#also the top left one isn’t mine

[three-headed-monster]

screencaps from the connor bedard livestream 09.07.24

[alnilaem]

a more fleshed-out version from the third prompt of this post of mine.

cw for emotional manipulation, breaking in, stalking, smut, babytrapping, and dubcon to be safe

simon riley/reader

-

Something is wrong. 

Your suitcase is halfway past the threshold of your front door, halfway past your new grave, when you notice the hum of salt and tobacco in the air. Discomfort licks your insides and binds to your skin so heavily that you begin to sweat. A tinny sound peals out as you rearrange your keys between your knuckles, clenching it, and step inside your flat. 

Your heels are at the foot of your shoe rack. Your coat isn’t where it’s supposed to be, crimped in a pool on the floor. Your framed photographs are all inched to the left—you know this because you committed their placement to your memory—because you feared this would happen.

Something is seriously, gravely wrong. 

You feel like you’re lost at sea. Dull-headed and impaired under the alluring melody of a blood-thirsty siren. Walking towards their call, your legs moving before your mind can, spit in the presentiment of fear the same way insects get caught in spiderwebs. Stuck, and about to be eaten.  

You trek further into your flat, following the telltale signs that someone has been here—is here. A general shift in air. The stench of stale herbs and metal. A trail of silt on your hardwood floors, that of which could only be caused by certain mud-clogged boots tracking into your flat.

Here, you pause. On the threshold of your kitchen. Your stomach turns inside out and if it weren’t for your ribs, your heart would have burst out of your chest. 

It’s like you’re walking on glass. Every thin sliver that pokes your skin, invading you, is a splinter of fear. And it also makes it so that you can’t walk away—you’re frozen in place, watching him above your stove, setting a kettle to boil. 

He hears your squeak. Simon turns around, cotton-plated in his civvies, and hums. 

“Welcome home, Love.” 

The moisture leaves your mouth and rushes to your eyes. A film of dew materialises on top of your waterline. It’s thick and pearlescent and clouds your vision, turns Simon into an incorporeal blob in your vision, turning him into a trick of your eyes that you hope will go away after you blink.

He doesn’t.

Instead, Simon rests himself against your kitchen counter. He crosses his tattooed arms over his chest, tilting his head, and bends his lips into an unseemly smile.

“How was your friend’s place?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Simon?” You try getting your anger across, but your voice betrays your emotions. It’s heavily distorted by fear, waning, so much so that it makes him blandly chuckle. Like he can smell the terror roiling off of you. Like he feeds from it.

“How did you get in?”

Simon shrugs. “I’ve got a copy of the key.” 

“I changed the damn locks.”

“I got new ones,” he says.

“We broke up.”

“You broke up with me,” Simon snarls. “When I was at my fuckin’ lowest. You broke up with me and I didn’t agree to tha’ shit.”

“Simon–” a gust of disbelief cuts your sentence short. You grip your hair at its roots, tugging it, twisting it, coiling your face in frustration. “Simon, you need to leave.”

“You’re talkin’ like that ‘cause you’re mad at me. Give it a few minutes, and you won’t be.”

“Are you fucking insane!?” You yell. You draw towards him and slam the kettle off the stove. “You broke into my flat!”

“I had a key,” Simon says. He steps towards you, bullying you backwards until the hind of your spine catches on the cold granite of your countertop. Until your back bends over it, Simon, looming over you. “I’ve always told you to use the deadbolt.”

You bite your lip. The blood sticking to the roof of your mouth isn’t as bitter as Simon’s eyes. His are cold, depthless. 

“Fuck off.”

Then, Simon flips. His expression shifts in a whirlwind of seconds. Now, his brunette eyebrows are pursed and his lips are pointed down. His head is ensconced on your neck, his shoulder suddenly laden with an invisible weight as he kittens into you.

“Just came ‘cause I wanted to talk…” he mumbles. “One a’ my men died on me yesterday. Got early R&R for it. Thought you’d be happy to see me...”

You’re motionless as Simon clemently begins kissing your neck. You split your hands on his chest and try shoving him away, but he doesn’t move. He’s as solid as rock. Pushing himself into you, grovelling into your sleek skin. 

A phantom chain is tightening around your throat. You don’t know what to say. You don’t know what you can say. You feel that with any words that poise themselves on your tongue, Simon won’t take kindly to. 

“Simon… I’m sorry for you. I really am,” you slip out from under him and step back. “But this isn’t the way to go about it. We’re adults. And I’m asking you to leave.”

Simon raises his head, lukewarm. He stares at you through his half-lidded eyes, breathing heavily, clenching his fist around the lip of your countertop. Thickly, you swallow. You fidget with your cardigan and hope it will offset the discomfort hanging in the air. Simon takes a deep breath, sucking it all up—the discomfort, the presentiment—and you expect his huffing to precede an explosive reaction, but it doesn’t come. He just slips himself off the island and turns around, quiet when he speaks.

“Yeah,” he hums. “My old man didn’t want anythin’ to do with me, so why should you?” 

Your eyes widen. Though you’ve spent so much time trying to bury it, trying to familiarise yourself with Simon’s sick gambits, a pang of guilt hits you hard.

“Don’t say things like that,” you point an accusing finger to his chest, “it isn’t fair.” 

“No, no,” he grumbles. “Makes sense, does’n’it? My old man walked out on me, so I should handle you walking out on me, too.”

Simon shudders with a long breath. He slaps his face into his hands, and it’s at this point, does your knee-jerk impulse to comfort him take hold of you. The last of your even-tempered brain screams at you—he’s trying to ply you with a humanised side of him, but that side died a long time ago—but you press forward and awkwardly bring him into your arms, patting him on the back. 

“Simon, I’m… sorry, okay?” He buries his head in your neck, nips at your skin. “I’m sorry.”

“Can’t you jus’ yell at me tomorrow?” He asks. Simon slips his hands into the depression of your waist, pulling you against his chest. Against the ever-rising tent of his jeans. 

Your mind protests, but Simon keeps you close. He stinks of sweat, impairing you with it, spinning you around and pushing you against the counter. 

“Simon–”

“Shhh,” he hums, catching his fingers on the hem of your leggings. “Y’said we can talk later. ’m tired, Love. Just need you right now.” 

Any protests rot on your tongue because the wind is knocked out of you as you’re folded over the counter. Simon’s hands travel, gripping every part of you, rekindling old bruises left behind and making space for new ones. 

He ruts into you, cock fattening in his boxers and stressing against his jeans. He slides a hand over the divots of your spine and bends it around your neck, hoisting your head back, huffing into your ear. 

“You’ve no idea how much I missed y’Love,” Simon’s humping you now. Rutting himself against your ass with unrestrained vigour. He bites the husk of your ear, flattens you against the counter, and sinks a hand below your waistband. He spreads your pussy open like the shell of a fruit, pushing his thick fingers into its flesh, knuckle-deep and kneading you. 

“How’s here?” He grumbles. You whine, and he twists himself deeper. “What about there?” 

Your mind and body wrestle between pushing him away and yielding under his touch. Simon fucks his fingers a little deeper, a little meaner, into you, and chuckles when you squeal. 

He rests his chin on your shoulder, and you see a sliver of bared teeth as his lips hitch up into a gnarled smile. “Ah, so that’s the spot, innit?”

You’re dew-skinned and fuzzy when Simon throws you over his shoulder, carrying you to your bedroom. Your tongue is heavy and numb and bootless against any objections as he throws you on the mattress, standing balefully at the foot of the bed. 

If you were a child, you’d hide under your sheets until he disappeared. But you’re not a child, and Simon doesn’t disappear. He sinks his knees into your bed and swipes his shirt off over his head, unbuckling his belt in one slick motion. 

He unzips his jeans and doesn’t even pull his balls out, just cups the gauze of his boxers beneath it and leans onto his hands.

A pearlescent bead of precum slips down the slit of Simon’s dick and drools onto your comforter. He wraps his hand around it, slips his palm up and down, tugging down your pants.

Your legs kick into a paltry complaint, but Simon pins your legs down. 

“No reason in fighting,” he says, rubbing his cockhead against your clit, “You’re so wet, Love.”

Simon nudges your panties to the side and thumbs your clit. Leans in for a biting kiss and swallows your moans, slapping his fat cock against your puffy, wet cunt. 

“Missed me just as bad, eh?” He huffs, setting his dick against your winking hole, pushing past your first ring of muscle and rolling at the sticky sound of your cunt spreading open.

“Simon–” you hic, latching onto his forearms. Trying to offset his bruising grip on your hips as he falls into a steady, deep rhythm. “At least wear a condom.”

He’s so thick, so heavy between your legs. Hoisting you onto his thighs and leaning over you, snapping his cock into you. He screws his face tight, pellets of sweat running down his marred collarbone. Congealing into the spindly, blonde threads of hair on his chest. Down to the wire of steel wool that thickens on his pelvis, pinching your clit each time he slams into you.

“You’re stayin’ with me, Pup,” he pants, kissing a stripe up your neck, suckling on your pebbled nipple. “Gonna gimme a litter, ain’t you? Just like we talked about?”

A little, lone tear slips down your hot cheek. Simon leans in and licks it off. He stuffs himself to the hilt, shuddering with abrupt pleasure as he skips to his feet and folds you in half, pounding into you, biting down on your shoulder.

It hits you like whiplash when Simon pushes himself so deep that you feel him swelling under your skin. He gives you no warning before emptying his balls inside you, flooding you with a white-hot come, clutching your jaw into a wet, messy kiss.

You’re blinded and eclipsed by pain as your orgasm shoots through you. The pleasure is numbing and makes you quiver, tremble, until you’re gushing around Simon’s cock and swivelling your hips to get away.

You’re shaking when he pulls back, giving your pussy no time to soften. Simon gives it a swat and flays himself off of you, heading to the bathroom. You hear the cellophane of your birth control peeling open, and the successive thunk as Simon tosses it into the bin. 

You try getting up but Simon flattens you back as he crawls in bed next to you. There’s a hand of his on your waist, seemingly benign, but tightens itself each time you try slipping away. Your sniffles are piercing and Simon pulls you close. Brushes your tears away, kisses your eyelids. 

“You’re not gonna leave me now, eh? You can’t,” he whispers, “you’re all I’ve got. You and our baby. You can’t leave me now.”

A pitiful cry escapes you. Simon takes that as agreement.

