body leaning against the doorframe and her arms crossed over her chest.

“[y/n] come back soon, I need your insights on whether my decision of allowing Charlie a meeting with heaven was a great idea.” Lucifer whines to himself as he talks to the rubber duck version of [y/n].

This caught the woman's attention, [y/n] has met Charlie and she absolutely loved the girl. She heard that Charlie's opening a hotel that redeems sinners, she saw it on the TV and she honestly found it funny how she fought the TV host. She supports her cause but [y/n] thinks she wouldn't be joining it, not because she doesn't believe it will work but she doesn't want to leave Lucifer alone.

[y/n] let out a silent sigh as she continues to listen to her lover ramble to the rubber duck version of her, “If only you could see how motivated she is, love. I couldn't say no and I am afraid they'll crush her dreams like they crushed mine.” he says softly, his voice dull as he recalled what happened to him when he had so much hope and dreams for his people.

“I am sure Charlie would be fine, she's an amazing kid and she has an amazing father who will support her.” [y/n] says with a small smile, finally announcing her arrival. Lucifer slightly jumped from his seat from hearing her voice, turning around quickly to see his beloved leaning against the doorframe with her arms over her chest, the black suit she was wearing hugged her figure perfectly, the red tie adding a pop of color to her outfit. She looked gorgeous, she always does.

His eyes widened before a smile finally found its way back to his gorgeous face, “[y/n]! You're back!” he exclaimed, jumping out of his seat and quickly running towards her. [Y/n] chuckles as she moves away from the door, spreading her arms open for a hug—only for Lucifer to hug her and dip her, the action causing her to place her hands behind his neck for support and his actions caught her off guard when he finally kisses her.

The lovers stayed in that position, Lucifer supporting her weight as he held her waist while in the dipping position. Her hands behind his neck, playing with his light blond locks, causing the man to groan against her lips. Sharp teeth occasionally clash as they kiss, two weeks apart made them yearn for each other.

Lucifer's lips slowly moved away from her lips making [y/n] whine softly as he began to kiss the side of her lips, her jawline, and then her neck. Wet sounds of his kisses fills the room, along with [y/n]'s whimpers as she felt the devil himself began to mark her flawless neck with his hickies. Lucifer gave her a smirk before placing a gentle kiss on the newly made mark he just made on her neck.

“Welcome back, love.” he says softly, looking down at her flushed features. Admiring her as he held her in a dipping position. [Y/n] chuckles softly, her cheeks warm and red after the passionate kiss, “Oh, Lucifer... You always know how to make me swoon.” she mutters and he laughs, his laugh is like a gentle breeze that calms you down, so soft. His cheeks are turning a light shade of pink, “Well, it's a natural thing I can do when it comes to you.” he says with a chuckle before eventually helping her stand properly, making her chuckle softly.

“Aren't you romantic today?” [y/n] says with a small laugh escaping her lips, he could listen to her laugh all day and not get tired of hearing it. Lucifer smirked before softly holding her hand, bowing to place a gentle kiss on her knuckle, “I just missed you, that's all. I haven't seen you for almost two weeks.” he says before the hand that was holding her hand slowly glides across her arm, reaching her chest by her tie and then gently tugging her tie downwards so he could reach her face, “And we have a lot of catching up to do, my love.” he says with a smirk, making [y/n] blush slightly at the action and from the tone of his voice, “Indeed we do...” she replied with a suggestive tone and eventually closed her eyes as Lucifer presses his lips against hers, tugging her tie to lower her more and turn the kiss deeper. [Y/n] chuckles against the kiss, parting away from him for a few moments as a smirk finds its way to her lips, “My... Someone's eager...” [y/n] says teasingly making Lucifer blush slightly and pouted, “Don't blame me, I have truly and deeply missed you.” he says before slowly intertwining his hand with hers, pulling her towards his bed and [y/n] complied with a smirk, deciding not to tease him further. She wants him and he wants her. It's been so long since they've last touched each other. They needed this.

