#also im slowly making my way through all the prompts in my inbox and its hard so i apologize for the delay

[goldenempyrean]

aaaaa hi!! i love all the work you put out <3 also saw that requests are now open soooo can i request the prompt “naps are only for babies and old people. im neither.” for wanda and sick reader? pretty please?

“Make me.” 

〚 Notes - Sorry this is a little short but I thought it was still super cute. This rec's been gathering dust in my inbox so I'm glad its finally done! I haven't edited this yet so beware of errors :p 〛

〚 Summary - You're sick and refusing to rest but Wanda isn't about to let that continue for long. So you'd better watch your words.〛

〚 Wordcount - 655 〛

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“Go lie down before I make you.” Wanda huffed in annoyance you sat at the meeting table with your arms crossed defiantly, red nosed and sniffly, “You’re not being in the meeting, that’s final.” 

“That’s not for you to decide.” You replied with a little more bite then intended before turning away from the table to let out a few chesty coughs which only made the burning in the back of your throat intensity tenfold, “I need to be here.” 

“No you don’t.” Wanda groaned, “This meeting isn’t even important for a start so I don’t know why you’re being so stubborn when you’re obviously feeling terrible.” 

“I don’t feel terrible,” Well, that was obviously a lie, “It doesn’t matter if it’s not important, I'm part of the team so I should be herehh- HHeh’schoo!” 

You heard your girlfriend sigh as you sneezed, “It’s not that we don’t want you here, I even offered to come lay down with you. But you’re literally contagious Y/N,” She explained, her eyes casting over to where Maria was sat, currently being lectured by Nat to go rest herself, “You’re probably already infected half the agents here so please, can you just go and rest.” 

You did feel a little bad about that. Being aware of your own germs wasn’t really at the top of your priority list so you hadn’t even noticed that the agents around the compound had been all catching your cold. But still, you’d never missed a meeting before and your fever-fogged brain wasn’t about to ruin that streak, “Naps are only for babies and old people. im neither.” 

Your girlfriend shook her head again, clearly her patience had run out, “Y/N, this is the last I’ll ask nicely. Get your ass to bed now.” 

You should’ve known to watch your words when Wanda used that tone, it was obvious that she really was at the end of her tether. But your foggy mind didn’t pick up on the fact and your next words made the whole room fall suddenly silent. 

“Make me.” 

Wanda's eyes turn hard and her tone sharp when you challenge her. "You want to be an infant and be made to do something? Fine." The next thing you knew, there was a red glow surrounding your body as you were hoisted into the air, hovering several feet from your chair, “You’re going to bed one way or another.” 

“Put me down now.” You almost growled the words as Wanda continued to hold you in the grasp on her magic. 

But your girlfriend only shook her head as she kept you safely in her hold, slowly guiding you out of the meeting room and in the obvious direction back to your bedroom as she carefully followed behind. “Nope, sorry sweetie but if you’re going to be a pain in my ass about not resting then this is the only solution.” 

A soft groan of defeat escapes your lips. As Wanda carries you through the corridor and into the bedroom, you tried not to whine any further. Her magic is so powerful, you couldn't escape even if you wanted to; and honestly... you don't want to. The bed is cosy and inviting. Your tired body welcomed the plush linen as she placed you on the duvet, a deep sigh rumbling from your chest as you sink into the bed, “Wands?” 

“Yes, my love?” You can see it in her eyes that she isn't mad anymore, just happy that you’re finally in bed. 

“Can you stay?” 

Of course," Wanda replies affectionately, leaning down to kiss your head. She lingers there for a moment, rubbing her cheek against the crown of your head. Your fever will surely break soon, and you can already feel yourself beginning to breathe easier. Soon, the exhaustion will start to set in and you’d fall into a gentle asleep against the woman who loved you most in the world. 

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[thedistrictsleepsalonetonight]

River flows in you (or Dani is finding it very hard to take care of her stubborn, idiotic girlfriend)

An offhand comment courtesy of Owen Sharma wasn’t how Dani wanted to find out she was probably being clingy, mostly because it was extremely hypocritical of a man who spent most of his time following the housekeeper around a huge manor to say that to her. However, now that it was out there—

“You think I’m being clingy?” she asks, her doubts slowly taking shape into a definite worry she would fret over, late at night.

Owen raises his head from where it’s resting on Hannah’s lap. “I didn’t say you were being clingy.”

“You said I was panicking too much over not having seen Jamie for just a day!”

“Dani, darling,” Hannah says, her voice soft and soothing, the exact same way one would address a grumpy pet bird or nearabout, “you’re not being clingy. Just overthinking as usual.”

And how does one not do that, she thinks but takes a swig out of the abysmal cup of coffee she’d made herself instead of articulating it. You kiss the boy who’s supposed to be the great love of your life, but it doesn’t make you feel all the things you’re supposed to feel; what do you do? You stay up at night agonizing the way the girl wearing the nose ring at the shopping arcade turned to look at you, the way her eyes seemed to be telling a story you weren’t brave enough to hear yet; what do you do? The man you were supposed to marry dies and you are haunted by the ghost of him hiding in every mirror you look in; what do you do? You meet a girl who is all the prettiness of the moon, all the light of the stars, wrapped up in one person and somehow, she’s stupid enough to love you back; what do you do?

“Think, Dani,” Owen says. “The girl is a goner for you. She sent a letter because she couldn’t make it to the house for a couple of days. Stop worrying.”

(My darling Dani, this is how the letter had started. The middle read I’m sorry I won’t be at the house for a couple of days, there’s just some; the end read I miss you, I miss your lips, I miss the way you feel in my arms, I miss the sunlight that you carry at the back of your neck, I cannot wait to see you again.

Yours, eternally

Jamie)

Dani nods.

“Is that a ‘Yes, Owen, you’re right and I will indeed stop worrying’ nod, or a ‘I’ll agree to get you to shut up’ nod?”

“Um,” she tells him. “A little bit of both?”

Hannah and Owen sigh in unison.

*****

Dani tells herself she’s not being clingy, the next day, as she sits in her bed, holding the receiver of the telephone to her ear. She’s not. It’s just that today Owen had looked shifty when she’d asked him if he’d run into Jamie up at the village, and considering how bad a liar the man was, yeah, she was right to be concerned.  

(Plus, it’s been two days. Two days of not seeing Jamie’s face, or hearing her voice, or feeling her hands entangled with her own.

She wasn’t prepared for this. She’d never felt this level of intensity with Eddie. Never felt the urgency to be around him this much or stay up to talk to him the entire night. This — being with Jamie — was exciting, and thrilling and unprecedented, and honestly, she seemed to be spending most of her time walking around and feeling dazed with just how much she felt.)

The phone rings a long time. Long enough for her to wonder if she should just hang up. It was ten in the night, after all. Jamie could’ve fallen asleep. She could be outside. She could be sitting in the couch, just feeling sick of her clingy girlfriend and vehemently hating the—

Okay. Stop.

(You are not going there, Dani thinks, furiously. We, and here she imagines herself pointing a stern finger at the Dani in her head, are not going there, you hear me?)

Rewind.

Jamie could be busy. She could’ve—

“’ello?”

“Ja — Jamie?” she asks, because the voice on the other end sounds like it’s been put through a meat grinder and then fed to a hound. But it’s Jamie. She knows that. Only Jamie’s voice can make that thing inside her chest jump the loop-de-loop and end with a cheer. “Are you okay?”

There’s a thud on the other end, a thud that sounds to Dani like someone’s just dropped the receiver in shock, and it makes her smile.

“Dani?”

“Hi, there,” she says, her palms feeling sweaty. Nobody said having a girlfriend was going to require this much fortitude. “I — I hadn’t seen you in a while and—”

“No, I’m,” Jamie says, hurriedly, “I’m glad you called. It’s, uh, it’s good to hear your voice.”

Dani closes her eyes, covers her face with her other hand. She is lucky nobody’s around right now. God only knows the number of jokes Miles would’ve cracked if he’d gotten a glimpse of her like this, red as a tomato, smiling cheek to cheek.

“It is?”

“Yeah.” There’s a sound again, and then comes distant coughing. Dani imagines her standing near the phone, hand against the wall, head tilted to one side. The mental image makes her ache somewhere inside. “Really, really good.”

“You’re sick.”

“Wha — that’s crazy. I’m not — I’m not sick. You’re sick.”

Dani laughs. “Jamie. Baby. You’re sick.”

“You called me baby,” Jamie sing-songs, and it sounds adorable in her hoarse voice.

“Idiot,” Dani tells her. “Why didn’t you tell Owen when you sent the letter?”

There’s silence on the other end.

“Oh.”

More silence.

“Why did he not—”

“—okay, wait, please don’t be mad at him. I made him promise he wouldn’t tell you.”

“And why would you do that?”

Jamie groans. “Because it’s not a big deal. I’m alright. Totally fine. Totally chill.”

“Uh huh, okay,” Dani says. “What’d you have for dinner then?”

Jamie falls silent again.

“Jamie?” Dani prompts, after two whole minutes of crickets chirping on the phone.

“Um, a cracker?”

Dani sighs, tells Jamie she’s in grave, grave trouble, and then hangs up.

Owen takes one look at her, and grudgingly takes the car keys out of his pocket.

*****

Objectively, Jamie looks like death dressed up in layers and fluffy slippers. Looks like her hair hasn’t seen a comb in two days, like her nose could masquerade as a police siren, and her back definitely, definitely has seen better days.

On the other hand, Dani’s looking at her through the hearts that have formed over her eyes, so this is what she sees: the woman she loves, the most beautiful woman in the world, completely at home. Her hair has the same curl that usually tickles Dani’s nose when she buries her face in it; her lips are turned up in the smile Dani’s long come to realize only comes out when they’re together; and her eyes, though red, are somehow still sparkling when they’re looking right at her.

Dani lets out a deep breath she’s been holding for a while. The yearning passes. The relief permeates through her veins, painting her insides with peace.

(Dani’s so in love she doesn’t know what to do with herself)

She tries her very best to sound stern. “Why are you like this?”

“Counter question, Poppins,” Jamie replies, leaning against the doorjamb, and whoa, she sounds worse than on the phone. “Why do you like this?”

Dani rolls her eyes, steps forward, arms raised to hug her and—

Jamie holds her by the shoulders, stops her. Dani looks down, suddenly unsure again. It was one thing to emergency drive to your girlfriend’s place at night because she was a self-sabotaging dumbass who had no idea how to take care of herself; entirely another thing to expect her to want you there.  

“I’m sor—”

“No!” Jamie tells her, shaking her head wildly and then groaning. “I just — I’m a hotbed of germs right now, Dani. I’d really rather I didn’t infect you too.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Jamie continues. “Snot factory. Ultra gross.”

“I don’t mind if you don’t,” Dani tries, because she really, really wants to hug her girlfriend, germs be damned.

Jamie groans again. “How am I supposed to say no if you give me those eyes?”

A minute later, clutched tightly in Jamie’s arms, Dani counts it as a victory.

*****

Dani sets to work almost immediately.