[jeongin-lvr]

Can you give us skz bf when they find out a second member has a crush on the reader

ᙏ̤̫ ˘˘˘   skz reactions when another member likes you (nsfw)

𓈃 ★ CHAN

Chan wasn’t by any means possessive— at least not outwardly. He’d smile whenever the members would buddy up with you. They’re practically his family, after all. And you were the love of his life, why wouldn’t he like to see all of you get close? It’s only when he notices that Hyunjin has taken an extra liking to you. Going the extra mile to help you, laughing a little too hard at your jokes, and Chan especially noticed how his eyes would trail up and down your figure each time you turned around. Suddenly, Chan was biting his lip and narrowing his eyes. You were so obvious too… it made Chan wonder how you hadn’t noticed. Despite your oblivion seeing Hyunjin toy with you while you just smiled innocently made him want to pounce across the table at Hyunjin any chance he could.

It tipped over the edge when you wore that low cut top; the one he begged you not to wear yet you did anyway. That’s when Chan nearly lost his shit. He’d catch Hyunjin shamelessly eyeing those pretty tits of yours, the way they spilled from your top each time you bent forward. Chan was furious. So that night while Hyunjin was the only one home beside the two of you, Chan pressed you right against the door and fucked you as hard as he could. His goal was to send the message that Hyunjin could never have you. Your pretty moans slipping through the cracks of the door while he held your wrists above your head, going the extra mile by loudly boasting how you were all his.

“You’re mine— got that? No one else will ever fuck you this good. Isn’t that right, sweetheart? Tell me how good I fuck you, go on.

𓈃 ★ LEE KNOW

You could never really know what he was thinking. He was unpredictable; one day he might be the most loving, doting, perfect boyfriend out there… the next he could have you strip for him so he could bend you over his knee and spank the shit out of you. It’s the best of both worlds! It was surprisingly you who first noticed Seungmin’s lingering stare on you! You caught him staring at you one too many times for it to be a simple coincidence. The thought excited you because you knew exactly how Lee Know would react if he found out. You knew the games he played. So you decided to get a head start. Staring by returning the stares with Seungmin to fluster him, ultimately making Lee Know gawk at the two of you in utter shock. He’d bite his lips as he’d watch you pat Seungmin’s fluffy hair and place your neatly manicured hands on his knee. Lee Know caught on quick; he just didn’t bother to say anything, daring to see how far you’d go.

It was about a week into your little game when he finally snapped. The sight of your fingers swiping at something on Seungmin’s lips, swiping something away with care. Your nose so close to the younger boys— Seungmin was clearly blushing, enjoying the proximity. Meanwhile, Lee Know? No, that man was seething so he just outright said something, immediately placing a veined hand at the back of your neck and pushing you roughly against the dining table, making both you and Seungmin gasp loudly. However, your shock melted quickly into eagerness as you felt his hard-on press against your inner thigh; you also felt Seungmin’s piercing gaze as Lee Know practically growled into your ear.

“You must think you’re so clever, yeah? Taunting me like that… since you have taken such a keen interest in ‘Min, why don’t you show him how well you take me, hm?”

𓈃 ★ CHANGBIN

When Changbin first found out Chan had a crush on you, he was pouty. Adorable little lips jutting out, shimmery brown eyes fluttering each time with annoyance whenever he caught the two of you even just simply chatting. Changbin did not at all like whenever the two of you were left alone, maybe it was a bit toxic but does it matter? And it totally didn’t help that you were slightly feeding into his jealousy; always boasting about ‘Chan this’ and ‘Chan that.’ Poor boy was practically scowling whenever he even saw Chan enter the room. You teased Bin because he was cute when he was mad— you also teased him because you liked the sex you’d get out of him. The toe curling, jaw dropping quickies he’d give you each time he even felt an ounce of jealousy run cold in his veins. How his stamina seemed to grow tenfold whenever he thought you spent a little too long with Chan. Sex when Changbin was jealous, to him, was a reminder that you were his; to you it was euphoric because he was so rough and so whiny with you.

He currently had you bent like a pretzel, knees in your chest, ankles dangling beside your cheeks with his strong hand desperately gripping the pillow beside your head. This was the third time today he’d fucked you into the mattress— but it wasn’t his fault! You were pushing his buttons… this particular moment stemmed from how you had mentioned how toned and big Chan’s arms were. Changbin was quick to drag you by your elbow into the closest room, laying you on the bed and purposefully leaving the door unlocked. He hoped Chan could hear the way the headboard smacked violently against the wall; how you only moaned his name— Your Binnie! He couldn’t wait till later so he could show off the bite marks and scratches you’d left on his bicep, hoping to flex them around the dorms just for Chan to see. The entire time he would whisper to you in gentle whines how he didn’t like how Chan was looking at you. Or the way you were talking about him. Especially how you talked about his muscles. Definitely not that.

“Chan doesn’t have sh-shit on me, yeah, baby? Tryna steal— steal my girl, fuck. He can’t have you. You’re mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.”

𓈃 ★ HYUNJIN

Hyunjin… Let’s just say he temporarily despises whoever dares to crush on his girlfriend! Dirty looks, possessive touches, hickeys along your neck and collarbone that would be way too hard to hide with concealer. The person in question happens to be Jeongin, constantly giving the poor boy dirty looks despite the younger trying his best to avoid you for this very reason! But Hyunjin just doesn’t like knowing how he felt for you. He did not like it at all. So whenever Jeongin would come around Hyunjin was quick to drape his jacket over you and wrap a protective arm around your shoulder, maybe even bringing the two of you into a corner (though not at all hidden) just to kiss you. And he’d silently enjoy when he felt Jeongin’s jealous eyes watching as Hyunjin worked his tongue into your mouth and his hands under your shirt.

You’d tell Hyunjin to relax, although your cheeks were red and your thighs were pressing together for a bit of friction; eyeballs darting toward Jeongin who pretended to be busy with something else on the living room couch, though the apple of his cheeks were rosy and his pants seemed to be getting a tad bit uncomfortable. Hyunjin would simply scoff at you and decide to kiss down your neck instead, making sure to groan just enough to make Jeongin bite his lips. Maybe he doesn’t go the extra mile and put his fingers in your sweet little cunt like he wants to but he definitely riles you AND Jeongin enough to end this little hangout short.

“Did you see him staring at you? He’s so jealous, it’s funny… now spread your legs please, love.”

𓈃 ★ HAN

Jisung would lowkey get mad. Like? You’re clearly his girl, who do they think they are even daring to have a crush on you? So when Jisung finds out cute little Felix has a crush on you he smiles every single time he sees the poor younger boy; it’s not a nice smile either. It’s like he’s smiling to hide the pure anger he feels, his lips upturning almost creepily. It gets to the point where you softly wack his forearm and tell him to stop, red cheeks aglow from slight embarrassment. But Jisung does not give a singular shit, instead eyeing the boy longer. And god forbid you and Felix so much as make eye contact because Jisung will make it know how unhappy he is with that.

He wouldn’t try anything right then and there, nothing more than harsh squeezes of your thigh from beneath the table, maybe even snide remarks towards poor Felix. But the second the door to your shared home is closed he has you backed up against the nearest surface and is inhaling your breath like it’s his own. Lips on your neck, beneath your reddening ears, nipping at the skin like a starved man. It’s not so much as a jealousy thing as it is a dominance thing; proof that he really is yours!! That you chose him and not Felix, which only makes him smile in the kiss and slip his hand into your panties unexpectedly. The moans you let out as he fiddles with your clit only serves as further proof that he is yours, and you are most definitely his.

“Love you, my baby. Looked so pretty tonight even Felix was staring… too bad you’re mine, haha. Ah, stay still let me see your pretty face while I touch you… that’s it.”

𓈃 ★ FELIX

You were actually the one to tell him about Han’s crush on you. You heard from Hyunjin’s loud mouth that Han had been crushing on you for months; to which Felix literally giggled. He was by no means jealous, in fact he was flattered for you. Felix thought of himself as the luckiest man ever because he has someone that others want yet you chose him! It’s actually so sweet when he pressed a soft kiss against your lips, his warm, freckled skin practically melting into you as he placed his gentle hands along your jawline after hearing the news. Felix adores you, he understands why someone else would as well and he also trusts his friends to respect him and keep that shit to themselves!

The thought of another man wanting you only made Felix fall for you harder. You had options yet he was your first pick. So to show you how appreciative of that he is he’s pampering you. Spreading you out on the bed, you’re wearing that new lingerie set he bought you, lace flowers sewn into the panties with ribbons as white as snow. Felix is tender with you while he kisses you, small hands on your wrists as his messy blond hair tickles your tummy. He’s sensual and slow— not to be a tease but because he wants to make this feel special. His plump lips are grazing over your clothed pussy, hums deep enough to make your head spin. He savors every moment of this, thinking about how lucky he is that you’re his.

“Tonight is all about you, sweet girl. Promise to make you feel so good… so lucky to have you. Thank you for being with me.”

𓈃 ★ SEUNGMIN

One jealous son of a bitch. Seungmin seems to always catch other members staring at you a little too hard, seeing their eyes on you or how they licked their lips around you. But it was Lee Know who always had his eyes trained on you, watching you walk— even when you were around Seungmin! And it was pissing Seungmin off. He didn’t know if he was purposely trying to annoy Seungmin or if he was unaware; either way Seungmin was practically grinding his teeth together at the thought of Lee Know ever having a crush on you. But in a weird way Seungmin couldn’t even blame him— sure was he pissed that Lee Know even thought about you like that? Hell yeah. Was he surprised that other people found you attractive? No, not at all. Because it’s true. So in a way Seungmin related to Lee Know, chuckling at the thought after a while. And that’s how this idea had blossomed.

Seungmin had been fingering you for a little over half an hour, edging you on with a sadistic smile and his big brown eyes trained on the way your face squished at the feeling of your approaching orgasm. Your shivering hands rested on his shoulders, moans loud in the night. Seungmin left the door wide open so his roommate, Lee Know, would be able to hear every little sound you made; it worked like a fucking charm! Lee Know was sitting wide eyed in his bed just down the hall, his own bedroom door open a crack. His cock straining in his pants as the sound of Seungmin’s wet palm slapping against your swollen clit filled the room. Lee Know didn’t know whether to say something or to close the door and wish it were him pleasuring you instead. Seungmin loved that thought— so much so he had to whisper it to you, mouth right by your ear. The only thing was his “whispers” were loud enough for Lee Know to hear perfectly, every crisp syllable.

“D’ya think Minho heard you, sweetheart? Bet he wishes it was him touching you like this… bet he wants to touch you like this. He can’t reach the best parts of you like I can, baby, trust me. He doesn’t know this pretty body like I do.”

𓈃 ★ JEONGIN

Three words; jealous, whiny baby. He’s jealous, what else can I say? As soon as he hears from Chan that Changbin has a crush on you— his girlfriend —he’s seething. He immediately runs to you, whining into your arms as his weight crushes you into the bed, pouting into the soft crook of your neck, inhaling your faded perfume as he spoke. You’re feigning sympathy, asking questions you knew would tick him off, playing with his thick, conditioned hair as you did so just to tease him more, “Oh yeah? Bin likes me? How cute, how cute.” And, let me tell you, Jeongin is not amused by you at all. His bottom lip jutting out as he lifts his head and gives you the nastiest glare, big hands gripping your hands that were once in his hair. But it’s especially when Changbin comes in to ask you two what you want for dinner (though really he just wants to talk to you) that Jeongin silently loses it. Before you can even properly answer the older male Jeongin is pushing him out the room, locking the door behind him.