Lucifer gently pushed her down into his bed, [y/n] landing on the soft mattress on her back with a soft 'thud.' Lucifer followed soon after, climbing on top of her, his hand caressing her jawline while his other hand supporting his body weight. They stared at each other, eyes dilated and filled with love and adoration for each other. [Y/n] shudders a little as she feels the soft material of his gloves against her skin, her eyes looking up at him, admiring his beautiful features—the red aesthetic of his room making his light blond hair and pale skin pop, complimenting his beautiful ruby colored eyes, sharp jawline, pearly white sharp teeth, so angelic yet sinful, “You are so beautiful...” she murmurs softly and she swore his eyes dilated more before his hand moved back to her tie and gently tugged her upwards so their lips pressed against one another once more.

Mouths moved against each other, soft whimpers leaving their lips as they tried to match the other's pace. Lucifer groans softly as he feels her fingers combed through his slicked back hair, making it messy but he doesn't mind. He can taste the cherry flavor of her lipstick as he kisses her, the taste of her making his mind swirl, “Fuck... I can't get enough of you...” he groans softly as he gently bites her lower lip, asking for permission in which she obliges, parting her lips slightly to allow him to slip his tongue inside.

[y/n] moans softly, fueling his passion for her. Sharp teeth clash against each other as they lose themselves in the moment. [Y/n]'s hand slowly found its way to his, intertwining her hand with his own. Lucifer squeezes her hand as he continues to kiss her, savoring the sensation of her lips against his and his tongue exploring her mouth.

Her other hand is exploring his body, caressing his chest through his suit, making him shudder slightly. Lucifer's kisses once more moved away from her lips, moving downwards from her jawline to her neck, placing a gentle kiss on the previous hickey he made awhile ago before gently pulling her arm that had her hand that he was squeezing, bringing her hand to his lips and gently bit the end of her gloves with his teeth to pull her glove down. [Y/n] gulped from the action, her body heating up from how attractive he is. Fuck... Why is he so hot?

“You're such a tease...” she mutters softly with a pout making him laugh as he holds her other arm and does the same thing to her other glove, biting it down to remove it before throwing the gloves somewhere out of the bed, “But you love it, don't you?” he asked teasingly with a smirk and she sighs softly with a smile, “I do, I really do.”

“You better say those exact words to me one day but that time, it better be when I'm kneeling down in one knee.” he says teasingly making the girl blush and groan softly and nodded, “that's my girl... Now, how about we take these off as it is in the way hmm?” he asked as his finger traced her chest, running across her suit, a silent question for her consent and she nodded.

Lucifer began to loosen her tie, throwing the red fabric across the room before he began to unbutton her top. Revealing her lacy black bra underneath, fitting her breasts perfectly. Ah fuck, she's so gorgeous...

Removing the black fabric off her figure, finally showing off her torso. [Y/n] did the same to his suit, helping her remove his clothes as he could feel the heat of his skin beginning to heat up more.

Slowly and surely, one by one their clothes were removed. Leaving them naked for each other's eyes. Both Lucifer and [y/n] had to avoid each other's eyes as they felt shy, it has been awhile since they've done something so intimate.

[y/n] slowly moved her eyes back on him, admiring Lucifer's bare figure—hair messy, cheeks red, eyes shy and avoiding, beautifully handsome face and body—clearly sculpted by God. She allowed her hand to graze at his arm up to his jawline, holding his chin gently and then slowly tilt his head back so he's now once more looking at her.

Lucifer's breath hitched as his eyes finally landed on her, [y/n] looked so beautiful—her hair sprawled behind her, her [h/c] complimenting her gorgeous face, half-lidded [e/c] eyes and dilated pupils looking at him with so much need and adoration, plump lips that he oh so wanted to desperately kiss all the time, her body most especially... He just wants to leave kisses all over it.

“You're so beautiful, I can't believe you're mine.” Lucifer whispers softly with his cheeks flushed while he was above her, his arms supporting his weight. [Y/n] blushed and chuckled, “You tell me that everyday, love.” [y/n] says with a small smile and Lucifer can only chuckle, “It's because I want to,” he says with a small smile, pausing a bit, “I want to remind you everyday, that my love and adoration for you will never change and I am grateful that I've met you.” he says softly, his voice gentle and vulnerable as he expresses his love for her, his hand caressing her cheek. [Y/n]'s blush turned into a deeper shade of red as she listened to his confession, a small and flustered smile on her face as she intertwined her hand with his once more, “With that, I am eternally grateful that you chose me, for loving me and with that I would love you till the end of time.” she says softly, Lucifer can only smile—the same dorky smile you always loved seeing on his face.