“It’s not that bad,” Jamie explains defensively, when Dani stands at the entrance to the drawing room, just staring at the mess in horror. There’s a bundle of clothes on a chair, half-empty packets and wrappers strewn around the television, and to her great amusement, Jamie’s bra hanging from one of the potted plants that stands between the room and the balcony.

“I’d really like to know your definition of not that bad,” Dani asks, raising her hands to put air-quotes around the last part, “because clearly it differs to mine.”

Jamie sits on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket and pouts.

“You threw your bra at it, Jamie,” Dani reprimands her, picking it off the snake plant. “Look at it. It looks embarrassed.”

“That’s Boulevard,” Jamie tells her. “Boulie for short. And he’s a creep anyway, so you shouldn’t worry.”

(Of course Jamie named her plants. Dani picks this fact and tucks it away somewhere near her heart, into an envelope she’s long labelled “Jamie”)

“Why Boulevard?”

“I like the word,” Jamie shrugs, smiles. “The one behind him is Bourgeois, or Bougie. That there’s Avenue, and Bottle and Ocean. And there’s one at the very end—”

Dani crouches, thumbs at the bright yellow Dahlia that’s smiling at her.

“—that one’s Dani.”

“Huh,” she looks up and grins at Jamie. “Why Dani?”

“Like I said before,” Jamie tells her, solemnly, “it sounds like the best word to me.”  

*****

Dani blows gently on the spoon, then extends it towards Jamie.

“You really don’t have to do this.”

“I know I don’t have to,” Dani tells her, patiently. “I want to. I want to take care of you, and feed you chicken noodle soup, and pick your stupid bra off of your plants—”

“—not where I thought this was going, but okay—”

Jamie finishes the spoonful, and Dani digs in for another one.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”  

“Tell you what?”

“That you were sick.”

“Because it really isn’t bad,” Jamie says, offhandedly. She’s looking away, her hands fiddling with an errant string on the blanket, and Dani waits for more. “I just gotta wear it out, I guess. Three days of rest and then back to normal.”

“Doesn’t look like it’s that easy,” she replies, casually, feeding Jamie another spoonful.

“I — I’m used to this, okay?” Jamie pauses and takes a deep breath. “I’m used to doing this alone. Been taking care of myself since a long, long time. I don’t wanna—”

“—yes?”

“I don’t wanna get used to this. People taking care of me. I mean, you might not be around long and then I’d have to go back to it and that would suck worse than,” Jamie sucks in a deep, trembling breath, and Dani aches, “yeah. So. That, I guess.”

Dani leans forward, kisses Jamie on the lips, and then on her forehead. Searches for something to say.  

(Because here’s the thing: she understands exactly where Jamie’s coming from. When you’ve been alone for a long time, you do get used to not depending on people. Part of Jamie sees this vulnerability as a weakness. Part of her sees it potential incoming grief)

“What if,” she whispers, hesitantly, lips still close to Jamie’s temple, “what if I do stay for a long time?”

Jamie chokes out a wet laugh. “Is that a challenge or a promise?”

“It’s whatever you need it to be.” I’ll be whatever you need to be, for however long you need me.

“What if I want you to stay forever?”

Then you have me forever. “Only if you let me name a plant after you and eat this entire bowl of noodles,” she says instead.

Jamie laughs again, and Dani thinks, strangely enough — I’m gonna marry her one day. It won’t be tomorrow, or a week later, or even six months later, but one day, she will. She knows it as certainly as she knows that there is no way she can convince Jamie to go to sleep after this, until she pouts, as she knows that her girlfriend’s still going to be the biggest self-sabotaging idiot in the world, no matter how many times Dani chastises her.  

But there will be a moon in the sky, every night, and the stars will continue to spell out Jamie’s name for her and like every other inevitable truth that exists in their lives, Dani will love Jamie for however long she can.

[wizkiddx]

Heey, first of all yeeah to 500 followers!! You deserve them 🎉 I was wondering if you still do the celebration and could write something for #2 neck kisses with Tom. Thanks and have an awesome day 😊

so sorry but i completely lost this in my inbox so sorry its so late!!!! also this is kinda a Father’s Day one too (except im half a week too late but hey ho)

summary: soon to be dad!tom predicts your babies gender

kissing prompts 2 = neck kisses

///////////////////////

Your day had been a pretty mundane one. Just a typical Saturday of getting shit done - involving cleaning the bathrooms and then putting a wash on. It was a set of jobs you'd normally share with your fiance, except he had been out golfing all day.

To be fair, he had earned himself the day off. Ever since you'd found out you were pregnant - the boy had barely let you lift a finger. Especially after you'd passed the 24 weeks landmark, now that the baby bump wasn't so much a bump, and more a fucking volcano sprouting out your belly.

For once the British weather was actually pretty decent, meaning you opened all the patio windows to allow the ribbons of golden light to stream into your living room. In your own little world, you stood by the table and hung up baby grows on the airer. Yes, it was a bit early to be laundering the baby's clothes, but both you and Tom couldn't help yourselves. Last week, when you went shopping for Nikki's birthday - instead the both of you had got distracted by the newborn section.

Tom made a quiet entrance into the house, so much so you hadn't noticed the door open as you softly hummed an old Beatles tune whilst reaching for the following soft grey striped onepiece.

He hadn't been in the best mood when walking through the door. The round had not gone his way, he'd ended up 6 shots above his standard handicap whilst Harry had got his PB. Pissed was an understatement - Tom had turned down the pub after, which meant he was absolutely fuming. Instead, he just wanted to come home and have a shower and forget about everything.

All of that kind of melted away though, when he rounded the corner of the hallway - the sight stopping him dead in his tracks.

You, standing side on, your outline a silhouette to the evening sun filtering through the doors. The light effect made you look ethereal, as well as exaggerating your bump evermore. And then you were holding up this tiny looking babygrow in front of you. It was inexplicable but, at that moment, literally nothing else mattered to Tom.

Of course, you eventually caught him staring, a soft smile growing on your face after you'd turned to pick another baby grow up. All it took was that one look for all the tension in his body to fizzle away. Immediately Tom took the steps towards you, hugging you from the back and propping his chin on your shoulder, whilst his hands slipped under your bump.

"Thought you said it was too early to get the baby stuff ready?"? He whisper- chuckled, making you roll your eyes. Because it was his puppy dog eyes begging you to let him by the 12 babygrows the other weekend.

"Shhhhh would you just look how small they are!" You gestured as you shook out another damp babygrow in front of him.

"Just imagine…" Tom spoke very quietly as he reached round you to take the little onsie out of your hands. He then lifted up the hem of your cotton vest top, laying the outfit on your exposed belly. "Someday soon they'll be outside your stomach like this."

The action, of him holding the cotton fabric over your belly, had everything feeling a lot more real all of a sudden. You were seriously going to have a baby.

It made you let out a little gasp, which Tom only chuckled at, pressing himself closer against your back. "You only just realised that love?"

"No I- ooh" You were about to violently defend yourself from Tom's laughter, except you were distracted by a slightly uncomfortable pressure on your stomach. Instantly you moved your hand over Tom's and pressed down on the area, so Tom could feel the little butterfly kicking through the babygrow.

"I think baby likes her outfit" You giggled, whilst now it was Tom's turn to hold in an unconscious breath. He slowly pressed around the outline of the protruding limb, which your baby kept returning as if high-fiving him.

"Oh my god she just fist-bumped me!"

"Or he!!!" You laughed, shaking your head against the top of his.

"Nah it's a girl I can sense it." He whispered, though very much not concentrating on anything except the little game he played with the baby in your stomach.

"Spidey sense?"

"Nope… special dad instincts." This time he spoke against your jaw, before peppering your bone with short pecks. "Mhm…." Tom spoke as he worked his way downward, poking his nose in the crook of your neck "I love my girls so much."

"Or boy!" You indignantly interjected, earning you a huff from Tom as he stayed softly nipping the sensitive skin just above your collarbone.

He was attempting to get you lost in the feeling, and boy was it also it working. Letting your head loll to the side to give him better access, you exhaled deeply, bringing your right hand round the back of both of you to trail through his brown curls. He was still a little sweaty from spending all evening in the summer sun- which reminded you.

"How was golf, by the way?" All you received was a mumbled 'doesn't matter' back, which in itself answered your question very well.

"That means you lost?" Giggling at his schoolboy attitude to defeat, Tom groaned, then even harder when you spun in his hold, so now you were facing each other - his hands still holding the baby grow on your bump between the both of you. This way you could see him, and he wasn't ever able to hide anything when your innocent gaze was on him.

"-sn't my fault" He pouted, big brown eyes looking so profoundly at you that some might even find the intensity scary. "My club broke anyway, so it wasn't a fair game."

That made you cock your head to the side. Really? A club just spontaneously breaking? You'd seen the bank statements; you knew how bloody much Tom invested into his club collection. They definitely shouldn't e flimsy and snapping spontaneously at their price point.

"The club broke orrr you broke the club?"

"The club was involved in an unfortunate accident; a tree collided with it."

You had to laugh at how Tom explained how he had taken his anger out on a tree. Tom returned your humour with an eye roll - not much enjoying being caught out.

It didn't last long, though, as and harsh jab interrupted you with an 'ooof'. It came from inside you and even Tom winced at how hard the little munchkin inside you kicked your side, right over where Tom's hands were resting.

"I think that's baby's way of telling you off for having a temper tantrum." Once recovered, you had to grin again, rubbing the skin with Tom's hand to ease the subsiding ache.

"Is it not too early for her to realise exactly who's in charge?" He grumbled, referring to the fact that you both knew Tom was wrapped around yours and soon to be babies fingers.

"Or him!".