And now he has you laid on the mattress with your own panties pathetically shoved into your mouth as a make shift gag, holding his phone in front of your face. He’s recording, clicking his tongue and letting the camera scan up and down your sweaty, red marked body as he buries his cock between your thighs. He’s mocking you now, asking you questions with that same tone of understanding, feigning sympathy for the way his dick is splitting you open. Taunting you by saying he’ll send the video to Changbin to “prove a point,” and you’re practically sobbing from both pleasure and embarrassment! But it’s okay he won’t send it, he’ll keep it all to himself… you’re all his!

“What do you think, babe, should I send it? Think he’ll like it… no? Aw, what a shame. Shh, don’t cry, I know it feels good, shh.”

[ 𝗆．𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 ] 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾：𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝗎𝗇 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 ！𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗈𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗉𝗅𝗌 𝗂𝗀𝗇𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 😭

[explicit-tae]

ik it would be very out of character but i’d LOVE to see ungodly hour’s jk react to oc admitting she likes (or loves 🫣) him!! knowing him he’d cry

thank you for your amazing work !!!! ly<3

honestly let me just write about it

Ungodly Hour

Word Count: 3.413

Warning: dirty talking, oral sex (f), alcohol intake, intoxicated/unprotected sex, fingering, creampie, overstimulation, riding, love confessions,

“Okay,” Jungkook enters the living room hastily as you arrive, a gift bag in your hand. “I finally finished it.”

“You know you didn’t have to make me wait until you were done.” you tell Jungkook as you sit on the couch. “I’ve had the gift for weeks now.”

“We couldn’t exchange gifts until mine was complete.” Jungkook says.

Jungkook had insisted on waiting to exchange gifts. You knew he was making you something - he kept it hidden in an extra bedroom that he locked to assure you didn’t peek. He also refused to look at whatever gift you got him and prompted that you take it out the house so he himself would be tempted. 

“Well,” you hold out the gift bag - it’s medium sized and a sparkly blue. “Merry Christmas.”

Jungkook notes that you’re nervous as he takes the bag and he isn’t sure why. He would be happy with whatever you gave him - even if he was surprised initially that you told him you got him a gift. He would often think about what it was.

Jungkook opens the gift bag and takes out the rectangular box. He sees the bottom first - it’s a solid yellow color. He flips it around to inspect it, the rest of the sides being black. His eyes capture the name on the top of the box. His eyes widened. 

“Y/N…?”

Now Jungkook understands why you’re nervous. His eyes flicker to you in disbelief. “This camera is expensive!” he gasps. “How did you know-”

“I saw it on your wishlist.” you say, licking your lips. “When you let me borrow your laptop, you left a few tabs open.”

You weren’t going to admit that you were snooping for answers. Jungkook seemingly had everything there was to get and buying a gift for him was becoming difficult. 

Jungkook opens the box gently, his eyes softening at the camera. “You must’ve spent a lot on it…” he says, trailing off. He knows the exact price and knowing that you spent thousands on a gift for him pulls at his heart strings. “Thank you.”

You give Jungkook a smile. “I can finally quit my job now that I’ve spent a few checks on a gift.” you say, joking with Jungkook to lighten the mood. 

“You can!” Jungkook smiles back with a nod.

“Just kidding.” you sing-song. “Don’t be so gullible.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and snorts. He places the camera beside him. “Always teasing me with a good time.” he murmurs. “Now for yours.”

Jungkook had wrapped the canvas neatly. It’s a decent size, you noticed, maybe 11 inches all around. Your heart is beating with anticipation as you unwrap it.

Jungkook awaits your reaction, his own nerves hiking. “Do you…like it?” he murmurs. You haven’t said anything and instead have been analyzing the painting silently, expression unreadable.

The painting is full of life, emotion. The scenery is what you initially noted, a mountain of flowers that seemingly went on for miles by the way Jungkook had painted it. The flowers are colorful, different shades of yellow, orange and pink. The sky holds bright gray clouds, covering the sun that appears to be setting. What captures your attention fully are the hands. Both pairs of hands are connected by the pinky with one wrist sporting a gold watch and the other a bracelet while the arms are painted to appear out of the canvas frame.

“This is us.” you say aloud, glancing up at Jungkook. It was a picture you and he had taken a few weeks back. You recall telling Jungkook that it was one of your favorite pictures of the two of you together that didn’t showcase faces. 

Jungkook nods. “It is.” he agrees. “You said it was your favorite picture so I painted it.”

Your throat tightens at his words.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook, you think, because this was entirely too much for you to handle. Your mother didn’t raise a weak woman who felt like she was seconds away from crying tears because of how happy she felt.

You blame it on your period that must be nearing - even if you never cry on your period. 

“Thank you.” you murmur to Jungkook, glancing away shyly to avoid his gaze. “I love it.” you say sincerely, and the admission causes Jungkook to smile.

“You’re d-drunk.” Jungkook snorted before full on laughing as you stumbled through his bedroom door.

“Fuck you.” you retort, plopping yourself down onto Jungkook’s large bed. “So are you.” you slur back.

Jungkook doesn’t deny it.

This is what happens when you drink with friends - more importantly, Jimin. It was nothing new, Jimin always insisted on going into the new year buzzed - this time, they all just went a little overboard. Luckily, Jungkook had agreed for the party to be at his apartment so he could just walk down the hall to his bedroom.

Of course, Jungkook would soon come to regret it because that meant that he would have to clean the mess they made in the morning - but you were with him, so that was a plus.

“Not as drunk as you.” Jungkook closes the door behind him, along with the loud music and laughter of everyone just down the hall in his living room. “Told you to not challenge Jimin.”

“Fuck Jimin…” you murmur to yourself, more so because Jungkook was right.

However, you wouldn’t say you challenged Jimin - he was the one who came to you with a whole cup of alcohol declaring that you were, in his words, too much of a coward to drink.

It was a complete set up, Jungkook knows this, but the only thing he could do was assure you had water and a lot of greasy food ready for when you were going to need it - and luckily he was there to do so. You’re sure you would’ve been passed out long ago.

Jungkook squints his eyes at you, an attempt to get a look at your lying figure. You and he had matched tonight - an idea that was yours. You wore a long sleeved-black dress with a deep v cut that stopped mid thigh while he wore a compressed black shirt (by your request ) and ripped jeans. 

“Do you need to throw up?” Jungkook asks, stumbling  closer to you when he hears a low moan-like whine. “I told you not to drink so-“

“Shut up,” you sit up and look directly at Jungkook. “Can I sit on your face?” 

Jungkook stops in his tracks, his doe eyes widening slightly. Yes is what he wants to say - he loves the act of pleasuring you. However, he’s unsure if he should be doing anything with you in your intoxicated state. 

“You’re drunk-“

“We’re drunk.” you correct, eyes narrowing at him - and also focusing on him all of the same because the room was still spinning. 

“True.” Jungkook murmurs to himself, trailing off. “Still, I don’t want to take advantage-“

“Save the theatrics, Kookie.” you’re already tugging your underwear off, the lacy material falling right by his bed. “Unless you…”

You don’t finish your sentence and Jungkook titls hisnhead. “What?”

“…unless you suddenly don’t like me anymore.” you whisper, and slowly, your eyes widen as if you had figured out the biggest secret. No other world conspiracy was important - not the Bermuda triangle, not whoever the fuck Jack the Ripper is or whether if Atlantis was ever real. No, not even your favorite cold cases could be as important as this new revelation of Jeon Jungkook not liking you anymore. 

“Now you’re extremely drunk .” Jungkook cackles. “Of course I like you!”

It brings Jungkookk back to when you were convincing him that you liked him, now it was the other way around. His heart swells with your drunken ramblings and overall cute appearance. 

“You don’t.” You cross your arms over your chest. “You refuse to have me sit on your face.” you say, and Jungkook realizes that he truly spoils you like everyone claims he does - you never got told no to mainly anything. 

“So who gets to sit on your face?” you ask with narrow eyes. “I bet-“

“Don’t say that girl's name.” Jungkook cuts you off before you can get started. “You know you’re my girl, Y/N.”

“So you hate me.” you deadpan, saying the words matter-of -factly. “All of a sudden you aren’t obsessed-“

“I am!” Jungkook interrupts, raising his voice. He couldn’t believe that this was a conversation that needed to be had and if he remembered this sober, it’s something he was definitely going to tease you about. 

“Hm.” you uncross your arms and stand to your feet. “I'm going to go party with Jimin.” 

Jungkook steps in front of you. “You aren’t wearing any underwear.” he states. “That and you’re already had enough to drink-“

“If you aren’t going to fuck me,” you wave your hand in his face to stop his speech. “then I’m going to go out there and drink with Jimin.”

If Jimin knew that he was the person that would be used against him it would cause ultimate chaos in the groupchat and in his friend group. 

Jungkook licks his lips. He doesn’t have time to entertain his and your friends any longer. He can only imagine how it would look if he chased after you because you wanted to be drunk and petty. The room is already spinning for him as it is for you and he knows that it wouldn’t be a good idea. 

“You’re such a bitch…” Jungkook murmurs, tone low. It’s a tone that you’re all too familiar with - and you know that you had Jungkook where you wanted him. “Get on the bed.”

You do as you’re told, laying on Jungkook’s bed and open your legs, dress hiking up entirely. 

Jungkook drops to his knees and hooks his hands beneath your thighs. You yelp when he snatches you closer to him. His lips place themselves onto your inner thigh and he presses a kiss. “I spoil you too much.”

Jungkook kisses closer and closer to your heat and he does so to tease you. “You looked so good tonight.” He couldn’t help but cave, wanting to give you whatever you wanted of him. 

Fingernails dig into your skin as Jungkook speaks against your skin. 

“You did, too.” you hitch your breath when you feel Jungkook's lips directly against your clit. 

Jungkook kisses it gently. “Thank you, baby. So needy.”

Your back arches when you feel it, wet tongue sliding directly up your clit. He dips it between your folds, holding you directly still so he can pleasure you like you desperately wanted him to. 

Eyes flickering up, Jungkook grunts. So beautiful, he always thinks of you. You couldn’t help but grow spoiled because he never told you no for anything. However, it wasn’t something he could help - you don’t ask for much to begin with.

The room continues to spin, but you no longer care. Your body erupts with arousal and it clouds your being entirely. You should’ve never drunk as much as you did, but there was no taking back the past. Besides, you cannot remember being filled with lust when you would drink prior - you’re unsure why you appear so insatiable.