Lucifer leans down so he can kiss her again, [y/n] instinctively snaking her as arms behind his neck—pulling him deeper into the kiss. Their kiss was needy, fiery, passionate yet gentle, soft moans and whimpers escaping past their lips. I love you's being muttered occasionally between them and against each other's soft lips. Occasionally, Lucifer would let out a small whine as [y/n] began to stroke his cock while they were kissing, his whines were music to her ears, “Y-yes... That feels amazing...” he whimpered softly against her lips, his hips thrusting against her hand for more friction. She could feel how hard he is for her, she can feel the veins running from base to the tip, she can feel the precum staining her hands.

Lucifer's kisses once more slowly went down—to her jawline, neck, collarbone and finally on her chest. He looked up at her, his eyes needy and dark with desire and love for her before he finally took one nipple into his mouth, suckling and swirling his long tongue around the sensitive nub while his other hand played with her other breast.

Whimpers and whines left [y/n]'s lips as her hand moves away from his cock and squeezes the pillows, Lucifer really knows how to pleasure her, her other hand running through his hair and massaging his scalp while he moves to her other breast.

“Luci... Mhmm... That feels so good...” she softly moans out and Lucifer feels a sense of pride from hearing that, his mouth continues to suckle on her left breast before eventually releasing it with a small 'pop.'

Lucifer's eyes went back to gaze on her face—disheveled, flustered, and cute.

“So utterly beautiful...” he murmured before moving his body downwards as he finally reached her legs, “Spread your legs for me, love.” he asked with a small teasing smirk, enjoying the flustered look on her face. [Y/n] obediently followed and shyly spreads her legs for him, avoiding his gaze.

Lucifer smirked as [y/n] spread her legs for him, his eyes turning into slits as he saw how turned on she was and how much she needed him, “Good girl.” he praises, his voice teasing, “Only for you.” [y/n] replies with a smirk of her own.

“You better be...” Lucifer says with a chuckle as he begins to kiss her thighs, leaving hickies while his hands squeeze the softness of her flesh, his lips slowly going up and dangerously near her womanhood. Looking up at her, his eyes were soft but filled with want, “May I?” he asked and [y/n] looked at him shyly and nodded.

Lucifer's smile widens before he eventually allows his head to dip into her most intimate part. His mouth began to suckle on pussy, moans escaping both of their lips.

Lucifer felt hungry and he can only satisfy this hunger with her. He suckled greedily like a man dying of thirst. His tongue lapped along her folds, circling her clit that invokes loud moans from her. He misses this, he misses her so much.

[y/n]'s eyes rolled back and her back arching from the pleasure, toes curling, whimpers escaping her lips. She can feel the texture of his tongue against her most intimate part, a gasp left her lips as she felt him slip a finger inside, his long and slender finger thrusting in and out while his mouth worked wonders along with it.

“So utterly wet and so good for me, sweetheart,” Lucifer praises as he continues to eat her out before finally adding a second finger inside her, he could feel how easily his fingers slide in and out—a perfect manifestation of how much she wants him, he enjoys how she can no longer form coherent words aside from moans she let out. He is incredibly hard but this isn't about him but this is about her pleasure, she always comes first after all.

“You are so good to me... I love you...” [y/n] whimpered softly making him chuckle, “I love you too, darling.” he murmurs with a small smile, his tongue flicking through her hidden areas of her intimate area while his fingers continue to thrust in and out. Skins heating up from the passion.

Lucifer can tell whenever she's close, from the obvious sign of how her toes curl, how high pitched her moans are becoming, how hard she is gripping his hair and how far her eyes rolled back at the back of her head.

“Is my love gonna cum?” he asked teasingly making his girl whimper, “Yes...!” she replied and he chuckled as he increased the pace of his fingers and tongue, “Be a good girl for me and cum for me, [y/n]” Lucifer says and that was enough for the knot in her stomach to break, “I'm gonna cu—” her voice was cut off as she let out a loud whine.

Lucifer greedily lapped at her essence, like a nectar from the gods that he cannot get enough of. Small whimpers leaving [y/n]'s lips as she felt so sensitive.