To shut you up, Tom finally gave you the welcome home kiss, still with his hands holding the babygrow on your bump. Excited, if terrified, to be yours and your baby's bitch boy for the rest of his life.

~~~~let me know what you think, recently been finding acc writing v difficult so sorry if this aint great~~~~~~

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[meltwonu]

36. “Could he make you feel as good as i do?”

52. “I’m not jealous! its just…you’re mine!”

96. “Your ass is going to be seven different shades of red after that little stunt.”

notes; the littlest bit of dom!jun but mostly jealous/possessive!jun, car sex, car quickies!, dirty talk, the smallest hint of exhibitionism, the way i thought this was so hot but then i thought about MAMA and how they were just sitting in the cars/outside so I’ve remixed this a little bit heh hope u dont mind!! 😭😩💕 also prime example of that last ask and me having to be in the mood for certain prompts bc im pretty sure this one has been sitting in my inbox for months ☠️ sorry ‘bout that. just goes to show I don’t go in order!! As always, thank you for requesting! Enjoy! 💕

The van door shuts behind you louder than you expect it to; grimacing when you turn and meet Jun’s annoyed stare.

“Really?” He drawls, ushering you to scoot over to the back of the van as he follows suit. “He was three seconds from asking for your phone number if I hadn’t stepped in, y’know.”

You roll your eyes at Jun as you rest against the other side of the backseat. “I was just talking to him. And let’s be real, it’s boring staying in the van when everyone’s mingling outside.” Mumbling, you watch as Jun loosens his necktie; licking your lips at the simple gesture. “And it’s not like I was going to give it to him anyway, so you don’t need to be jealous, Jun.”

“I’m not jealous! It’s just… You’re mine!” He whispers harshly; careful to remember that the two of you were only in a van and that there were still people standing outside. “And I saw the way he was looking at you!”

“Yeah? And what kinda way was it?” Your voice drops slightly, eyes dancing up to Jun who meets your suggestive stare.

He chuckles under his breath, tinkering with the rings on his fingers as he thinks. “It’s the same way I look at you. When I want to bend you over the table and pull your panties to the side so I can fuck you when we’re both impatient. Or the way I look at you when you’re cumming on my cock and you’re so fuckin’ lost in getting off that you start playing with yourself to really milk your orgasm.”

Your body burns hot; pussy clenching around emptiness as you hang onto every word that leaves Jun’s lips.

He smirks in return when he sees the way your eyes seem to hollow, mind obviously elsewhere.

“And it’s the same look you have in your eyes now that you’re thinkin’ about my cock inside of you.”

“Ngh.. Jun…”

You swivel your hips; soft cries spilling from your lips as Jun’s blunt nails dig into your clothed waist. The two of you really didn’t have the time, so he’d quickly tugged you into his lap, harsh kisses against your lips while he snuck his hand up your short skirt before he had you sinking down onto his cock.

“You should really be careful, baby. You wouldn’t want them to hear you in here, would you?” He teases quietly. You shake your head in return as you open your foggy eyes and immediately start scanning the windows.

There were still staff running around outside and the two of you were unsure how long you even had before someone came poking around.

You’d thanked the higher powers that at least the windows had been tinted, at least a little.

“I’m suh--sorry, it’s j-just… you feel so g-good and--and, mmh, it’s been a-a while since we had t-time…” You mumble; bottom lip quivering when you feel him start to thrust up just as you start to bounce on his lap a little harder. His cock curves into you perfectly and you can’t help the loud cries that fall from your lips. 

Jun pouts up at you, brows furrowed. “I know, but we’ve been busy rehearsing. You know how it is.” He pauses; images of you speaking to the other male idol dancing in his mind before he gently scoffs. “Didn’t expect to invite you here and then catch you mingling with other male idols though.”

“Ugh, we were just t-talking~” You whine, “And I’m, ah, here n-now getting d-drunk off your c-cock…”

He grins at this; ego slightly boosted. “That’s right. Taking my cock in the backseat of our van that anyone can walk into. Letting everyone know how good I fuck you since you can’t seem to stay quiet either. Say, could he make you feel as good as I do?”

“N-no, fuh--fuck, Jun! Right there, please! Please…” You mewl, bouncing in his lap harder when the head of his cock slams into your g-spot.

The van sways slightly at your frantic movements and you’re sure by now that someone’s already caught on that there were definitely people in the van hooking up. Not that you cared.

“Play with yourself, baby. I wanna feel your ‘lil cunt getting tight around me when you cum on my lap.” Jun licks his lips, eyes dancing to the manager that almost opens the door but steps away once they realize the van’s moving. “I wanna cum in your pretty pussy. Gonna fill you up with so much of my cum that it’s spilling out of you and then once we get back to my room I’m gonna fuck it back into your tight hole while you beg me for more.” Grinning, he relishes in the way you only tighten around his cock at his words. “Or, you can go back out there. Go mingle with everyone while my cum slides down your thighs.” 

Jun can feel himself close to cumming too; hips canting upwards to meet your frenzied movements once you push your panties even more to the side to play with your clit.

His cock throbs inside of your tight heat, soft moans spilling from his own lips when he can feel you cumming on his cock not even a minute later.

“F-fuck, baby…” Your walls clamp down onto his cock in a vice grip as the pleasure washes over you, fingers still rubbing harsh and quick circles on your clit as you cry out Jun’s name in a hurried mess.

He cums soon after you, biting on his bottom lip to keep in his noises as the two of you ride out your highs.

You let out a drawn out moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “J--Jun I--you’re c-cumming so, ah, m-much…” The warmth spreads throughout your body as he fills you up and you find yourself swiveling your hips to ride out the remnants of your orgasm as he laughs under his breath.

“Yeah and don’t drop any of it or else the stylists are gonna kick my ass for getting my suit dirty.” He responds breathily, wiping at his forehead gently. You blink at him incredulously, wondering how you were supposed to get off his lap without spilling any cum on his, somewhat, still properly pressed slacks.

“But--but--”

“But what? Don’t you like a challenge?” Smirking, Jun watches as the gears turn in your head. You pout back at him, pulling your panties slightly until the hem is right against where his cock is still inside of you.

You quickly raise yourself off of his lap, tugging your panties back into place and letting out a guttural moan when you feel his cum already pooling in the material a second later.  

“Uh oh~” He singsongs, already making disapproving noises as you look down into his lap.

Jun reaches a hand between your legs in return; fingertips pressing into your cum covered panties as he teases your clit through the soaked material.

“J--Jun!” Letting out a shaky moan, you let him tease you through your panties, already somewhat grinding down onto his fingers. 

“You got cum on my slacks, baby. You know your ass is going to be seven different shades of red after that little stunt.”

“But---But I didn’t d-do it on, mmh, pur---purpose!” You cry out, breath hitching when he slowly pushes your panties into your hole. “I p-promise!”

A knock on the window drags the two of you out of your world; Seungcheol’s suit-clad form on the other side of the tinted glass. “Jun. 10 minutes.” He mutters, eyes focused elsewhere before briskly walking away from the van.

Your entire body is warm from the post-orgasmic bliss and slight embarrassment but all Jun does is smirk and retract his hand from between your legs.

“On second thought, stay in the van. I’ll deal with you once I get back and don’t even think about touching yourself while I’m gone.”

[xxx-cat-xxx]

Thank you so much for all of your fic! I know you probably have a lot on your plate and many prompts in your inbox, but literally one of my absolute favourite tropes ever is "Tony taking out the Arc Reactor to look at it for a moment and because he's him and hasn't actually explained a lot about it to people those around watching him suddenly pop it out his chest for no reason have a mini panic". Could you maybe do a fic with this with Tony and Peter?

Thank you, anon! Sorry that it took me so long toget this done. And sorry if it came out too angsty. If you´re still around, I´d like toknow what you think.Also, if you don´t know it yet, check out this awesome ficby @darkestsight. It works with the same storyline.

Let´s ignore canon for this one and imagineTony still has his arc reactor after Civil War. Light angst, mentions of canonical deaths, injury and emeto.

Lose another one

The drone is larger than any Peter´s ever seenbefore. It looks nearly awe-inspiring when it is encased by Iron Man´s repulsor blasts and ignites in a series of explosions. But then an energy ray strikes the chest piece of Tony´sarmour, causing the arc reactor´s glow to fade, and it all goes downhill from there.

When Peter makes a hard and hasty landing on the ground, Tony isalready on his feet again,impatiently waving ahand at him.

“Followme,” Peter hears him rasp hoarsely in his ear piece, and it doesn´t need the slightly-off tone inhis voice for Peter´s spider senses to dial up.

“Are youalright?” he asks while hurrying to keep up with Tony´s jog. His glove is torn, a finger bleeding sluggishly, and he must have bashed his knee somewhere, because he can feel himself limping.

“Don´t callthe others,” he gets a cut-off reply, and then Tony must have muted his mike,because the panting breaths Peter´s been hearing stop all of the sudden.

They don´tmake it far into the forest before Tony starts to sway on his feet, visibly having problems walking a straight line.

Peter isabout to call him out on it, but Tony´s legs are already giving outunder him. He sinks to his knees, bracing one arm against a tree strunk, before doubling over. His helmet withdraws, and Peter can just make out hisstark white face in the last shimmers of evening light.

“Mr. Stark?”

Tony starts to reply, but instead of words he brings up a mouthful of vomit. His upper body seems to vanish and then return for moments in the pale-blue flickering of the arc reactor´s light.

Petercan see little white clouds of air leaving his mentor´s lips in rapid succession. He takes a step forward, torn between the urge to help and the wish to give him some privacy.

“Mr. Stark, is this – are you having a panic attack?”

Tonydoesn’t answer, too busy throwing up again. He clutches his chest with his free hand, still retching, his face contorting in sudden agony.He seems to beunable to stay upright, listing to the side until Peter catches him in anawkward angle against his chest and slowly lowers him to the ground.

“Oh, shit,” Peter´s brains runs frantically, searching for the right words, the right actions, his heart pounding so hard that he can feel it till his fingertips.

“I, uhm, we´re here, near New York, we had a fight, but we are save now -”

“F - fuckingknow where I am,” Tony can´t resist to press out between gritted teeth. “Just…”

His trembling hand reaches for the hidden switchthat opens the suit. He sure as hell didn´t want to do this in front of the kid, but timing is not on his side today, or ever, for that matter.

His vision is getting increasingly blurred. Peter isnothing but a whisp of red and blue, but luckily his fingers don´t need sight to find the outline of the reactor, twist it a little and take it out of hischest. Blue energy frizzles around the tip of his thumb.

The relief is instantaneous. The chest pain doesn´t vanish, but Tony stops feeling like he is actively dying, the nausea decreases to a minimum, and he can finally take a deep breath.

He lies there, eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of oxygen flooding his veins and the buzzing in his head slowly dying down. It´s only Peter´s panicking voice that pulls im out of the haze.

“Please, areyou awake?“ Tony squints upwards, momentarily surprised at the presence of another human being. The expression on the kid´s face is pure terror.

“Oh god, why would you do that?”

“Do what?” Tony grunts.

“The arc reactor, why did you take it out?”

Tony has to think about that for a moment, his mind still catching up with the events.

“Oh, that. It overcharged, that bastard of a drone pulled some trick I wasn´t expecting.”