“Feels so good, Kookie.” you moan, hips buckling against the rhythm of his tongue. The top half of the dress constricts your body entirely and you cannot wait until you can get out of it. “So, so good.”

Jungkook's eyes are as dark as can be and he’s positive he is a man starved right now. The alcohol runs through his system and causes his movement to be sloppy, but capable. His tongue completely savors your arousal, suckling on your clit to dipping between your folds and now, plunging it inside of you entirely.

“You must want me to fuck you.” Jungkook disclosed. “Your pussy’s clenching around nothing.”

How correct Jungkook was and you’re far from sober, so there was no snarky remark for you to retort with. You were beyond your regular self - you weren’t going to deny anything because you truly, desperately wanted Jungkook.

Your sober self would surely be screaming at you when your intoxication wore off.

Jungkook would lean back a bit every few minutes, his lips and chin fully coated in you. His tongue would still be flicking against your swollen clit and he’s truly doing this as an act to tease you further. He likes when your breath - that you’d be holding - would release when he gave you a bit of a teasing break, all before he devoured you once more.

“Kookie,” you moan Jungkook’s name so lovingly - it’s hard not to want to be between your legs for hours. His hand is bruising the skin of your thigh to hold you against his tongue. “wanna cum.”

Jungkook’s eyes stare into yours, a silent telepathic moment that tells you that he wasn’t stopping you from cumming. But he is also not a fool when it comes to you or your body and soon, you feel your pussy - so greedy to be stuffed and full - stretched out with his fingers.

Jungkook loves your whimpering and moaning - more so when you don’t hide them from his ears. There’s a party right outside his door where people are all huddling to celebrate the new year, and here the two of you were forgetting about them entirely. 

Jungkook plunges his fingers deep inside of you. He hits the familiar sweet spot he knows so well, your thighs quivering in the process. His tongue licks circles around your clit, fingerings thrusting rhythmically. Your moans bounces off the walls and louder than the muffled music in the background.

Jungkook doesn’t mind when your hands grip his hair tightly because he just knows that you’re going through it - and he has no intention of stopping until you’re cumming on his tongue. It’s close, he notes, the way your walls are clenching around his fingers greedily and your cries grow louder and louder in contrast to the way your fingers grips into his hair.

Jungkook allows you to ride against your own high, laying his tongue flat against your clit and allowing you to grind against his tongue, fingers plunging deep inside of you. Your high comes hard, body twitching and Jungkook allows it all to happen, determined to make sure you are satisfied completely before he stops.

You feel dizzy when your high slowly comes down, your forehead lined with sweat and your body completely flushed. Your body molds itself against Jungkook’s soft sheets, your breathing slowing down.

“Where are you going…?” you ask Jungkook when you no longer feel his presence before you. Your eyes flutter open. 

“Nowhere.” Jungkook responds sincerely. “We should get you out of this dress for bed-”

“Bed?” your senses peak and you jolt upright, eyes narrowed once more. “I want to ride you first.”

Jungkook snorts and stumbles back a bit at your sudden action. “You’ve already came so hard, baby. Are you sure-”

You aren’t listening to Jungkook in the slightest. You’re tugging the dress off of you entirely and getting naked right before his eyes. 

Jungkook is but a man and there isn’t much convincing he needs - especially not when you’re tugging him towards you needily. You connect your lips to his while pushing him against the bed. Jungkook loves how needy you are - how much you express that you want him. Of course, he knows that you do any other time - but this time it’s different; getting to witness just how much you want him is a feeling he never knew he craved.

Your fingernails dig into Jungkook’s clothed shoulders as you slowly feel him inside of you. You push him backwards so that he’s laying on the bed, your hips rising and falling.

“Fuck,” Jungkook groans, hands firmly on your hips. You’re going so fast, fully determined to cum once more - and Jungkook couldn’t be upset. Your face displays just how good you felt in this moment. “your pussy feels so good, baby.”

Your pussy clenches around Jungkook as if responding to his words. By the time the pair of you were done, you were going to be bruised entirely with Jungkook’s hand marks. 

Jungkook finds it hard to look at you - not when you looked so completely fucked out and beautiful. He’s unsure where your stamina appeared - maybe you were just that fucked out and drunk; that you didn’t care that you were overstimulating yourself (and him). 

Jungkook clenches his eyes shut to get the image of you out of his head, but all it does is follow him in his thoughts. Your naked figure using him to pleasure yourself, your bouncing breast to your creaming pussy dripping all over him and making a complete mess.

Jungkook is so hot - so beautiful himself. He’s hissing to himself with clenched eyes, experiencing pure bliss just as you were. His forehead is covered in sweat and a few strands of hair are sticking to it. 

Jungkook feels a hand upon his cheek and his eyes open. They're so dark and full of lust - similar to your own. Your eyes connect to his and Jungkook swallows, adam’s apple bobbing.

“Drunk Y/N is so needy.” Jungkook jokes, voice deep and raspy. “Drunk actions are sober intentions.”

Jungkook begins to thrust upwards, matching your rhythm. His thrusts are brutal, fully determined to satiate your hunger for him. His eyes never leave yours, the pair of you stuck in an intimate, lust-filled moment.

“I-I’m gonna cum again!” you mewl, breaking eye-contact first to shut them tight. The familiar sensation bubbles into you again and Jungkook only fucks into you harder, pounding with all his might; how the both of you could be drunk and full of stamina is beyond him.

Your walls are squeezing around Jungkook and within seconds, your juices squirt around Jungkook entirely, fully coating his abdomen. “I-I-” Your body is twitching, your head pushed back when Jungkook hears your words. “I love you.”

Jungkook is still for a moment, completely silent. He’s contemplating if he heard you correctly and before he can speak, you repeat yourself. “I love you.” it’s low and a bit slurred, but Jungkook hears it entirely.

“You’re drunk.” Jungkook laughs it off, cheeks flushed and heart beating out his chest. He doesn’t want to call you a liar - you wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t true. However, you’re drunk and maybe you meant to say you loved the way he was fucking you -

“Shut up,” you say, walls tightening on Jungkook’s cock. “I do love you.”

You yelp when you feel your back hit the soft mattress, all without Jungkook removing himself from inside of you. The room continues to spin for you two, but neither of you could bring yourselves to care. 

“You’re going to forget you said that.” Jungkook begins to thrust, holding you close in his embrace. “Gonna deny it until the end of time.”

“I love you.” you repeat and Jungkook’s pounding only increases. Skin slapping echoes off the wall and the two of you are so entranced in the moment that neither of you notice the music dying down outside the room. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” Jungkook whimpers with a shake of his head. His thoughts are consumed by your words - the love confession. 

Jungkook could never get tired of hearing it and at this moment, you don’t get tired of saying it. You repeat it over and over again as Jungkook continues to fuck inside of you. You’re creaming his cock, a white ring forming around the shaft and Jungkook couldn’t get enough of you.

I love you.

I love you.

You love him, Jungkook’s thrilled at the revelation. His head drops back as his body tenses up, his thrust becoming sloppy. “Say it again, baby.” he pleads with a choked whimper. He needed to hear you say it again, as selfish as it was - he’s unsure how long it’d be before he could hear it again.

“Fuck,” your pussy is seeping with arousal and staining his sheets, your clit swollen and pulsing. “I love you, Kookie.”“Oh, shit…I love you, too, baby.” Jungkook continues to stretch your pussy completely until he’s shooting hot cum directly inside of you, a hand directly on your stomach as he does so. He’s panting, the both of you covered in sweat and bodily fluids.

[dredgesnails]

i don’t think jimmy’s broken his canary curse. i think it’s just been evolving, slowly, and he’s figuring out how to work with it instead of trying to fight it. hear me out:

3rd life - flower husbands. jimmy dies first. scott is 10th out in the series, the only time he places outside of the top 5

last life - the southlanders. jimmy is first out. mumbo is out next in quick succession. impulse dies shortly after. the only southlanders to make it into the top 10 are grian, who killed jimmy and mumbo (and still only ranks 7) and martyn, who left the southlanders for the shadow alliance

double life - ranchers. jimmy dies first, and takes tango out with him. tango is the one responsible for their first death, though

limited life - bad boys. joel wants to sacrifice himself for jimmy, but jimmy dies first before he can. joel still dies shortly after, and grian becomes a nosy neighbour, surviving to 6th

secret life - big dogs. jimmy dies second, but lizzie might be falling forever in the end so maybe he does die first. martyn is the first to yellow and red, and he dies 11th. the worst he’s ever placed. (also, mumbo dies only moments after jimmy again*)

real life - (do they have a name??). jimmy and ren’s groups get into a fight in the mines. jimmy is the only one who makes it out without dying at all. his allies are out of the series.

the canary curse isn’t about jimmy dying first. or at least, it isn’t really anymore. at first he was used to signify it, the canary dying first to warn everyone of danger ahead. but the canary has learned how to escape the coalmine now, and his friends are still stuck inside. they might survive if they have friends on the surface or they’re willing to betray their allies, but if it’s just been them and their canary to warn them of danger? then they’ve doomed themselves.

*mumbo might also have his own unique “killed ten seconds after jimmy by the same person/thing” curse, which is different from the general jimmy “bad luck charm” solidarity curse

[riordanness]

slow motion, double vision - [w.scobell]

wordcount: 0.8K

warnings: self harm (reader)

requested: yes!

a/n: please do not read this if you struggle with self harm and won’t feel comfortable reading about it (it’s not described at all and reader doesn’t do it in this but it’s said that she has and a brief description of her wrist is also in this. don’t read this if you aren’t going to cope with that. and if you are struggling w self harm, reach out to me, please!! <3)

Another day on the Percy Jackson set. Today, we are filming a scene between Percy and Annabeth, an argument.

Walker gives me a grin once he’s finished up with the makeup crew. “Hey, you,” he says with an easy smile.

I try to replicate it. Walker has this gift. He’s so good at it. At everything. Life, acting, smiling.

All the things I struggle with.

“Hey,” I say back. “Looking good.”

“Says you.” He gives me an appreciative look. “My girlfriend looks adorable.”

I immediately get flustered. No matter how many days I’m dating Walker for, I think him calling me his girlfriend will always make me flutter inside.

“I'm not your girlfriend anymore,” I joke. “I’m Annabeth Chase, Seaweed Brain.”

He grins. “See you out there.”

As soon as he’s gone, my heart sinks again. It’s like he’s the only thing in the world that brings any kind of light to my darkness. The only smile on my sad face. The only sweet words I can say.

“The chair is the bargain,” Walker, as Percy, says. “One of us goes in, the other gets the shield.”

“I’ll do it,” I say, stepping forward, a determined look on my face.