He eventually removed his lips from her intimate area and along with his fingers, he looked up at her disheveled, breathless and flushed but beautiful face. Lucifer smiled, “Are you okay...?” he asked, his voice was gentle and worried and [y/n] nodded, “More than okay, my love.” she replied with a small smile, “We can stop here if you want? I don't want to force you or anything...” he says and [y/n] shakes her head, their love was both giving and receiving afterall, “I can still go on and besides, I know you need help with that.” she says with a smirk as her eyes landed on his painfully erect cock that was begging for her and he blushed, “Now, be a good boy and let me take care of you this time.”

[kortac-sweetheart]

just took some heavy duty cold meds and I don't remember if it was you who wrote this but I thought you enjoy to num on this

Nikto likes being helpful, likes as in needs to be helpful. Feels horrid when he's not

I imagine he has a wee darling who is short (for purposes of this idea as I'm 147 cm) and has trouble reaching things and the like.

now normally they probably just climb on stuff to get it, counter tops, flimsy tables. chairs from 3 rooms over, etc.

now it wasn't particularly a big issue, not in the sense that he would tell them but enough that he kinda wanted to do something about it.

which ended up with him putting things away like, really, far back in the cupboard as, (if he's not doing something) he's usually in some kind of proximity to them so when he hears that defeated little sigh or sees the mild annoyance he kinda just stared and stands there like 🧍 and really hopes they look over for help.

the dopamine rush of "I did this, they are happy with me, I did good." do be hitting different

(sorry for the weird thought I'm real loopy rn)

hi nonnie!! dove and i wrote something similar to that here

but i’m always up for an excuse to talk abt nikto hehe, i feel u abt him having a short darling i’m also 157cm/5’2

(personally i’m always grabbing a chair to reach stuff or flat out asking my brother for it)

but yes!! nikto would def put things in higher places/far in the back of cupboards and stuff so you’d come to him to ask for help. pouts under his mask when he sees you pull up a chair to do it instead but still takes the opportunity to dissuade you.

“no, no solnishko, it’s dangerous. don’t stand on there, we’ll get it for you.” picking you up by your underarms like a unruly cat (to him you are) all the while pouting at him, and lord give them strength, you’re so cute looking down at him.

all your favorite kitchenware? up on high shelves.

he has a sixth sense when you’re trying to clamber on something, and you know you’re busted when you feel his warm palm land on your back or shoulder or your waist.

always loves to do it, loves that little smile of gratitude and the “thank you andre!” or “thanks honey!” you give him. he lives for it, positively adores it.

or when you come to him to ask him to open a jar. it’s so mundane and it’s such a small thing but to him it means that you trust him, that you know he’ll take care of whatever for you. (that’s also why he hates the jar opener you bought, it’s also hidden away on high shelves, take that technology.)

eventually you don’t even bother trying to do small things on your own, your first subconscious thought is for you to come to him for help. whether that be for building furniture, or reaching that tea you like on the top shelf, or for that stubborn jar lid. he loves it all, loves helping you no matter what it is.

he loves it even more if you have difficulty asking for help in the first place. rewarding you with a nice kiss when you come to him for help, reassuring you that he loves to help you out.

also, when you’re in the grocery store he never allows anyone else to help you. he’s basically glued to your side and when you’re looking up at something on the shelf he’s already grabbing it for you. god forbid another guy tries to get something for you, one look from nikto and he’s already scampering off with his tail tucked between his legs. helping you is a privilege that only nikto is privy to.

[myeyebagsaredesigner]

Imma open my mind abt Tim Jason and Duke to you every day now I fucking love them.

Jason, Duke and Tim are almost 24/7 hours on Face Time, talking? No, just being, they're in the same room but still face timing cuz Duke likes to post those "24 hours again with twins 🔥" or smth like that, and sometimes they even talk to eachother through their sleeps

Tim and Duke having a whole ass conversation while sleeping on facetime and Jason is just there laughing when he gets home from patrol at night

Tim and Duke team up to mess with Jason even if they know he'd answer it while awake cuz its just fun.

Jason and Tim are out patrolling together while telling Duke whats happening even thought he's asleep

Even when they are with their respective partners they are on a call [Thought no voice nor camera open] and they just sometimes chime in to say smth abt the convo and leaves again

Tim and Duke also love to use Jason as a pillow

Ah yes, the classic "on call but could easily not be", the times of true friendship. They definitely do that. I don't see how they WOULDN'T!