“Can you put it back in now?” Peter´s voice is impatient, still on the brink of tripping over itself.

“It should decharge on its own, just give it a moment,” Tony reassures.

Peter doesn´t seem convinced. He gives Tony a sceptical glance, chewing on his lower lip. Tony knows that this is probably owed to him not having the bestreputation of self-care, but honestly-

“Come on, I´m the one with trust issues,” he teases, but the grin Peter gives in reply is half-hearted at best.

He makes to sit, grabbing Peter´s arm for support when the dizziness dials up again.

“Huh.” He takesa deep breath. “Wow, this is how it feels to bea high voltage plant?”

Peter doesn´t even laugh, his eyes darting to and fro between Tony´s face and the arc reactor in his hand. There´s bit of dirt and ice on it, and he absent-mindedly rubs it clean with numb fingers.

“Kid, quit looking at me like that. I´ll be okay if I take it out for a fewminutes,” Tony adds ina more sober tone, although the greying edges around his vision tell him that his few minutes are nearly over.“Scout´s honour. ”

Half an hour later, Bruce is sitting with Peter in a van that is slowly making its way back to the compound through a New York clouded by icy rain.

Tony is lying on a gurney, out like a light. He´d stumbled to the vehicle on shaky legs, insisting that he was fine, and had only grumpily let Bruce check him over while Pete distracted him with tech talk, just to fade out on them less than five minutes into the ride.

He is fine, as Bruce assured Peter several times, or at least Tony´s definition of it. But his heart has taken a heavy shock during the drone´s attack and the aftershocks are still catching up with him, causing his blood pressure to fall through the basement. He looks almost peaceful now, apart from the slim oxygen tube leading to his nose and the cuff fixed around his upper arm.

“But does anyone even know how it works? What if something happens, how to fix it… “

Peter shakes Bruce out of his thoughts.

“Friday´s got all the data saved. Tony might be the best in the field, but there are quite a few engineers that could help fixing it even if he´s incapacitated.” If Tony lets them, he thinks, but he doesn´t say that out loud. “He´s gonna be okay, kid, we are taking good care of him.”

Peter nods, but it´s the kind of nod Bruce knows all too well from himself, one lacking any conviction.

He´s going to have a word with Tony.

That night Peter finds himself standing at the window, unable to sleep, staring at the snowflakes that are slowly morphing the compound from a boring grey into a fairytale landscape.

Tony had woken up groggily shortly after they´d reached back, and Bruce and Friday had to threaten to lock him out of the lab in order to make him stay in bed and rest.

“Traitor,” Tony had growled at the ceiling, and Peter had grinned, and then he´d sat on the edge of the bed while Tony talked him through fixing his glove, pretending not to see the way his right hand was still massaging his chest every now and then.

Tony had needed his reading glasses to see the small bits and pieces, and Peter had called him grandpa, causing Bruce to laugh so hard he nearly turned green. The arc reactor had been glowing steadily, and for a moment things had seemed okay.

He´d excused himself soon after, citing homework as a reason. And now here he was, staring at the snow like it could tell him what´s wrong with him, what´s causing his chest to feel tight and his breaths to stock every here and there.

Maybe it was the casuality with which Tony had removed the device that´s keeping him alive, as if it wasn´t just more than another thing, something of not more value to Tony than any other of his machines.

His neck warns him with a tickling even before he can hear the footsteps.

“Shouldn´t you be resting?” he asks when Tony rounds the corner.He still looks paler than he usually does, and Peter notices that he is staying close to the wall, legs a little unstable.

“I could ask you the same thing, Spider-kid,” he replies.

“How are you?” Peter asks instead of giving an answer.

“I´m great, I´m peachy.“

“Yeah,” Peter mumbles, biting his lip. He concentrates on the pattern the snow flakes leave on the window pane.

“What´s up, Spiderling? Doesn´t suit you, this grumpy sort of silence.” Tony eyes him with an intensity that´s usually reserved for tricky bits of code or wire.

Peter evades his gaze, but he notices when Tony doesn´t walk up till the window, sinking down into an armchair insteadwith visible relief.

“How are you, really?”

“I told, you, I´m fine. I´m always fine.” Tony says in a dismissive tone, slightly annoyed. Something about it suddenly makes Peter feel incredibly angry.

“You always say this,” he blurts out. “And then you nearly get electrocuted, or you die from a heart attack, and…I…I just stand there - and -”

He doesn´t want to shout, to fight, to make more of a fool of himself. He knows that his mentor has stayed alive, more or less, for 50 years without his supervision. But the words are out before he can stop himself.

There´s a long silence before Tony starts to speak.

“I do understand you,“ he finally says, and Peter hears the but even before the next words leave his mouth.

“I would like to promise you that things will change, that I´ll take care of myself, that I´ll keep my nose out of all the dangerous stuff. But honestly, what´s the sense of raising false expectations?” Tony draws in a breath, a little shaky, and Peter is almost sure that this has nothing to do with his heart condition.

“Yeah, I get it.” And he does, he sees the layers of Tony´s fears and obligations, his pride and responsibilities, doesn´t see through them exactly, but he understands that it´s not his place to expect anything more than what he has already received. But still…

Something childish in Peter just wants to urge him to promise it anyways, just wants to hear the words from his mouth, eventhough he knows that they can´t become true.

He turns away, back to the window, hoping that the room is too dark for Tony to see his reflection in the glass. Maybe this is just part of growing up, he thinks, the knowledge that at some point, nobody you love is safe anymore.

“Hey.” Tony´s voice is a little softer now. He gets up with a groan, rests a hand on Peter´s shoulder.

“Listen, kid. I might be a grandpa to you, but I can take care of myself. And contrary to popular belief, I don´t have an active interest in kicking the bucket anytime soon.”

“I know,” Peter says. “It´s just…” It´s just that that nobody ever planned to leave. They were just gone, from one moment to the next.

He stubbornly blinks away a tear, feeling infinitely silly. It falls nonetheless, leaving a wet spot on the window sill.

And then Tony is there, finally, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him towards his chest. It´s the closest thing to a hug Peter has ever received from him.

“I can’t lose another one,” he whispers.

“I know,“ Tony says, a hint of sadness in his tone when his arms tighten fast around Peter and make the world seem a little bit less insecure. “I´ll try. I´ll try my best, I promise.”

[creativeashproductions]

Bye Bye

Summary: Attempting to escape from the new enemy causes Reader and Stiles to teleport to Kansas with near devastating results. Those being in the form of the infamous hunters the Winchesters and of course Stiles has to get word vomit.

Characters: platonic!reader x platonic!Stiles Stilinski, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, and Scott McCall

Words: 1350

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf, Supernatural or the characters involved. I only own the reader and the plot around the reader. I also do not own gifs or images either.

Warnings: Swearing, mention of death and the Winchesters (let’s face it, they are warnings alone)

Author: Caitsy

A/N: Short and sweet. I’m trying to get more comfortable not reaching 2k words. Also read this for the new regulation and add some comment on this fic and another shall appear soon.

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You were racing along with Stiles from the new enemy, you could practically feel the breath on the back of your neck as you pushed Stiles in front more. Of course it wouldn’t take the wolves on but instead wanted the ‘weak’ link of the pack first. Humans.

“Stiles move!” You shouted at the uncoordinated teenager.

“I’m trying!” He shouted back pushing himself further.

The thing was that when you got panicky things tended to turn south…a lot. Last time you had managed to land yourself in a snowbank in Alaska. It was freezing before you managed to get back to the loft. You had started taking yoga to calm yourself so the chance of teleporting unexpectedly was lowered. You felt the claws brush your arm before you jumped landing a hand of Stiles’ shoulder before you let yourself go. When you opened your eyes you saw that you were in the middle of a road with Stiles hyperventilating beside you. You heard a rumble of a car before you turned seeing bright headlights aiming right at you.

“I’M TOO YOUNG TO DIE!”

“Are you just saying that because you’re still a virgin?” You questioned freaking out. The car screeched, swerving slightly when you touched Stiles and zapped yourselves behind the car.

The tension in the air was thick when the doors of the car were violently pushed open and guns were pulled on the two of you. One insanely tall guy and another tall guy roughly moved towards you guys and just as the shorter of the two was about to pull the trigger you and Stiles zapped to the side letting the echo of the high pitch scream coming from Stiles shift with you.

“Who the hell are you?” The deep gravely voice of the shorter one demanded. Your eyes doubled in size.

“No one.” You cleared your throat. You glanced over to see Stiles looking up at the sky as if he were pleading with the Gods.

“You just appeared out of no where!”

“Before you kill us. Can we know your names?” Stiles nervously asked.

“Dean.” The shorter one stated, “This is my younger brother Sam.”

“Stiles Stilinski. This is Y/N Y/L/N.” Stiles pointed to you.

“What the hell is a Stiles?” Sam said. The offended expression crossed your friends face before it was amazingly replaced with a blank expression. Moving to grip his hand the gun trained you only this time.

“Don’t even think about it.” Dean threatened.

“You wouldn’t kill him right? He’s a seventeen year old virgin.” You nervously said. You had faced so many supernatural creatures you were surprised to see that a gun make you scared. You had faced a ghostly creature brought back by Dread Doctors for Christ sakes.

“Eh.” Dean rolled his shoulders, “Sam still is one too. He’s in his thirties.”

“Dean!” Sam exclaimed looking at him, “I’m not…whatever. Look what the hell are you?”

“I’m human!” Stiles yelled, “She’s something. She can teleport but she’s completely human.”

Dean slowly lowered his gun until he saw you hadn’t moved an inch and pushed it back into his waist band. Both of the men were slightly surprised about the development along with how reserved and older both of the teens appeared to be.

“Why are you here?” Sam questioned following his brother’s movements.

“When I get emotional in any way I tend to teleport without knowing where I will end up. We were in the forest in our town running from…whatever the hell the enemy is this time…and when he brushed my arm I grabbed Stiles intending to land in his house but got Dorothy’s home state.”

“Enemy? You’re a minor! How the hell do you have an enemy?”

“It’s a long story.” Stiles sighed. He knew that they wouldn’t be released until the brothers had every piece of information possible, “You can’t go there. The town’s being protected by our pack.”

“Werewolf pack?” Dean tensed.

“No. There’s a werecoyote, a kitsune, two werewolves, a chimera turned werewolf, banshee, hellhound. Along with a mercenary, druid, a hunter.”  Stiles listed off despite the expressions Y/N was making at him.

“What about you two.” Sam stated instead of asking.

“She’s just a special human and I’m a human that was possessed by a very evil spirit called a nogitsune. Oh! Mason is a chimera that was the host of the Beast of Gévaudan that was raised from the dead by three Dread Doctors.”

“What the hell Stiles!” You yelled, “They’re the Winchesters! Might as well finished what you started!”

Despite the sarcasm Stiles did just that. He started from when Scott was turned all the way through the history of the pack until just before you had teleported here. The Winchesters simply began shifting towards the trunk of the Impala where all the weapons were at. Y/N noticed and zapped herself in front of it.

“Our pack protects the town. It’s only bringing supernatural creatures there because we jumpstarted the Nemeton again.” Stiles shrugged. You pinched the bridge of your nose in disbelief of the boy that was throwing the town under the bus.