“What? What a minute!” Walker reaches over and grabs my wrist. A flicker of pain crosses my features, but quick as lighting, I go back into character, hoping he didn’t notice.

“Whoever goes in isn’t coming out!” I say, my voice rising a little at the end.

“I know, that’s why I said wait.”

“This isn’t the arch, Seaweed Brain,” I snap in response.

“Cut!” someone yells, and I instantly break character, as does Walker.

The directing team is talking amongst themselves, which is usually a sign for us to just chat and wait for them to be ready to film again.

“Hey,” Walker comes close to me, his voice quiet. “Are you okay?”

I look at him, feigning a frown. “Course I’m okay. Why?”

He looks concerned, his blue eyes staring deep into mine. “You flinched just now. When I grabbed you.”

“Oh,” I laugh, which comes out so brittle I almost wince. “Nah, it’s all good. Just acting.” I’m brushing him off, and he knows that.

“I’m gonna grab a drink,” I tell him, and disappear before he can argue with me about it.

He finds me in the bathrooms. I’m standing over a sink, gripping the sides like a dramatic Draco Malfoy-wannabe. I have tears in my eyes, but the second I hear someone behind me, I brush them away.

“Y/n?” Walker asks quietly. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

I can’t answer, his sweet words just making me want to cry harder. I can only shake my head.

He buries me in a hug, his chin on top of my head, and his arms encircling me tightly. “Love,” he says again, speaking softly into my hair, “tell me what’s wrong.”

“Walker, I—“ I cannot bring myself to say the words, so I pull back from the hug, and pull up the sleeve of my Annabeth jacket. Across the inside of my left wrist are stripes of harsh red, jagged and fresh.

Walker’s eyes shatter, a million emotions and words and thoughts all inside their clear blue at once. His mouth opens a little.

“Y/n—“

“I’m sorry,” I blurt. “I’m so so sorry.”

He immediately folds me back into his arms. “You have no reason to be sorry,” he says roughly. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you feel this awful about yourself. I’m so sorry you felt like you had no other choice. But please—“ I can tell by his voice that he’s upset. Somehow, that makes me feel even worse.

“Please come talk to me before you do something like that,” he whispers.

“Okay,” I manage.

“Do you promise?” he asks, his voice ragged.

“I promise on the River Styx.”

I feel his smile through my hair. “I love you.”

I smile too, his warmth and love spreading through me like an antidote. “I love you too, Walk.”

He pulls away from the hug, his fingertips brushing the broken skin of my wrist as lightly as he can. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s get this cleaned and dressed properly, okay?”

I let him take me by the hand, and for the first time in my life, I feel completely and totally safe and understood.

With him.

[lifespectator]

Punk Nun

Power bottom nun!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: The pretty nun named Wanda ended up with you…

Warnings: no specified gender but reader is AMAB, VERY little plot, mostly smut MINORS DNI, strong language, some angst Ig but hopeful ending.

A/N: I’m back and posting this to proof that visiting Santa Monica Pier at night changes a person lol anyways sorry if it isn’t the best but hope you enjoy it. Also, art not mine so credit to the original artist.

-

Who would have thought?

"I'm eager to see what's under that habit." You eyed up the horny nun as your wish to see her nude body grew more and more with each second, along with the need to touch her.

That pretty innocent-looking nun with short strawberry blonde hair that had crossed a few glances with you on the few times you did attend church would end up in your room—sitting on the edge of your bed, looking at you with lustful eyes.

It happened too fast. You heard a knock on your door, and Wanda stood there, perplexing you. When you thought she would read the Bible to you, she pushed past you with the excuse of wanting to talk to you like you had offered last time. Things went up from there, so you just chalked it up to 'fate.'

A low moan left the nun's mouth, seeing as you removed your black shirt, exposing your bare torso to her. She looked attentively at your body. Looks like your build was eye candy for her.

"I promise to let you touch." You said as Wanda shifted her attention to you. "But for now, you're in my house, so we'll do a ritual." With that, you walked out of the room. The words that had come out of your mouth had only elevated her sensation of need between her legs.

A sin? Yes. An unforgivable one for sure. She had made her vows to the church. But it wasn't her fault. Wanda never wanted to be part of that. Before, she was a typical teen with dreams and aspirations like many others. But one day, her parents told her they had chosen her life path. Why? Because they had some dream that Wanda would become a nexus being that would destroy everything. Pure nonsense, she always thought. Her biggest regret is that she never fought against her parents' decision.

It didn't matter anymore because she was with you now, and no one could stop her.

Wanda removed her loafers before you came back into the room. Carrying a bottle of red wine, you walked towards her and gently laid the bottle on the bed. She couldn't resist having you so close and lifted her hand and ran it over your abdomen. A low gasp left your mouth at her gentle touch.

"Couldn't stop yourself, huh?" You grabbed a part of the fabric of her habit. "Help me a bit." Wanda raised her arms, letting you gently pull it off her, exposing her beautiful body that was only covered by her black panties. Only Wanda's perky tits were exposed but adorned with a silver cross pendant that hung from a matching necklace. From her face down, she was worthy of being described as a goddess.

"The real sin is having you wear this, which doesn't allow me to see such beauty." You lusted, tossing the habit away, and instead reached for her soft breast, caressing them to feel their softness, making her breathing hitched when you rubbed your thumb on her perky tit. "I will have to include this in my thesis now." You teased, squeezing her breast.

"Oh, you're a priest now?" Wanda asked in a challenging tone, pushing your hands off her bust.

Cheeky. Despite not speaking much, Wanda announced she was not as innocent as she looked.

"I ain't no Martin Luther." You grinned, lightly pushing her against the bed and crawling on top of her. "But I'll gladly be your punk monk, my dear punk nun."

You planted your lips on hers as Wanda gave you access to her mouth. She reciprocated, deepening the kiss. Her tongue was swirling with yours. It was noticeable how it wasn't her first "steamy" makeout. How her hands ran from your hair to your back demonstrated how much she wanted this as much as you did. Her soft hands made her touch unique.

You parted your lips from hers and rested them on the tip of her ear.

"I'm going to begin my ritual." A low moan escaped Wanda's mouth, shivering at the feeling of your warm breath next to her ear.

You got off Wanda and kneeled beside her on the bed, grabbing the bottle of wine and opening it quickly. You offered her the bottle first, which she grabbed without hesitation. It was her favorite, after all. The nun took a deep sip of it and handed it back.

She laid back down at your instruction, letting you do as you pleased with her now. You ran your hand through her soft abdomen, preparing to give her the unexpected.

You lifted the wine bottle and tilted it towards her, pouring some of the wine on her belly button. Wanda jolted and let out a high-pitched hiss at the feeling of the cool liquid making contact with her skin.

"It's okay, beauty. You're okay." You comforted the nun. Her glare softened once she heard your words.

When the naughty nun was relaxed again, you lowered your head into her abdomen and sucked the wine that had stained her skin. Some breathy moans left her mouth as you sucked the red wine on her skin, especially at the sensitivity of her stomach. Groans left your mouth at the feeling of her warm skin. You sucked and even licked her skin until there was no trace of any liquid ever being there.

Your hand made contact with her black panties, making your cock twitch when you felt how drenched in her arousal fluids they were. The touch of your fingers on the cotton fabric that separates you from her entrance was enough to make her moan.

"Hurry the fuck up." Wanda cried when you teased her by rubbing your fingers on the fabric.

"What would your fellow sisters say with that vocabulary of yours?" You grabbed her panties from the waist and gently pulled them off her.

"I don't know. You're the one who is said not to worry about what other people say." Wanda raised her legs to assist you in removing her panties.

You passed your fingers on the top of her exposed entrance that was glistening with her wetness. Wanda mouthed a moan. "Nice to know that you do listen to me." You remarked.

Wanda moaned as you rubbed her entrance. "Fuck." She Let out when you started rubbing her clit followed by other curse words. Shaking her legs at the sensation. Her losing control gave you ideas. Without warning, you inserted two fingers into her entrance. Her sudden gasp turned into repeated moans when you started pumping your fingers into her fast. "Just like that." She begged, feeling you increase your pace. "Cum for me, nun." You groaned, feeling her walls tighten around your fingers, followed by a loud moan of hers and then the feeling of her warm fluids coming out of her pussy, getting all over your hand and staining the bed.

You brought your hand up to you and licked off her cum, savoring the taste.

You unbuckle your belt and slide off your jeans, accompanied by your boxers. Finally, let out your hardened cock, twitching at the thought of being inside Wanda.

"Show me how much you wanted this." You lay in the bed, inviting the sex-starved nun to get on top of you. She crawled on top of you, her legs on each side of your thighs. "I'll make you lose control." She smirked, looking down at you. Her confidence in her voice piqued your curiosity and even increased your need for her. "Show, not tell." You countered, also smirking and running your hand through her legs.

Letting out a low moan when you felt her soft hand grabbed your hardened cock and gave it a few slow strokes before aligning it with her entrance. She kept looking down, breathing out moans when she rubbed your tip with her slit and slowly took your whole length. "Ahh." Similar moans and some groans came out of your and Wanda's mouths as she felt your length go deeper while you felt her wet walls around your cock. You melted at the unknown energy she had. Almost as if it was another person.

You were left in a trance as you felt her soft, warm walls surrounding your cock that you overlooked when she bent down to whisper in your ear. "Let me know if you can't handle it." You weren't able to process her words once she started rocking back and forth on your cock at a slow pace to accustom to your size.

"You're a demon in disguise, huh?" You groaned at her sensual actions. Wanda placed her hands on your chest. "Let's find out." She started moving at a faster pace, waves of pleasure going through both your bodies. Wanda whimpered as she repeatedly sank into your cock. The view it gave you was mesmerizing as the way her breasts bounced, which impulsed you into grabbing them again. Kneading and teasing her perked nipples. "Keep going." She encouraged you in a breathy voice, inviting you to do more with her.

Wanting more of her body, your hands left her breast and, out of instinct, reached for her ass and held her with a tight grip stopping her movements.

"You might hurt me," Wanda teased in a raspy voice between breaths, coming to a stop and having an idea of what you were about to do. "Too late to back out now." You stretched her bum a bit before and, with no warning, pumped your cock as deeply as possible into her needy pussy. The noises of your hips hitting hers just right were barely audible as the repeated moans were louder. You continued until another sexy idea popped into your mind.

Out of nowhere, you turned her over and pinned her down on the bed without pulling out of the pretty nun. She yelped at the sudden action and breathed a bit to regain herself. Your eyes locked with hers; she was panting, sweat rolling down her face. Despite your initial thought, she wasn't amused. "You love being deep inside me." She muttered, making you lose any sense of control you had left in you.