I feel like it would be a very comforting presence for them, y'know? Like, no one has to be on the call and no one usually has anything that's necessary to talk about, yet they stay on the call because they want to.

The first time Tim stays on call with them overnight, he's very pleasantly surprised. Like, the call has been pretty silent for the past 15 minutes, aside from the background noise coming from Jason's patrol and the light snores from Duke's end. Jason finally goes home and Tim thinks he's probably going to hang up, but Jason just takes his phone with him into the bathroom and turns off his camera.

Something along these lines, I think

Tim: *Internally debating whether he should hang up or not*

Jason, getting home: "Gotta shower.. sleep."

Tim: "Yeah, I should probably, like, do my skincare."

Jason: "'Kay." *Takes phone into bathroom and shuts off camera*

Tim: ..interesting

Jason eventually gets out of the shower and turns his camera back on, just to throw himself into bed and knock out. Tim is left with a weird feeling of 'this kind of makes me happy and wanted in an interesting way, didn't know I could feel that' and goes to bed.

Jason would definitely sleep in, and Tim and Duke would do that think of 'hey Jason, stay sleeping if..' knowing fully well he's still asleep. "Jason, stay sleeping if you think I'm awesome." "Jason, don't say anything if I'm your favorite." "Jason, stay quiet if I can have the last yogurt." Jason does not like this. He will wake up to a half empty closet and a raided fridge, and they'll show him videos they took of him sleeping through their questions as "evidence."

I think it'd be funny if when Jason and Tim are patrolling, they talk to Duke without even realize it. Like they start narrating things they're doing and talking their thoughts through, not because they think they need to tell Duke, but because they subconsciously want him to know and just have a weird urge to narrate themselves. They understand each other, so it's not weird. The other bats are very confused. They make Jason do a blood test one day to test for possible poisons because on patrol he said "I am now loading my gun" while doing just that. They think he has some sort of truth serum. He does not.

They're all so used to being on call with each other, so they never get startled or caught off guard when someone speaks over the phone. It's normal for them, but not for the people around them.

Like, Tim will be silently working on the Batcomputer with Bruce looking at some files or something. Jason randomly sneezes and Bruce almost goes flying out of his chair. He hears Duke mock him with an "achOo" and turns to Tim, who's eyes haven't left the screen. He didn't even know them three were that close. Didn't even know they spoke to each other often. He peers at the screen and sees Duke walking down the isle of a grocery store and Jason's camera off, but he gapes at the call time of 17 hours. He can't imagine why they would be on call for that long if they aren't even talking.

Jason will be with Roy, who's absolutely done with this. He always forgets Jason is on call until Duke or Tim mumble something random and he always gets scared. Jason will say something, and he'll go to answer, only to realize he was talking to the phone.

Duke is sitting on the bus, and the people around him silently peer over to look at his phone. There's two other people on the call, one of them who looks like he'll pass out any minute, and the other who's only showing half his face while he scrolls on his phone. The bus people think they're trying to break a world record. They're sure they have already won.

Since they're on call literally all day, I'm sure their phones are always charging. Like, if they're lounging around the apartment or something it's plugged in to the wall. They carry around packs of portable chargers with them wherever they go. It's a bit.. much.

AND YES!! PILLOW JASON!!

Yes to all physical affection in general, but not the "normal type?" They don't go up to each other and exchange hugs or anything, but they're like always in contact whenever they're physically around each other. Jason will drape himself over them if they're sitting in a chair. They like it, it feels like a weighted blanket. Duke will always be leaning against someone. Sitting back to back, a hand on the shoulder, leaning against their legs when he sits on the floor in front of the couch. Tim will just start poking them. Duke is sitting next to him trying to eat breakfast and he's being rapidly poked in the cheek. Jason's ears are always red because Tim likes to pull at them when he's bored. He'll knock his forehead against their shoulders.

They always find a way to fit on the same couch. Accidental kicks to the face, awkwardly places limbs, an elbow in the side. They are not deterred. It's comfortable in it's own way. They'll all lay on the floor sometimes. Dick walks into the Batcave one day and sees them laying on the mats. Jason is on his stomach, Tim's head is on the back of his shoulder with his arm draped across his back. Duke is laying on Jason's thigh and is hugging one of Tim's stray legs. They're passed out. Dead asleep. Dick doesn't know the last time he saw Tim sleep. He lets it be after a quick picture.

I love them <3