“We’re called the McCall pack. The only time that we’ve hurt someone was when Scott turned Liam during the time the Benefactor was the enemy. He only turned him as it was the only way to save the freshman, he was falling to his death when he was in the hospital for a broken leg. He had been dragged to the roof by a wendigo that was killed by an assassin. We follow a life rule where we only injure never kill.”

“Though we’re not entirely sure if we killed Theo or not. He was dragged through the floor by his dead sister.” Stiles said thinking about it. You face palmed as the boy continued to speak as if the pack wouldn’t be hunted now.

“Stiles…these are famous hunters. They don’t rest until we die and everyone knows that the Winchesters get the job done no matter the cost.” You crossed your arms.

“Not to mention when we-”

“SHUT UP STILES!” You screamed. Stiles stopped his rambling noticing how bad the situation had gotten. He mouthed oh shit as he saw the way the Winchesters were creeping towards you in small, nearly unnoticeable, steps. Within seconds Dean has pushed you away while Sam swiftly opened the trunk of revealed a menagerie of weapons.

“You’re gonna take us to your pack.” Dean growled, “And we’ll put you down.” You craned your neck to see Sam holding up a large gun that would most definitely kill you without a doubt. In that moment you glared at Stiles.

“I’m going to kill you.”

You were in the backseat of the impala next to Stiles thinking of ways you could murder the teen even while your wrist was connected to the door. Dean and Sam were up front listening to music that shadowed the conversation from you and Stiles. Stiles peaked at you from the corner of his eye before shuffling his hand closer to yours, when his pinkie brushed yours you pulled your hand closer to your body.

“Don’t.” You coldly spoke to the other teen.

“I’m sorry.” Stiles murmured to you.

“You’ve massively fucked up.” You grunted glancing out of the corner of your eye.

“Tele-“ You cut Stiles off by wrapping your finger around his and focusing clearing on Scott before you flashed out of the back of the impala.

“Oh thank god.” Stiles moaned collapsing into Scott’s arms.

“What the hell happened?” Scott questioned the two of you in different states of emotions. You were beyond pissed while Stiles was relieved.

“We ran into the Winchesters when I teleported us away from the enemy. He turned into a gotten faucet about the supernatural and our part in it.” You hissed at the mole speckled boy, “I don’t care that the Winchesters were gorgeous specimens of the human race, they are ruthless hunters.”

“Stiles.” Scott groaned shaking his head, “We really need to have an intervention with you.”

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[did-you-even-make-a-sound]

Can you write the Connor x Internet friend! Reader as a fanfic. I would love it if you did.

Message Me || Connor Murphy x Reader (PART 1 OF 5)

requested : yep prompt: n/a pairing : connor murphy x reader warnings : suicide plan mention additional notes : reader is female, based off of a Connor X Internet friend reader headcanon by @watch-the-whole-world-disappear, they meet on tumblr, connor runs an Edgy™ Aesthetic Blog, WHICH I RUN BTW, NOT THAT THERES ANYTHING ON IT YET BUT YEAH FOLLOW ME AT @connor-fvckng-mvrphy lmao it’s a Connor roleplay blog

Bored. Bored. Bored.

Bored is such a boring word. In this moment, you’ve never heard a word that describes you so much.

You scroll listlessly through your tumblr, liking random images and quotes from this one aesthetic blog that you follow. Your eyes wander, not that you’re finding anything interesting, until you come across an interesting poem.   

dark-aesthetic🔃connor-fvckng-mvrphy 

I have to get this off my chest before I straighten every crooked object offensive clutter distraction OCD nervous as fuck I’ll pull out every hair or tear my fingers off If I don’t figure out how to look in your eyes without screaming

I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I can’t remember anything before you I can’t imagine anything without you I want to live the rest of my life with you

But only if you think I’m cool We should just kill ourselves

‘Interesting,' You think, 'Edgy, but very interesting.’

This guy (girl? other?) seems interesting. Relatable. You click on their name, intrigued.

At one click, you fall in love with the account. You follow on first sight.

According to his bio, his name is Connor and he’s seventeen. His posts consist of black-and-white photos of chipped nail-polish, of pale wrists with even paler scars zigzagged across the stick-thin appendage. Quotes by Poe, little poems like the first one you read. 

He’s tortured, you know. But you can’t bring yourself to message him, like the little stalker you are.

Hours of pouring over his account turn into days, days into weeks, until finally you have been an avid fan of his for a month. 

And then it all comes crashing down.

One day, you refresh your page, bored, and there’s a new post from him. Literally must have been posted not even a minute ago. 

connor-fvcking-mvrphy 

this is not going to be a great week or year or life or anything inbetween i thought for a millisecond that i had found a friend a kindred spirit but you fucking tore it up

fuck you, E.H. your friend too go ahead and laugh laugh all you want but will you be laughing when the school shooter is dead?

goodbye

You’re worried.

This poem…was not like the others.

This was angry. This was raw. This was…this was real.

You bite your lip. Your eyes flick down to the tags.

#suicide plan #goodbye

Shit. Your eyes widen and you click on your inbox, typing in a message frantically

you hi I know you don’t know me but I just saw the tags on your newest poem and im freaking out please please don’t kill yourself I’m sorry it’s just your poems are really relatable and help me a lot and i feel like I’ve gotten to know you through them and oh my god you probably think I’m so creepy I’m so sorry

You wait, terrified, for a response.

One minute.

Two minutes.

Three,

four,

five.

There is no answer, and you bury your head in your pillow and try not to cry. You can’t help it, your shoulders shake with wracking sobs. You probably failed at saving this guy, you failed so bad. You suck, oh god, you suck.

After another five minutes of sobbing, you hear a loud ding from your phone, and you blearily stare at the screen through unshed tears.

connor-fvckng-mvrphy im flattered I didn’t realise that somebody actually read my poems or my tags or cared or…

You gasp in relief, fingers tap-tap-tapping out a reply. 

you OH thank god I thought that you had… Are you okay?? thats a stupid question omg I'm sorry

connor-fvckng-mvrphy im fine actually…i feel much better. thanks for, you know. caring.

you Anytime! I’m [y/n] btw

connor-fvckng-mvrphy connor

you i know thats creepy oh my god;sorry

connor-fvckng-mvrphy it’s fine ig I mean it is in my bio so??? its chill

you :)

connor-fvckng-mvrphy so this might sound weird but ???? you’re…pretty cool. i just looked over your account and wanted to know well you know want to talk more???

you wow im??? Really???

connor-fvckng-mvrphy yeah i mean you helped me there,,,like a lot,,,

you id love to !!!!

You talked almost every day. When you got down to it…he was a sweetheart. He was kind. He got you.

connor-fvckng-mvrphy do you think, like… well ever get to meet each other?? imean you’re a really great friend now and??? id like to meet you.

you i wish but we live like eight hours away from each other…

connor-fvckng-mvrphy ill drive to you!

you calm down, connor…lmao we don’t want you burning out on the way

connor-fvckng-mvrphy :( I don’t even know what you look like…

you i don’t know what you look like either! XD

connor-fvckng-mvrphy shit well if I send you a picture of me will you do the same?

you sure ig

connor-fvckng-mvrphyme.jpg my sister took the photo so,,,

you WHOA YOU’RE SO PRETTY WTF I THINK IM IN LOVE

connor-fvckng-mvrphy id prefer handsome but I’ll take it your turn, missy.

you hnnghhh okaybewarnedIlooklikeapotato.jpg

connor-fvckng-mvrphy … holy shit

you bad???

connor-fvckng-mvrphy YOU’RE SO FUCKING CUTE??? WHAT THE FUCK THAT SHOULD BE ILLEGAL IM-

you no no no I am definitely not wtf you need your eyes checked?

connor-fvckng-mvrphy no way you’re fucking adorable i think /I’m/ in love you cute lil motherfucker

 connor-fvckng-mvrphy we should swap phone numbers

you and skype??

connor-fvckng-mvrphy fuck yeah

you oKay !!! im [skype/name] and my number is [number]

connor-fvckng-mvrphy my Skype is the same as my tumblr and my phone number is XXXX XXXXXX

you saved and I just texted you too :)

connor-fvckng-mvrphy 'hi Connor!!!!’ with a bunch of happy emojis? dude you’re just,,, thats really fucking cute

you wh y???? do you keep calling me cute I’m???

connor-fvckng-mvrphy because, as it turns out, i have a really cute best friend

you best friend?? awww connor!!!

connor-fvckng-mvrphy yeah yeah you’re literally all I have, [y/n]

you you’re my best friend too!! i really wish i could meet you…

connor-fvckng-mvrphy  me too…hold on a sec

you connor??? you okay???

connor-fvckng-mvrphy my sister just walked in and was being a dick, being nosy about who I’m talking to and not believing that it was a friend. She thinks I’m talking to my dealer. i fucking hate her sometimes

you do you?

connor-fvckng-mvrphy …no but she thinks I do. It’s easier to let her.

you *internet hug*

connor-fvckng-mvrphy Fuck…that’s cute.

 As time went on, you found yourself more and more drawn to Connor. His photos could always make you smile, and nothing brightened up a shitty day more than clicking on his Skype name and watching him answer a video call, smiling dopily at the camera.

And also as time went on…you slowly began to realise why.

You were in love with him. 

Fuck, you were in love with a guy eight hours away. A guy that you had never met in real life. What do you do?

…You continue pining for him over a distance, of course.

You watch yourself in the screen, waiting for Connor to pick up the Skype call. Soon enough, he does, and his grinning face fills the screen.

“Hey, [y/n].” He greets sleepily - it’s like, midnight over there - and rests his chin on his hands.

“Heya.” You wave at the camera, grinning sheepishly and a little shyly. The thrill of actually seeing him rather than just a message still gets you.

“It’s almost Valentine’s Day, huh?”

“Yep! Any special girl that you had in mind?” You ask, a hopeful smile plastered on your face.

“No, well…actually…” He furrows his brow, and your heart drops.

“Is she pretty?” You ask, concealing your jealousy. You could be there for him.

“She’s cute. Like, really fucking cute.” Connor says, watching you carefully.

Truth be told, Connor felt the same way. He was absolutely crazy about you, but he didn’t want to ruin this adorably heartwarming friendship you had.

To wake up and have no more *internet hug* messages or cute little reminders…it’d ruin his life. You were absolutely the only thing keeping him going.

You talked for ages, until it was about 2:30 on his end. Before long, he was getting tired. 

“I should go soon.” He says drowsily. 

“Mmmm.” You don’t want him to go. “Night, Con.”

“G'night.” He yawns. “Love you.”

You freeze. He freezes and hurriedly leaves the video chat.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Connor slams his head on his desk, pissed off. “I fucked up. I fucked up.” He mumbles.

A small chime comes from his computer and he bites his lip, glancing reluctantly at the screen.

you i love you too!!!!

[kate-writes-fluff]

If you're still doing dialogue prompts? 160? For whatever you want?

160.  [text] Who says no to sex and donuts?!

When I saw this, I thought of Jean, so @tiggeryumyumm I decided to work in your Valentine’s day themed jeanmarco in the same prompt.

Sorry for the wait!  I’ve been fighting some real writer’s block.

Jean: Who says no to sex and donuts?!

Eren: just bc i work at a bakery doesn’t mean u can take advantage of it

Jean: I just thought it would sweeten the deal ;)

Eren: obviously it didn’t work

Jean: T-T

Eren: considering how thin the walls are in our apartment, i’m grateful for ur lackluster flirting skills

Jean: …. Rude

Jean locks his phone and sighs as lets himself into their apartment.  It’s only 5 a.m., about a half hour after the Wings of Freedom closes for the night and therefore way too early in the morning to deal with Eren’s teasing.  Jean drags his feet as he makes his way to his cluttered bedroom, exhausted from both his most recent rejection and a long night of wiping down tables at the bar.  He simply throws his uniform–which chronically reeks of alcohol–into a corner of the room as he strips, not even bothering to throw on pajamas before he flops into bed and promptly falls asleep.