You began moving your hips, pushing your cock deep in Wanda as much as you could at a pace that even made the bed creak. Wanda's hands gripped your biceps tightly as you started hitting the right spot. The sound of her moans and skin-to-skin contact pushed you to increase your pace; at the same time, her nails started digging into your skin; you were too lost in the pleasure even to notice it.

The good sensation of her walls clenching on you announced what was coming, so you didn't stop. You wanted to feel every last bit of her like she did of you. Wanda let out a high-pitched moan as you felt her warm juices fall on your cock, announcing her release of pleasure that you had helped build up. You stayed there on top of her, still hard, waiting for her to regain her breath. Needless to say that you were euphoric to release as well, which led you to pull out of her gently, and after giving yourself a few strokes, you reached your high as thick ropes of your cum landed just outside Wanda's entrance and her inner thighs. You Guessed this was the closest to getting to heaven as you can get.

"Fuck.. that was.. was great." Wanda panted, looking up to see you trying to smile while you regained your breath, then gently moved off her to lay beside her. You would follow up on what she said, but she stood up and went to the bathroom. "You alright?" You asked, concerned that you might have hurt her with your roughness. But again, no response from her.

You got up and followed her into the bathroom after sliding on your boxers, where Wanda had gotten one of your towels to clean herself up. You stood there waiting for her to acknowledge you, but she did not react as if you weren't there. You sighed before taking the initiative to break the uncomfortable silence. "Hey." You spoke almost like a middle schooler talking with their crush for the first time.

The nun stopped her actions, looking down after finally acknowledging you. Wanda sighed and looked back up at the mirror in front. "It's just," She gritted her teeth. "Fuck," She muttered, letting the towel hit the floor. "I have to return to my boring life as a nun." Her words expressed impotence and frustration.

You stayed quiet, imagining Wanda's daily torment of being somewhere she didn't want. A literal place that can be a dream killer. Well, you didn't have to. Living in the same old boring town took away your will to live mentally. But it was nothing compared to what Wanda has been through.

"Maybe you don't have to, Wanda," You picked up the towel and put it around Wanda's shoulder to cover her. Your words made her look at you with curiosity and perhaps a bit of hope, which she needed at this time. "Why don't we leave this shitty place together?" You offered, as shock and confusion plastered on her face.

"What do you mean?" She asked, still trying to understand what you had said.

"Fuck whatever we have here. Let's leave somewhere else where we can be ourselves and leave all this behind." You said as you realized what some of her concerns could be. Also, the fact that you barely knew each other. "There is no easy way to explain, but just think about it."

Wanda said nothing but was attentive to your words. She said nothing at first, but the smile that started to creep on her face was enough to confirm that she had already made her decision, and it would be one that would change something for both.

[safination]

Partners in Death...and Life.

Part I: Radio's not dead

| Part 2: Radio Will Be Dead if He Doesn’t Explain Himself. | Masterlist| ao3 Pairings: Alastor x wife!reader Tags: fem! reader, established relationship, human!alastor, hopefully not but just in case ooc!alastor (I'm trying my best to keep him as canon as possible) acroace!alastor

"Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite a pleasure!” One hand reset on his chest, and the other shoots into the air. It’s the bow you did in high school, back when you wanted theater to pay your bills. A performer’s bow. You chuckle. “I don’t think it will be quite the pleasure you think.” “Is that so?” Alastor’s smile remains constant. “And why would that be?” You show him the tray you’re holding. “I’m here to do your sutures.” [Or after a seven-year absence, you find the man you were married to in life, not only back in town, but also helping . . . *checks notes* . . . the Princess of Hell run a hotel aimed at rehabilitating sinners who were sent to the bad place for a reason.]

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

You pass the tissue box—the third one already.

Your patient blows his nose, rubbing snot off his snout. He has to stretch his arms to reach his nose. Alligators are known for their long snouts. His nostrils flare when he sniffles.

Used tissue is discarded on the pastel-pink floor despite a pastel-pink trashcan stationed by his webbed feet. It’s been the same pattern for the last fifteen-minutes. Tissue, Sneeze. Floor.

“—and I have this . . . uh . . . like this real bad itch on my eye. I keep rubbing and rubbing but it doesn’t do shit! My eyesight’s gotten worse—It’s already fucked up but this is just different. My roommate hissed at me about getting blood all-over the carpet floors if I kept scratching my scales. Oh. Oh! I’ve been snee—achew!” Alligator snot lands on the pastel-pink floors of the clinic.

Your eyes twitch.

He takes another tissue and waves it around his head. “The top of my head is killing me. Ya’know where that is right?” He blows his nose. “It’s right here,” he says, inching his head closer to you. “The last nurse I went to was blind as a bat! Literally, she had the wings and everything. It was kinda hot.”

“I’m well aware of the location of your head,” you say. “You can lean back now.”

Tissue. Sneeze. Floor

Tissue. Sneeze. Floor.

Tissue. Sneeze. Floor.

Pastel pink floor.

Underneath the mix of feathers and hair strands, the bustling of the waiting room catches your ears. Someone curses, booming and violent at another waiting patient. A cough, a sigh, a barf. Painful curses erupt after that. You bring a hand to your ears, wincing as your eardrum ring. Pentagon City’s best and biggest hospital needs better doors, but those lazy sloth fuckers at the top invested at the first material they found.

The alligator sneezes into another tissue. He flicks it with his wrist, and it hits the pastel-pink wallpaper adorned with closed eyes. Maybe Belphegor should be the sin of Pride instead, considering all items are covered in her symbol.

“I really feel like t’was those exterminators ya’know?”

You do not, in fact, know. Half of what this young man says is incomprehensible.

His snout sways left to right when he shakes his head. “It’s only my second one, and this was a close call, and uh . . . well, ever since then I’ve been like this. One even got to my roommate. “

You hum, leaning back on your chair. You should petition to for thicker doors. And while you’re at it, better interior design, and better paint—something that isn’t pastel pink.

“Ugh, and it’s so not cool that this new roommate of mine’s been shedding since the day they moved in,” he says.  “Speaking of shedding, do you think it’s because of those exterminators? Do you think they like spread some sort of weird pollen to make us sick? They’re totally the type to do that.”

You take your pen—your pastel-fucking-pink pen—and poke his alligator sinuses.

Hell does have its own brand of humor. You gave your 20s to studying human anatomy, only to die and find yourself with the need to re-learn the boring part of biology.  (Two books on reptiles, four on mammals, and fifteen on sea creatures.)

“YEOWCH!” His teeth stick out again. You do not know what this means.  “What kind of nurse ar—“

“Doctor.”

“—you? That’s not the top of my head!”

You push back on of the feathers on your head. “Your roommate ‘hissed’ at you? And they’ve been shedding fur for two weeks now.?

“Yeah . . . ?”

You stare at him. “Have you ever considered that you’re allergic to your roommate?”

“Ooooooooooh,” he says. ‘Yeah, I was allergic to cats back when I was alive.”

You grab your (pastel-fucking-pink) prescription pad from the desk drawer. “Control it with some antihistamine. Four pills every 12 hours.”

His teeth start showing. You’re not sure if he’s frowning. It’s hard to tell. “Pills, really?”

You toss what you were writing into the massive pile of germs, mucus, and tissue. “I can give you a nasal spray. I’ll flush the mucus then insert a spray that prevents build-up,” you say. “They last for two weeks and then you’ll need to come back.”

He grabs the last tissue from the box. It still lands on your floor. “Ma’am nurse, do you have any more of this?”

You sigh and reach for a fourth box of tissue. “It’s doctor,” you say. “We keep nasal sprays here in the clinic. I’ll just grab one and you’ll be out in fifteen minutes.”

“No can do,” he says. “Before I died, my coach told me to stay away from that non-organic shit. It’ll mess us up real bad apparently. All those steroids.”

“You have phencyclidine sticking out of your coat pocket.”

“Pheny—what?”

“ . . . Angel Dust.”

“The porn star?”

“The drug. You have drugs sticking out of your coat pocket.”

“Come on, nurse—”

Threads erupt from your fingers. It snakes around his wrist, coiling and twisting.

He jerks his arm away and cries out when you tighten your hold. Your threads wrap around his legs. It pulls against his waist. Magic binds his arms, and tightens around every joint he owns.

You stop, only when the alligator struggles, trashing against the clinic chair.  His teeth bare and he snaps at whatever he can reach. You tug on one of the thousands of strings digging into his skin. His jaw snaps shut, and it will stay shut. Another tug and his back stretches to straighten. You move your fingers as if a piano laid before you, and he sits up like a good puppet.

Another month of clinic dury will be your punishment if those sloth from down below are lucid enough to do their jobs.Sadly, killing this idiot would have you suspended for three months.

“I am a doctor,” you tell him. “Do not make me repeat myself.”

The tension on your strings marks even the few scales scattered on his body. He’s a real idiot if he continues to struggle.

Delicate movements of your fingers bring him forward, his back still strained, and tilt his snout at a forty-five-degree angle.

Your threads elongate as you move toward the clinic drawers. It loosens around you, careful at keeping you able to move freely. It’s one of the handier parts of your magic. You shake your hands and the threads detach. It sticks to the floor to keep the alligator as your puppet. You scrub your hands thoroughly before taking the nasal spray and filling with with distilled water.

You place on nitrite gloves. It’s always best when dealing with bodily substances such as mucus.

You place a pan underneath and jam the tube up his nostrils, hosing his sinuses with water. The tension of his binding keeps him still. (If you ignore his whining, then that’s your business. The brawl you heard from the waiting room drowned it all out anyway.) He starts breathing better when all the snot flushes to the pan.

“Finished,” you say with satisfaction. You grab your prescription pad and write one for a nasal spray. “I cleared the mucus buildup so you shouldn’t feel any more headaches. The spray will keep your nose clear for as long as you use it. Come back if you start to feel any discomfort. For the rashes just get cream.” You point at the pastel pink door. “The exit’s right there.”

The threads dissolve in the air. He rubs his wrist, trying to soothe the red marks that your strings bring. You hand him the signed prescription.

He doesn’t close the door on his way out.

The broom and dustpan are hidden in one of the taller cabinets—pastel-pink like everything else in the room.

(Well, not everything. The radio sitting on the corner of the counter gives a splash of red into the room.)

You sweep the tissues into the dustpan. Your control over your strings is much more proficient when living beings are involved. Inanimate objects whip around when you use your magic on them, and radios have been difficult to purchase recently. It’s more convenient to clean using your own hands.

“Tagatha,” you call out when the floor is clean. “You can bring in the next one in.”

Silence is your reply.

“Tagatha?”

Your ears quirk. The noises are faint—an occasional cough, silent weeping, and muted voices coming from the television. You peek out the door, eyeing the crowd formed around the corner of the hall where a pAstel-pInK television mounts on the wall.

The door closes with a faint click. You sink into the cushions of the office chair. Vox’s yapping bore you. It was probably some man-child debate about the new extermination date.

Although . . . those serialized dramas he produces, sadly, are interesting enough to be consumed. If asked for your honest opinion, you’d tell them that they were a hot pile of smelly garbage, but you like to leave it playing mindlessly in the background.

Your husband will throw the television out the window the first chance he’ll get.

Too bad he’s occupied.

You grab a piece of paper from the drawer. Management is forcing you to write a thousand-word formal apology. There are about three-hundred words left to write.

Getting caught dissecting the dead bodies from the morgue is a mistake that won’t be repeated. One dead body and suddenly those lazy fuckers have diligence weaved into their DNA.

The body was already dead, and it’s not every day a chance to poke around a chimera’s entrails appears.

The sinner would contribute to something meaningful at least. You’re stuck on clinic duty until you dot your last sentence, and not a moment before

The coffee’s cold now, but consumable.

You reach across the desk, feeling for the knob of the radio. You twist until you feel the clink. Music fills the air—the same twenty-five songs on a loop. You stare at the radio for a moment. Just . . . a small . . . single moment.

 . . . On your kitchen counter, that second cup of coffee should be cold by now. It’s always cold when you trudge through the door. It’s been cold and untouched for years.

Yet, without fail, that second cup you brew will always be waiting for its owner.

“Salutations!” You snap your head to the radio. “Good to be back on the air.”

Huh? The feather on your hair preens. You swipe the radio, your hold on it feather-light.  You turn the knob responsible for volume. The static noise stings your eardrums.

“—ile since someone with style treated hell to a broadcast. Sinners rejoice!”

Murmurs erupt outside your door. You blink and find yourself slamming it open. One foot after another, one step after the other, brings you closer to the television. Your shoulder throbs when you bump into someone, but you keep pushing until you see Vox and his tacky suit enlarged on the screen.

“What a dated voice!”

A reply comes from the radio. “Instead of a clout-chasin’ mediocre video podcast.”

Your feather rises higher. Laughter escapes your lips, it leaves a dry taste. That . . . that ṁ̵̭͔̲̙̦͎̝̜̲̠͙͇̂̏̃̐̂̓̊̂̕̕o̴̢̭̝̙̤̬͚͐̅͗̌̇̂̌̕ţ̷̛̝̂̿h̶̯̟̙̲̘̟̟͙͔̔̋͊̋̿̐͘͜͜ę̶̗̰͔̫͔̗̝̘̻̰̓̓̈̊͜r̵̨̂̏f̶͖̻̱̺͕̹̫̭̠̚u̸̬̺̯̟̦͖̅̂́́̌̚͝ć̴̖͙̰͈͕̉͌̈́́̈̔̀̉̍́͜͠ḳ̴̨̧̗̫̗͖̞̟̑͌̂̀̈́̀͆͒ę̷̛͓̼̟͍̆̆́͆̾͛͝r̵̹̮̤͓̗̹̈́̎̉͌̾͌̏͑̋̚͝.

“Doctor!” Tagatha screeches when she spots you. “I am so sorry. I’ll bring in the next one right away!”

Your eyes are trapped by the screen and your ears by the radio. “It’s alrig—”

Tagatha grabs the closest person to her and shoves you back into the clinic. The door slams shut just as everything goes dark and silent. (Well, it’s not completely dark, once your eyes adjust you can still see as if the lights were open. Another small perk to this body). Your radio, along with the power, stopped working.

“Oh my!” Your new patient bleats.

“We have generators,” you find yourself saying. “I’m sure the power will come on in a minute.”

The cushions of the chair do little to ease your nerves. You pat your hair, trying to get it in control. A pile of feathers starts forming on the PASTEL-FUCKING PINK FLOORS. T̴̹̜͇̅̅͗͜H̶̰̗̄Ơ̶̡̡̻̗͖̋̎̓̓S̴̨͉̝̻͋̽̆́͆Ẹ̸̡̢͐͐͠ ̷̨͚̞̙̀͒̆̆͊Ŭ̵͕̲̪͇͓͐̚G̷̹̝̦̬͊͒Ḷ̶̭͓̎̏̈͘Y̶͇̟̍̉̚ ̷̟͎͕̞͂͑̂̇À̶͉̍̄̈̚S̸͖̖͕͑̏͛̈́S̶͚̤̼̯̀ ̶̻͆P̷̬̝̉Ä̵͕́͊̌S̸̢͍̆̓͝Ṫ̸͖̲̠̾̉͜͝E̷̺͆L̷͖̏͐́͝ ̶̛̟̽͝P̷̪̔͜I̴̹̥̹͖̮͒́̏͘N̸̳̙̼̾̆̿Ķ̶̟̞̜̉͊̓̂̚ ̵͈̬̃̿̄̈́̋F̵̨̨̼̫̘͘L̸̙̠͎̓̆́O̷̧̘͚͉̤̓O̷̤̟̱̼̤͋̍͐R̷̰̝̓͌̌Ș̵̲̝̈́ “Excuse me?” You will paint this room red with the blood of management.  You tap your foot again, and again, and again. “ . . .Doctor?”

Your neck snaps in her direction, eyes wide and staring.

“The . . . uh . . . the lights are back.”

You blink at your patient—huh, she’s a goat. “I apologize,” you say, smiling. “Please, tell me, what brings you here in this hellish afternoon.”

She holds up her bleeding arm. “It’s been like this since the extermination,” she explains. “Some angle got me. Luckily, I was able to run off before I was finished. I thought it would heal on its own like it usually does but it just hasn’t. It keeps bleeding.”

“Well, angel-induced injuries are my specialty,” you say. Tucked away to the side, a mirror hangs. You catch your reflection, and you blow your hair away from your vision, your red sclerae “This will cost you. Injuries caused by angels are . . . difficult to stitch, but not impossible—not for me at least.”

“Oh, yes.” She bleats one more “Dear God, where are my manners? I’m sorry can I ask for your name?”

Your smile widens. “Of course. I’m—"

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite a pleasure!” One hand reset on his chest, and the other shoots into the air. It’s the bow you did in high school, back when you wanted theater to pay your bills. A performer’s bow.

You chuckle. “I don’t think it will be quite the pleasure you think.”

“Is that so?” Alastor’s smile remains constant. “And why would that be?”

You show him the tray you’re holding. “I’m here to do your sutures.” He steps closer to take a peek. You watch him as his eyes gloss over your matches then your needle driver, then the alcohol lamp. His smile wobbles when he lands on the syringe.

You move the tray, dropping it down on the little cart by the examination chair.

“There’s no need to worry.” You beam at him. “I have the steadiest hands in this city.”

“Hmmmm,” he says. “You must be the other doctor then.”

“Not at all.” You point to your uniform, where the initial ‘NP’ is embroidered next to your name. “Just the nurse practitioner.”

He takes a closer look and reads your name. “Then I have no reason to fret. None at all! In my experience, doctors usually have their noses buried in their books. It’s the nurses that actually get the hands-on experience.” Alastor’s hands move when he talks. “What’s such a talented practitioner doing in such a dinged-up clinic?”

“Management caught me in the morgue dissecting the dead—It’s how I practice my stitches.”

“Really, now?”

You bark a laugh. “Not at all—I’m far too smart to get caught.”

“A witty sense of humor and a steady hand! I am in good hands, indeed.”

You take a seat on the rolling stool. “Yes, yes,” you say, waving your wrist. “You make fine compliments, Sir. I’ll be sure to be extra gentle.” You point towards the examination chair. “But, please hurry to the chair. You’re dripping blood on my floor.”

Alastor glances down. His eyebrows furrow as he glares at where the blood seeps from his sleeve . . . almost . . . almost as if he’s angry. “My apologies,” he says, allowing his blood to drip to the floor.

Alastor shrugs off his coat. It’s rare to see such a dark red—only a few choose such a color. You hum. Alastor is a well-dressed gentleman. Lovely. Those are your favorite kind. He drapes his coat over the spare chair, ignoring the coat racks the clinic provides.

You turn away and wheel yourself closer to one of the drawers on the counter. It takes two attempts until you find the stash of sterile gloves. “Take your seat when you’re ready,” you say. “I’ll take a look once you are.” You place the gloves on the little green cart, right next to your tray.

Alastor takes his seat, landing with an audible ‘humph’. He smiles at you, sleeves rolled and arm ready. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

You hold your palm out. “May I?”

His smile wobbles—it’s a small change in expression that you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t looking. “Of course.”

Along his forearm, a long and sharp cut wounds him. The sight of grime that covers the opened abrasions makes you inwardly cringe. You need to clean these as soon as possible. “Why was this not checked sooner?” You rest his hands on the armrest and use your foot to bring the cart closer. “This looks old, and not at all like a freshly deep cut. I prefer it when patients come to me with fresh wounds.”

You grab a bowl with distilled water and pour in a sterile solution. “I assumed it would heal on its own,” he tells you. “It was quite a surprise when it did not.”

“I need to clean this before you die of infection.” You dip his arm into the bowl. He remains silent, but you feel the tension of his muscles under your fingers. “Hopefully there will be no next time, but just in case, next time, please don’t wait a month.”

He laughs, and there, you faintly see it—a twitch in his eye. “It was only a week actually.”

You smile to yourself. “I’d prefer it if it was only a few hours.” You dry his arm with a soft towel, his arm still tensed underneath your touch. “There, much better.”  You release your hold to go to a shelf filled with different labeled vials and select the one you need. With the clean syringe, you draw the contents of the vial. “You’ll feel a bit of a pinch,” you say. You tap its side. “It’s morphine— wouldn’t want you screaming and writhing”

You study his face for a second. There’s just that same dismissively polite smile.

“You can look away if you wish,” you tell him. “It’s why we pin such . . . er . . .interesting decorations around. . . . May I?”

You feel it again when Alastor inches his arm closer. His muscles tense under your touch. It’s almost as if he wishes to pull away. You keep your hold feather-light, but firm.

“Are you a hunter by any chance?” you ask. You don’t prick him—not yet. Not when tension coils in your hold.

“You could describe it that way,” he says, chuckling like he’s told a humorous joke. (You don’t understand why.)

“I figured you were.”

Alastor slides his glasses up the bridge of his nose. You inject the morphine into his skin, right inside the soft pink tissue. Good. Alastor relaxes when he speaks, it seems. “I do love a good hunt,” he says. “How ever did you know.”

You release your hold and discard the syringe. “Your hands are rough,” you tell him. “And hunters always have this silly notion that injuries magically heal given enough time—along with farmers, actually. Although, farmers are usually much more deluded.”

He flashes that same polite smile. “I'm guessing you’re not a hunter then?”

“How ever did you know?”

You watch his eyes flicker to your palms as you re-arrange the needles. “Delicate hands.”

You flash the same polite smile right back at him. You take a match, and light the alcohol lamp.