Hours later he’s ripped away from a pleasant dream about a handsome stranger with plump kissable lips and warm, welcoming arms by an annoying buzzing noise uncomfortably close to his ear.  Jean groans as he fumbles, finally finding his phone underneath his pillow with the display lit up with a new message.  Part of him wants to ignore it, but he knows that if Eren pities him enough he might offer to bring him food–but only if he replies before he changes his mind.

Turns out, the text is from Eren, but it’s a picture of a flyer with no words attached.  He can’t help but groan as he taps the image to enlarge it and squint at the tiny, pixelated words his brain isn’t awake enough to comprehend yet.

“Valentine’s Meet Up,” it says in a curly romantic font.  “Hang out with other singles and donate your time to brighten someone’s day.  Make friends and meet someone new.”

Before Jean can think of a coherent response, though “what the fuck” would probably be a decent enough answer, Eren texts him again.

Eren:  i signed u up

Jean: whyyyyy?

Eren: bc ur single +whiney + u have a day off on 2/14

         also ur a romantic loser so i know ur gonna be extra whiney on V day

Jean: ….

Eren:  u kno im right. Accept it

Jean:  i only read this text b/c i thought you were offering me food

Eren:  if i bring u a donut will u stop complaining

Jean: its a start

Eren: i hate u

Jean puts his phone on his dresser and sighs happily as he relaxes back into his pillow, looking forward to the treat his roommate will inevitably bring him.

Jean makes good on his promise and doesn’t complain about the singles anonymous meeting Eren has signed him up for.  Though he makes sure to give his roommate the stink eye when he finds out that he has holiday plans of his own.

“If you’re hanging out with Mikasa and Armin, then why couldn’t you just let me tag along?”  Jean whines, turning to give his roommate the most pitiful expression he can muster from beside him on their lumpy clearance-sale couch.

Eren doesn’t bother to look up from his phone as he promptly answers, “Because you would spend the whole day complaining and flirting with my sister.”

“Not true!  I might flirt with Armin too,” Jean flutters his eyelashes as Eren groans, turning away from him to finish texting his sister about their plans.

“Yeah, like I want to make my sister and my best friend uncomfortable all day.”

“But you’ll let your sister crash your date with your crush.”

“It’s not a date!”  Eren exclaims despite his bright pink cheeks.

“But Armin is your crush?”  Jean laughs as he reaches out to playfully ruffle his roommate’s hair, an attempt that costs him an elbow in the side.

“I hate you,” Eren groans.

“Then get your own Netflix,” Jean suggests, switching windows on his computer away from the website in question to check his email.  He makes a point to delete his junk mail as slowly as possible, just to rile up his roommate even more.  After about ten excruciatingly long minutes he’s about to give in and start the episode of Stranger Things when a new email pops up in his inbox.

“It’s for that Valentine’s thing,” Jean remarks, catching Eren’s attention.  He crowds over Jean’s shoulder to watch as he opens the message.

Dear Mr. Kirstein,

Thank you for expressing interest in helping to set up and organize the Valentines Meet Up event.  Would you mind meeting me at the bakery to discuss planning details?

Thanks,

Marco Bodt

There’s a moment of silence as they stare blankly at the polite message before Jean pointedly glares over his shoulder.  “Eren!  I thought you signed me up for the event, not the planning committee!!”

“Whoops,” Eren shrugs and leans back into his own spot on the couch, giving his roommate the space he needs to properly fume.

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” Jean accuses, narrowing his eyes into an even harsher glare.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  Eren turns his attention back to his phone, pointedly avoiding further eye-contact as he resumes texting.  Jean puffs his cheeks angrily, unsure whether the avoidance is a sign of guilt or exactly how little Eren cares about the situation.

“… That’s it, we’re watching Hart of Dixie.”

“No!” Eren exclaims, dropping his phone in his lap as he finally returns eye contact.

“If you signed me up to be a romantic sap for the full week until Valentine’s day, well then I’m going to start now.”

Eren groans but shifts in his seat to see the screen better.  “It’s not even romantic, they’re just idiots for the sake of drama.”

Though Jean agrees with him there, he can’t help but roll his eyes at the remark.  “You can complain when you have an actual love-life, Mr. I’m-in-love-with-my-bff-but-I’m-too-scared-to-say-anything.”

“Says the chronic single,” Eren bites back, digging his elbow into a ticklish spot in Jean’s side, making the other man squirm.  “I hope you meet someone at the stupid event so you’re too busy being stupid and in love to bother me anymore.”

“You and me both.  Watching you guys flirt is more excruciating than watching Zoe and Wade go back and forth.”

Eren grumbles profanities under his breath for several minutes before he angrily remarks, “Are you going to start the show or not?”

Jean sighs as his alarm goes off at 11 a.m. the next day.  Working nights means that on a normal day, he tends to sleep through the afternoon.  But thanks to Eren, he has plans to meet the event guy at the bakery that cut his much-needed sleep short.

The night before had been a long, tiring day and even as he wakes up he still feels tired and listless, barely able to keep his eyes open.  Maybe if he was more awake, he would have put the effort into dressing for a first impression.  But the fact is, he’s simply too tired to care.  So he slips into a pair of sweatpants and a flannel shirt, not even bothering to comb his hair before he shoves his shoes onto his feet and stumbles out the door.

Eren’s wiping down the counter when he arrives at the Braus’ bakery.  As Jean slumps against the customer side of the counter, Eren shoots him a distasteful look.  “Really, not even an effort?”  

Jean finds enough effort to roll his eyes.  “Give me the sugar I need to get through this.”

Eren grunts an affirmative as he reaches into the display case to pull out a raspberry filled donut.  As Jean pulls out his wallet to begrudgingly pay–though this is all his roommate’s fault, he knows better than asking him to pay too often–Eren nods toward one of the front tables.  “Marco’s here already.”

As Jean turns to find the person he’s meeting, he suddenly wishes he had bothered to look in a mirror before he left the apartment.  Dressed in a spotless lilac button-down and steam-pressed gray slacks, the man looks as put together as Jean isn’t.  But by this point, Jean is just too tired to even think about running back to his apartment to scrounge up an outfit that looks half decent.  Though he does quickly finger-comb his hair before he slides into the chair opposite the man.

“Hi!  Are you Jean?”  The man smiles brightly at his approach, making Jean regret his clothing choices all over again.  Because that dimpled smile single-handedly makes his heart clench and his hands start to sweat.  Though the freckles across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose certainly make the expression far more endearing than anything larger than a baby animal should ever be.  In contrast, Jean can almost feel the bags under his eyes and wonders what the stranger thinks about the hot mess he regrettably is.

“Yeah.” Jean does his best to smile politely, though it falls short.  His cheeks feel stiff and his flirting muscles are not quite awake enough to throw out his usual charms.  “Are we waiting for anyone else?”  He takes a moment to look around the shop and though there are few people getting breakfast to go, there aren’t many people milling around.

“No… you’re the only volunteer.”  Marco threads his fingers around his coffee cup and looks crestfallen for a moment before he smiles again.  “Let’s start brainstorming, shall we?” he suggests as he pulls out a small spiral notebook and a pen.

“Um, sure.  What do you have in mind?”

Marco eagerly flips the page in his notebook, revealing rows upon rows of neat handwriting and messy doodles and diagrams.  “I’m so glad you asked.”

The following week is the busiest Jean’s had in years.  Whenever he turns around, he’s making bright colored paper chains or folding squares of paper and cutting out paper shapes, filling his and Eren’s apartment with boxes upon boxes of decorations.  Whenever Jean gets ready for work, he can hear Eren stumbling and cursing over the new boxes that appear while he’s out of the apartment.  It would be funnier if Jean didn’t trip over the damn things himself, too.

The highlight of all the paper toil is that Marco is loathe to make him work alone.  During the week, they meet up at the bakery at noon, where Marco spends his lunch break away from the library decorating the place with him.  (Jean makes a mental note to pay the local library a visit someday soon.)

Even after spending so much time together, Jean doesn’t find himself tiring of Marco.  In fact, with each day he looks forward to every time he leaves to return to work, Jean finds himself actually looking forward to the next day even more.  Marco is just as charming as he was the first day they met, cheerful, creative, and fun.  

Unwilling to repeat the embarrassment of their first meeting, Jean’s careful to pick the best outfits in his closet for their afternoon meetings.  He can’t help but blush the day Marco compliments a shirt ornamented with an iron-on transfer of one of his own art prints.

Jean has always been one to preen over compliments, but the sheer sincerity in Marco’s voice and smile as he gives them is enough to fluster him every time.  Halfway through the week, Jean realizes that his attraction for Marco is slowly growing more than skin-deep.  That day, Marco laughs cheerfully at even the shittiest of his puns–a quip about Eren being the real breadwinner in their roommate relationship because bussing tables doesn’t exactly set the bar high–and Jean softens.

By the weekend, Jean finally finds the guts to invite Marco over, so they can watch movies while they create card supplies.  Marco brings takeout and they eat together on his lumpy couch.  When Jean watches tv with Eren, they have no qualms about personal space, throwing arms and legs into the lap of the other at a whim because they’ve learned not to care about boundaries after years of living together.  Here, with Marco, Jean is fully aware of just how small the sofa is and just the barest brushing of skin against skin is enough to make him jittery.  

Marco doesn’t seem to mind his nervousness, too busy laughing at the antics of the characters of The Grand Budapest Hotel and flashing smiles Jean’s way when a particularly funny line is spoken.  Jean confides that he’s an aspiring artist working at the bar only to make money in the meantime, so Marco makes an effort to point out the parts he finds visually inspiring.  He enjoys the pastel color palettes–strikingly similar to the colors of his dress shirts– and cheerfully taps Jean’s knee to point out the most brightly colorful scenes.  (He likes the pinks of the Mendl’s boxes the most.)

At nine o’ clock, Marco needs to leave and Jean has to get dressed for another night working the bar.  As Jean locks the door behind them, Marco hesitates for a moment, twisting his fingers together.  “I’ve heard that In the Mood for Love is a really visually interesting movie too.  And I’ve been dying to see it,” he remarks off-handedly, looking down the hall at the flickering lights instead of at Jean.

“Sounds cool,” he says, words that seem like the understatement of the century.  

For the first time ever, he smiles through his whole shift at work.

“Do you guys have to come flirt at my workplace every day?”  Eren asks on February 13th.  “It’s sorta gross.”

Jean’s ears warm but he scoffs at the question, “We are not flirting.  He just happens to actually appreciate my jokes.  Unlike some people.”  

Eren snorts.  “The only way he’d find you funny is if he has a crush.”  He leans against the oven door casually, enjoying watching Jean squirm with embarrassment for once.

Jean huffs in retaliation, “Less talking, more baking.  If we’re doing to decorate cookies tomorrow, we need cookies.”

Finally it’s the night of Valentine’s day and Jean’s nervous.  All their hard work is on display, hung up around the bakery, decorating it with reds and pinks from head to toe.  Trays of fresh cookies are ready to decorate and paper pieces are prepared for cards.

The cheerfully colored donation boxes are set up in the front of the room, listing the names of local hospitals and orphanages that are accepting cards.  The slogan “Give a card, give a smile,” hangs on a banner directly behind the boxes.

Sugary sweet pop music starts playing as Marco returns from the sound system, setting up a themed playlist from his phone.  Jean tries not to stare at the pink tie the man has on–the same color as the Mendl’s boxes in the movie they had seen together.

“It’s almost time,” Marco smiles, threading his fingers together restlessly.  “People should start arriving anytime now.”  The air between them seems charged with anxious restlessness.  Suddenly, in their last moments alone together it hits Jean that once the day is over, once they clean up the bakery, they’ll lose their excuses to see each other.

It doesn’t really matter that over the course of the week, Jean has learned that Marco’s favorite color is teal and that Persuasion is his favorite Jane Austen novel.  That Marco didn’t tease him when Jean confided that his favorite childhood movie was The Princess Bride.  It doesn’t matter that Jean showed Marco his art portfolio and the other man enthusiastically admired it, saying that if he ever finished writing his book he’d love to commission him to design the cover.

Once the event is done, they no longer have a reason to spend so much time together.

The shop bell rings and people start arriving, forcing the two men to separate and socialize, doing their best to keep the mingling running as smoothly as possible.  (Honestly, Jean hates this sort of thing, but after all the work they had done, he can’t weasel his way out of chaperoning a bunch of adults for a night.)

Regardless of how busy Jean finds himself throughout the night, his eyes always wander to the other side of the room where Marco is cheerfully chatting with other cute single people.  

He’s busy staring instead of paying attention to the card making tables when a young woman with wavy auburn hair whistles at him.  “Yo loverboy.  This is the wrong place to stand around being lovesick,” she chides, carelessly wiping cookie crumbs off her fingers.  “Sit down, make a card.  You’ll fit in with all the unhappy singles that way.”  She grabs a sheet of cardstock out of the pile and quickly scribbles something on it before handing it over.

It messily reads “Ur hot freckleface” above a hand-drawn heart that looks remarkably like a butt.

“See, it’s half done now.”

Jean sighs but sits down to work on fix the card she started.  He grabs a pink paper heart that’s just barely large enough to cover her unromantic words.  As he glues it down, he can’t help but notice that it’s the same shade as Marco’s tie and that thought convinces him to hazard a glance over at him.  The tall man is busy chatting and working on decorating his own cookies, even as he oversees others.

It wouldn’t hurt to make my own, I guess, he muses, searching through the box of children’s markers to find a color he likes.  It’s been years since he’s made anyone a hand-made valentine.  The only friend that might appreciate one would be Armin–the most sentimental out of the group–, though Eren would definitely change the wifi passwords for that sort of “personal offence.”

After an hour, Jean and Marco switch stations; Jean overseeing the decorations of the last batch of cookies while Marco helps with the cards.  Jean slides his own card into the back pocket of his jeans, unwilling to let his newfound friend even guess toward his intentions yet.

Finally, two hours after it started, people begin to leave, many of them in small groups as they chat and exchange phone numbers.  Even the woman who “helped” Jean with his card is cheekily hanging off the arm of a stern-faced young man.  She whispers something in his ear and his cheeks flare red before she turns back to wink at Jean as they leave the building.

The floor is covered in cookie crumbs, sprinkles, and paper scraps that will be a pain to clean-up, but even so Marco still smiles.  “Looks like a success.  People walked in alone, but they’re leaving with friends.”

Jean’s card feels like a weight in his pocket and he has to concede that yeah, it really seems like a success.  

They take their time cleaning, taking away all the little sugary clues that they’d been there, that they’d prepared for a whole week over it.  Jean’s smile falls as he returns to his earlier train in thought:  that their reason for spending time together is quickly falling away as they sweep up the mess.

“Cheer up, Jean.  The night’s still young,” Marco laughs, taking a moment to turn up the speakers.  Cascada’s “Everytime We Touch” blares, bringing back memories of youtube videos Jean forgot watching.

“Where’d you find this?  What year do you think it is?  2007?”  

The music becomes a palpable presence in the room, especially as Marco begins singing along, dancing with his broom as he sweeps.  Jean cracks a smile as he laughs, leaning into the table he was in the midst of cleaning for support.  He’s laughing so hard that he doesn’t notice Marco’s approach until he leans the broom against his table.

“Mind dancing with me?  That broom is just too stiff and wooden.”  Marco holds his palm upwards, like a prince asking for a dance in the ball of a fairytale, not in an empty bakery that looks like it was ransacked by preschoolers on a sugar-high.

“I can’t dance.”  Jean waves his hands in refusal, but Marco’s grin only widens.

“Neither can I.”

Finally, Jean gives in and reaches out to hold onto Marco’s shoulders as the other man leads him around the room.  They trip and stumble on chairs they hadn’t put away yet, but they only laugh in the face of their own clumsiness, each mistake bringing their bodies even closer together.

The song ends and something slower and mellower replaces it.  Jean can feel his pulse pounding but it’s hard to be embarrassed about it when he can feel the beat of Marco’s own heart from where their chests are touching.  

“I’m not looking for somebody with some superhuman gifts.  Some superhero, some fairytale bliss.

Just something I can turn to, somebody I can kiss.”

Marco smiles breathlessly, his lips barely inches from Jean’s, and suddenly it feels a little too close and intimate, so Jean takes a step back to pull the card out of his pocket.  It’s more than a little crumpled around the edges from their romp around the shop, but Jean finds himself passing it over anyway.  It just seems… fitting.

The card is brightly colored and framed with paper hearts, but on the front it simply reads “Thanks” in Jean’s best penmanship.  Marco’s face falls a little as he looks at it, so Jean hurries to explain himself as he opens it.  “I wanted to thank you for setting this all up, because it really turned out to be a lot of fun.  And mostly because I got to meet you.  And I hope you don’t mind if I ask, but I’d really like to keep hanging out, even though Valentine’s day is over….”

Marco cuts him off with a gentle hand on his own.  “I’d really like that…  But you know, Valentine’s day isn’t over quite yet….  And there’s no one I’d rather spend it with than you.”

Jean’s cheeks burn brightly as Marco retrieves a small plastic bag from where it’s lying forgotten on the counter:  a cookie decorated with a heart and Jean spelled in pretty cursive.

They have a whole lot of cleanup left to do, but Jean really can’t bring himself to mind.  Even if he had to stay there all night, picking up each and every crumb individually with his bare fingers, he’d willingly do it if Marco would keep looking at him the way he is now, like he’s been the highlight of the night.

But the night’s still young, of course.  And if they want to watch In the Mood for Love and kiss on Jean’s couch, then they need to finish cleaning.

[ezzydean]

IDK IF UR TAKING FIC PROMPTS RN LIKE FEEL FREE TO IGNORE THIS BUT CLD U DO A SEIKISUSOU KNIGHT AU??? IDK WHY I SUDDENLY REALLY NEED THIS PAIRING TO BE A THING,,, ESP IN A KNIGHT AU WHERE THEY FIERCELY PROTECT EACH OTHER IN BATTLE IDK IM SORRY

I really have no idea how long this has been here in my inbox.  But I am finally getting around to doing some of my 20+ prompts again.  Thank you for this and don’t be surprised if this au pops up again cause if there is one thing I love it’s ships whose members battle side by side and kick ass together and fiercely protect each other.

also SeiKisuSei

(it’s about 1300 words so don’t forget to check under the cut)

“I’ve told you a million times,” Seijuurou hisses through his teeth as he blocks yet another attack.  They’re not very precise attacks but they hit hard and he’s growing wearier by the blow.  “Stay out of danger.”

“You’re so dramatic.  It hasn’t been a million times.”  Kisumi spins on his heel and slams his palm against an armor clad soldier’s chest plating, grinning wickedly when it turns molten under his fingers and melts into the enemy’s chest, sending him to his knees in howling pain.  “Maybe fifteen.  This week,” he adds as he ducks under a spear and launches a bolt of white hot fire at the man who threw it.

Sousuke sweeps in then, shield bashing enemies left and right until he reaches them.  He takes one look at Seijuurou’s sweaty face and Kisumi’s wild eyes and lets out a groan of disgust.

“The rest of the troops have wiped out their rear guards and archers all that’s left is for us to clean up this lot.”

Kisumi looks over the group of enemies spread out around them, far fewer than he expected really, and grins.

“Leave it to me.”

He sucks in a deep breath and everything around them grows grey, Kisumi’s magic sucking the very color out of the world as he plucks and twists and pulls the threads only he among them can sense.  The hair on Sousuke’s neck stands up and he braces his shield against the ground, readying himself for the slaughter.  Seijuurou’s eyes slip shut and he leans his back against Sousuke’s.

The metallic taste in the air and the sizzle that wrenches through their very bones haunts Seijuurou for weeks.

Kisumi, Sousuke thinks, is far too charming even on a bad day, completely charismatic on a good day, and downright dangerous no matter the day.  He tried to explain one time that he and Seijuurou just worry about him and want to keep him out of harm’s way; harm’s way which finds Kisumi with an accuracy that is unnerving and a persistence that would wear down the most patient of saints and Kisumi revels in it.  Kisumi had told him that he just likes hitting people and watching their faces light on fire and that he is very good at what he does and doesn’t need them to worry about him so much.

“Watch your own asses instead of mine,” he had joked.  “The last thing I need is to lose either of you because you’re too worried about me.”  Then he had buried his talented fingers in Sousuke’s short hair and pulled him into a kiss that made him forget what they were talking about in the first place for awhile.  He still holds Kisumi’s slender frame tight against his broad chest that night, still traps Kisumi in a tight embrace that makes the mage smile and nuzzle against Sousuke’s throat.

The battle had not been one of the better outcomes.  Seijuurou’s small unit of the… not really main brigade material members and their sudden arrival thanks to one of Nanase’s hunches had been the only thing that had really kept their casualties from reaching one hundred percent.

He looks around at the numerous medic tents set up, knowing that each one had far too many wounded and far too few medics, and pinches the bridge of his nose.  Sometimes he wonders just what the hell they’re all doing here.  If he was a smarter man he would take his unit, take the only thing of his family he has, and head into the woods at the base of the mountains.  Kisumi wraps a cool hand around the back of his neck and he looks into purple eyes that hold the mysteries of the night sky and the wonders of the sea and everything in between.

“Oh thank the gods a mage,” a nearby medic interrupts them and Seijuurou pulls himself out of oblivion and shutters his expression.  There’s no need to shoot the already frazzled medic a look of irritation that would only make his life even harder.  “We’ve got tons of wounded soldiers that need help.”Kisumi glances down at his light battlemage armor - which is really just normal light armor that he’s pieced together himself and modified over the last year - and then looks around.  Looks behind himself and then over Seijuurou’s shoulder.  Then looks back at the medic with wide eyes and points to himself.

“Me?”  Seijuurou has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from snorting.  Especially when the medic nods eagerly and tries to reach for Kisumi’s elbow to lead him towards the nearest medic tent.  Kisumi waves his hands in the air easily avoiding the man’s touch.  “Oh no no no.  Yeah no.  I’m a mage but I’m more of a death and destruction, light stuff on fire kind of guy.”  He wiggles his fingers around and makes a few grand gestures.  “Not a set broken bones and do the glowy healing thing kind of mage.”  He grimaces and shudders a little, licking his lips like he just tasted something horrible and lingering.

“He once got a splinter in his finger and cried for two hours because it hurt.  He’s really not who you’re looking for.”  Seijuurou smiles apologetically and urges Kisumi away from the medic with a hand on his lower back.

“You forget,” Kisumi whispers menacingly, “that I can knock you on your ass in less than five seconds in hand to hand combat without even a drop of magic.”

“Oh no.  I remember.”  Sousuke grins and hefts Kisumi over his shoulder.  Kisumi notices the flicker of discomfort on his face but is too focused on not letting Sousuke launch him into the icy lake to be able to say or do anything about it.  It’s time like these that he almost wishes he could do more than rain destruction down on fields.  That he could nurture and heal as well as he could maim and destroy.  His shrieks and curses ring out through the clearing as Sousuke keeps trying to throw him into the lake and he clings on for dear life and it only takes a minute for Seijuurou to stumble out of their tent, bleary eyed and sleep ruffled to watch the show.

“You two could be in the tent.  Warm and cuddling with me and this is what you’re doing instead?”

“He was having a crisis,” Sousuke explains.  “So he needed a wake up call.”

“Throwing me in a freezing lake is not a wake up call.”

Sousuke looks back and winks and Seijuurou who shuffles a few steps closer.  Then Sousuke rolls his shoulders and twists his arms and Kisumi is sailing through the air.  The water splashes dramatically as he hits the glassy surface, giant waves and sparkling mist flying up and just hanging in the air.  Kisumi is standing in the center of the main splash and glaring at Sousuke, eyes glittering dangerously through the water.

“You can do amazing things, Kisumi.  You’re not all death and destruction and fire,” Sousuke says softly.  He looks pointedly at the water slowly finishing its rise into the air and shifting back into gravity’s embrace.  It really is a beautiful sight.  Seijuurou is mesmerized by the light sparkling through the droplets hanging in the air and the slow ripple of the water from Kisumi’s feet and the equally sparkling light shining in Kisumi’s eyes and slow relaxation of his entire body.  Then everything shifts back into normal speed and Kisumi falls backwards into the water.

“I think you broke him.”  Seijuurou wraps his arms around Sousuke’s waist and buries his face between Sousuke’s shoulders.

“We’re all a little broken,” Sousuke replies.  Kisumi’s head pops back to the surface of the water and he blow bubbles petulantly until he runs out of breath.  Then he submerges his head and pops up right away, shaking water from his hair as he wades back to shore.  “That’s what makes us work together so well.”Kisumi plucks at his soaked shirt and grumbles at them about it until Sousuke sighs dramatically and offers to help him remove it.

[karmaepx19500930-blog]

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Skimming through all the replies was tiring but I sent a reply to a few. I wasnt looking for anything in particular but I posted a personals ad looking for friends. His response was short but sweet. I met him off Craigslist. ding My inbox chimed as I received notification of a new email. I was bored and I needed entertainment. I know what its like to work the hours that you do and how hard it can be for you to meet someone to connect with.

- A" I felt a genuine vibe from the message so I responded back in a positive and upbeat manner. By no means am I a prude but I wasnt looking for anything more than friends. You seem like a cool guy. Tell me something about you. I hope you give me a chance, you wont regret it. Ive probably scanned over 50 some emails hoping there was someone who wasnt so forthcoming with their body parts or with their vulgar language. - W" I clicked send without another thought. "Hey, I saw you post and I promise I read the whole thing and I can definitely say most of it is also true for myself. Looking forward to hearing from ya! I swear I wasnt a lame person but sometimes its nice to get a little attention. I just wanted someone to talk to. I continued my sad night of browsing the internet hopelessly. Im a down to earth guy whos just looking to meet new friends as well. Maybe animal voiceovers would make my night a little better. I sighed but resigned to clicking the notice anyways. It was the same guy from before. Mind if we switch to texting? I havent had much luck so I thought to myself, what the hell lets go for it. Im trying something new and this kind of excites me and scares me at the same time. If you dont text me, Ill understand. I wasnt going to think too deeply into it. "I didnt think youd respond knowing how many guys you had to filter through to get to mine. Id like to get to know you. No expectations, no sexual acts, just simple or deep talks but clean fun. Not even 15 minutes later, I received another email notification. - A" He seemed too good to be true so I did the most sensible think I could think of: I sent him a text message. Right away, I told him I wasnt looking for anything sexual and he completely understood. He asked me if it would be crazy if we were to meet up tonight. He told me he missed a girl to shoot the shit with and be comfortable talking about anything with. " Hey, I found your email refreshing and genuine. He was literally the guy friend I was waiting for all my life. There are tons of creeps out there and I could be one of them. I looked at the time 10:30pm. It was late but I was in the mood of YOLO so I said yes and asked where to. I started to panic a little bit. We texted back and forth about our intentions, our favourite food, the hottest models. I opted for something casual: black jeans with a button down green and red accented plaid shirt. I got ready not knowing where we would end up. Promptly at 11:15pm, I received a text notifying me that he was here. I wore black combat boots to match the outfit. Not something that screamed lesbian but enough that he knew I was only in it for fun. I stepped out of house and I saw his car idling patiently as I locked softcore sex streaming the door. I hopped into his car with little hesitation. I didnt want to be judged for my methods of meeting people. I just thought it would be better this way. He was a short guy from the looks of it. "Hey yourself", he replied with a smile. I know its kinda crazy that Im giving out my number to a complete stranger but Im in the mood of " why the fuck not". He told he would pick me up in 45 minutes. He took off down the street and we started mandingo porn a light conversation. I grabbed my coat at headed out. Dark shirt and pants followed for the rest of his outfit. His face was shrouded in the darkness of the car and the night sky. He had soft features, plump lips, a strong jaw with no facial hair, his eyes were honey coloured, I found out later. Our conversation progressed fairly easily, moving from topic to topic. He didnt seem like the big ass latina porn other guys. We were completely honest with one another, or at least I was. Somehow along the way, he brought up sex related topics. I told my roommate I was headed out but didnt tell her with who. Even though he was a stranger I had just met off the internet not even 2 hours ago, I felt at ease with him. He was in a leather jacket, well worn but seemingly of good quality. I saw him glance at me a few times and I asked what was on his mind. Guys are interested in lesbian sex and all the fixings so I was willing to humour him for this evening. Spanish decent with short black hair, combed over one side. I laughed knowing that most men who have seen me in low cut shirts thought the same. strike one I waited for his response, tongue in cheek. I didnt want to give off that vibe but it just came out. "I couldn’t help but notice you have pretty big breasts", he said cheekily. Personally, I dont mind. I found conversation easy and fun. I saw out of the corner of my eye his eyes widened. I dont think he was expecting such a strong response. I considered telling him off for a split second but instead I accepted his challenge. I could see him get fidgety in the drivers seat as I continued. I got glimpses of him as we passed under street lamps. "I dare you to flash someone as we drive by. I looked down and saw my one button popping open, that little shitty one that sits in between your ladies and always refuses to stay closed. When I finished, my D breasts were exposed cupped securely in my Victoria Secret silky bra. His hand reached from its spot on the steering wheel to my bra clad chest. I slowly begun unbuttoning my shirt. I nodded and shot him a smile. It was big and one breast fit in his palm so nicely. My body felt the chill as soon as my nipple touched the cold air in his car. Something about the thrill and adrenaline rush got me going. He was visibly getting distracted and I was loving it. He caressed me with such gentleness and although this wasnt what I came here to find, I was enjoying his hands on me. He took my left hand and placed it on his crotch area. I joked that they wanted to come out and play too. I dont know what came over me but I let him. Slowly, I rubbed him through the denim fabric. ", he responded boldly. He turned into a neighbourhood and parked at a local baseball diamond that looked out onto the river. I could feel how hard he was in those tight pants. We got out of the car to stretch our legs and kind of cool things down a little bit. I held my jacket closed as my shirt was still unbuttoned. I could feel him struggling to keep his composure. It was late fall and the leaves had fallen all about the cement lot. He was getting more daring as he slipped a thumb under my bra and out popped by nipple as he raised the material. I then asked if this was where he brought girls at night to have his way with them. I had to admit, the view was really nice, overlooking the river and the lights from downtown reflected in the water. It was dark in the park except for the city buildings across the water and the moonlight shining down on us. God Damn, he whispered under his breath. I commented on how I had never been to this area of town before. We had been driving aimlessly around the city for the last hour and a half talking. His arms were strong, broad shoulders, muscular. We stopped in the middle of the baseball diamond and stood in silence. Naturally, it stood erect and soon he was rolling my hard nub between his thumb and forefinger. We jumped the wooden barrier from the parking lot to the grassy area. I could feel him grinding his hard member into my ass while his hands wandered up my body. I had my back to him as he slipped his arms around my waist. I exposed my neck as I tilted my head back resting on his shoulder. It wasnt really HIM that was doing it for me. He brought his body close to mine. He took the opportunity to place a kiss there. The combination of everything had my body in a sensory delight. strike two He laughed saying that this was where he comes to clear his head. This prompted him to kiss me in a more hungry manner. This situation had me turned on. His breathing was getting heavy right in my ear. I felt his finger dip into the folds of my pussy, slick with arousal. " I reached back and undid his belt buckle and jeans in a swift motion. My body started moving on its own accord, grinding against his crotch in sync with his movements. It felt thick and very hard. His hand found a way past the barrier of my jeans and was slowly descending towards my mound. I felt his hard cock through his silk boxers. He inhaled sharply and groaned as he exhaled followed by the words, "Fuck, youre so wet. I let out a soft moan. I began rubbing him on the outside of the material. Not too big and just the right size. I could feel a wet spot where his tip was leaking pre-cum. I found that to be super fucking hot and I felt my wetness starting to spread. He replaced his hand back into my pants, rubbing my clit with my own wetness. I was afraid the cold would cause him to lose his hardness but I was wrong. I needed to touch him, skin to skin. 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He began thrusting in my hand as I rocked my hips against his fingers. He looked down at me as I stared up at him with greedy eyes. He offered to find something in his car to clean up the mess but I politely declined. I told him Id ride home with it all over myself. He moaned such a sexy lustful moan and I felt it in my throbbing pussy. In response, I knelt down, exposed my breasts, pushing them together for a mandingo porn star like view. Without another word, I stood up and placed my bra back in place and closed up my shirt. I rubbed the sticky mess all over my breasts, making sure to cover each erect nipple with his cum. His legs almost gave out as he emptied himself all over my chest. With that look, he exploded his creamy load all over my luscious tits. He dick jumped at my words but he decided to put it away for next time.