Soap spreads all over your palms and up your arm as you scrub your hands. You slip your hands into the sterilized gloves, careful not to contaminate the surface. “I’ll begin now.”

Alastor hums in reply.

You take a scapple and pass it over the flame. You poke him, lightly, but he doesn’t react. Satisfied, you cut back fibrous tissue underneath the skin. You replace the scapple with a needle driver. There was a quiet click when you pinch the tiny curved needle. You pass it over the flame as well. “Can you do me a favor? Can you tell me how many stars are on that wall over there?

Alastor turns to look at you, but you block his eyes with your palm, shielding him from your stiches.

“The wall isn’t over here.”

“I assure you, I’m not afraid of a silly needle.”

“I’m sure you are,” you say. “However, you’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word for it. The last three people who said that took one look and started squirming. One even fainted. It makes your life miserable, and my job harder.

He counts.

“Out loud please.”

He does as he’s told, rather reluctantly.

Hands steady and determination set, you pierce the soft pink tissue with your needle The tissue nearest to the surface is always delicate. You’re certain not to catch any fat in your suture, for fat dies, and a loose stitch is useless. “Well, isn’t this fun!” he says. “I really feel nothing.”

Your concentration does not break. “I don’t remember there only being twenty-six stars. I’m positive there are more.”

“Why is someone as talented as you only a nurse practitioner?”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a nurse,” you reply, tugging on the needle. “Well . . .we . . . we certainly could be paid more.”

“Why not become an actual doctor then?”

“My father couldn’t afford it. He wouldn’t send me . . . and . . . hmm.” You smoothly pull the suture thread and begin the next stitch. “And I enjoy this.”

He looks down at you. “Is this all you’ll be satisfied with?”

You focus back on your stitching, hiding your glare. You bring your needle underneath the flesh, making sure to catch the soft tissue. You’re doing an uncommon stitch, but it would be a shame to leave a scar. “You sound familiar.”

You pause to look at him, His smile brightens, and it actually looks like a genuine elated smile. “Why, I’m a radio broadcaster. You might have heard me there.”

“Oh yes,” you hum, turning back to your stitching. “Alastor . . . I remember now. The ladies and I listen to your broadcast as we do our crafts.”

“Knitting?”

“I personally prefer embroidery,” you say. “I get to practice my stitching and make beautiful art.” You pull the thread and begin a new one, stitching his skin like they were shoe laces. “You’re quite the humorous gentleman, I must say, and quite a lovely taste in music. We enjoy your broadcast very much”

“Do you have any of your artworks here?” he asks you. “I would be eager to see them.”

“Maybe next time.” You tug the suture, and his laceration snaps to a close. You tie a knot and snip the end. “Unfortunately, I’ve finished your stitches.”

“Next time then.”

You discard your gloves and go back to the shelf with the vials. You fill up another syringe. You jam the needle into his skin, not enough to hurt, just enough to scare him a bit. “To prevent infection.”

He jerks away from you. “What happened to that gentle touch of yours?”

“It’s still a sharp object, Sir. They tend to hurt.” You smirk and carefully clean the remaining blood on the skin around the sutured wound. You take a bandage from your cart and begin wrapping it around his forearm, covering your sutures. “Don’t forget to drink your pills every 8 hours, with a meal in your stomach, preferably. Replace the dressing every three days. You can come back here or if you’re able to do so, you can change them yourself. Any by the good God, please, visit the nearest hospital should this incident repeat.”

Alastor slides off the examination chair. He grabs his coat as if you didn’t just stitch him close. You start packing when you notice him fixing his bow tie, and smoothing his hair. Huh . . .There’s blood on his coat, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Like he’s used to having it there. Like it’s just something he’s learned to live with. “You were wrong by the way.”

“Pardon?”

“It was quite the pleasure to meet you.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Next Part |Part 2: Radio Will be Dead if He Doesn't Explain Himself| Hello, welcome to the hell that's been plaguing my head. In case you didn't know Belphegor is the ruler of the sloth ring, and she seems to be in charge of medical-related stuff in Hell. I have the story mostly plotted out, it's just a matter of writing it down. If you have any questions, ask away

[thebellearchives]

For your event, fluff prompt 13 for gojo satoru please 👉👈

𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓

~ satoru gojo ; jujutsu kaisen

✧˚ · . S Y N O P S I S : you’ve remained silent about your feelings for your long time friend Satoru for a while now, but when he’s the one being silent it’s suddenly not so normal

‧₊˚ c o n t e n t s : gn!reader, fluff, friends to lovers, reader is also a teacher at jujutsu high

‧₊˚ a / n : hope you like this anon because absolutely love how it turned out! i think it’s one of my favourite shots i’ve written!

The view from the classroom’s window wasn’t exactly breathtaking. Your eyes examined the training grounds below, covered by the night sky and the wind blowing through the tree branches. Insomnia had been your most trusted companion for a while, so even though you were tired from the workday for some reason your brain wouldn’t stop buzzing. The classroom’s door opened, a sigh escaped your lips knowing perfectly who had closed it back and walked up to you.

Satoru decided to stand next to you, resting his lower back against the desk just like you had been doing for the past thirty minutes or so. Both of you stared at the calm scenery in a comfortable silence, you wondered how much longer would it take him to start talking but as time passed he didn’t say a single word. Restless, your eyes furtively glanced at him, but he remained silent and holding that characteristic smile of his.

“So?”

“So?”

“Why are you so quiet all of a sudden?” you chuckled, curiously searching for an answer in his hidden eyes.

“What? Can’t I enjoy a moment of tranquility with my dear friend?”

You tried not to show how sour his comment had tasted to you, holding your smile and shifting in your place.

“Yeah, friend” your eyes went back to the window and quickly followed the conversation somewhere else “this friend of mine isn’t usually so silent. In fact, I doubt he even knows what the words “shut up” mean.”

The sorcerer snickered, jumping up and sitting on top of the desk.

“Just say you miss my beautiful voice.”

“Oh Satoru, I’m so glad you’re here, I missed your voice so much” you sat on the desk too, close to him.

“My beautiful voice” your friend corrected.

“I missed your beautiful voice so much!”

“I know dear, that’s why I came looking for you. I have this special ability of knowing when your heart sings for me so I run to find you and bless you with my presence” he leaned back and clocked his head towards you, a cheeky grin on his lips.

“You’re so considerate” you laughed, leaned in closer to him and flicked his nose.

“Ouch!” whining, he rubbed his nose and pouted “I’m so nice to you and you hurt me like this”

“Aww, sorry baby, let me kiss away the pain, alright?” you rolled your eyes, having no intention on actually following through.

“Alright” he grinned again, taking the bandages off his face.

As soon as his white hair fell down on top of his forehead his long lashes flickered towards you, stunning sky blue irises making sure to stop your heart immediately. He rested his weight on his elbow, keeping his undivided attention fixed on you and yours on him. The man was gorgeous, he had always been. And yes, it was probably so cliche of you to fall in love with your long time friend Satoru Gojo, but when he looked at you like that with that playful smile of his and those beautiful eyes there was no stopping the butterflies that fluttered uncontrollably inside of you, that longing for his love that burned deep down in your heart.

“Well?” he rose his eyebrows “where’s my kiss?”

You laughed again, making him laugh along with you.

“What makes you think I’m gonna kiss you?”

“I don’t know, maybe those deeply in love eyes you’re giving me”

Your face flushed immediately, you bit your lip for a second before giggling.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

His smile never left his face, he just licked his lips as his pupils examined your face and rested on your smile.

"When you laugh like that, it’s just - you're so beautiful, you know that?"

You probably blinked a bit too much, your eyes opened wide. It was normal for Satoru to make frisky flirty comments like that towards you, enjoying all the reactions he could get from you. But this one… this one was different. His fingertips then traced your jawline, guiding you closer to him. And so you followed, as naturally as chasing river flow, heart beating loudly in your ears. He tilted his head slightly, and then he softly kissed you. Lips caressing yours in a loving motion, a bit insistent, just a little bit curious, licking your lips and taking advantage of the surprised gasp you let out to explore your mouth with his tongue for a while. Your hand shakily traveled up his chest and your fingers weakly grasped the fabric in between. The kiss stopped just as softly and delicately as it had started, both of you lingering on each others mouths.

“I knew it.”

“What?”

“I always had a chance, didn’t I?” a sly smirk tugged from the corner of his lips, you frowned.

“I liked it better when you were silent” he giggled, but you smiled and kissed him again.

[moralesluvr]

so i have a few really close guy friends like we’re close to the point where they call me any time of day just to talk and I feel like 42!miles isn’t exactly the jealous type but if his girl had friends like that he would definitely side eye them and be kinda bitchy with his girl if she picks up the phone while they’re together

mine & only mine ft. miles morales

♡ pairings & aus: earth42!miles morales x black!fem!reader ♡ summary: after your boyfriend goes to get food, he walks in your room to see you on the phone with some dudes he's never seen before, and he acts out. ♡ warnings: banter-like arguing, suggestiveness maybe? one use of the n word ♡ a/n: thanks for your request!! ♡ got a request? | masterlist ♡

"I'M STARVING." You complained as you rested your head on your boyfriend, who was scrolling through TikTok while you relaxed in his lap. One of his hands was fidgeting with your coils, twisting them around his ringed fingers as he looked down at you. He cocked his head to the side as you pouted, "Me too, mami. What'chu got a taste for? I'll go pick it up."

"I was thinking wings, boneless lemon pepper?" You asked him, looking up at him with warm eyes. He gives you a nod and stretches, the hem of his white T-shirt slightly riding up, exposing his toned stomach. Smiling, you sit up as your boyfriend climbs out of bed and grabs a pair of shoes, "Bring some lemonade too, please."

He nods, grabbing his wallet before quickly giving you a placement of affection on your cheek, warmth sprouting on your skin as he told you that he would quickly be back with the food.

In the meantime, you sat on your boyfriend's bed as you scrolled aimlessly through social media. You were continuously clicking on 'Copy Link' and sending all the funny or romantic ones that you saw to your boyfriend, knowing that he'd probably end up watching them with you when he got home.

You were happily scrolling until your screen illuminated with one of your friend's names flashing on top. When your eyes scanned the letters that spelled out 'Amari', you found yourself grinning at the device as you clicked the green accept button.

Your friend's face lit up the screen as he waved at you, "Y/N! What's good? Haven't seen you in a hot minute!"

"Dude, I know, it's crazy," a laugh sounded from your throat as you propped yourself up on the bed, conversing with your old friend as he caught you up on the things that have occurred since you left your hometown to move to Brooklyn. He even gives the phone to his mom for a brief moment as you catch up with her, telling her how much you missed them and promising that you would visit in no time.

Although your conversation felt much shorter, it had to be at leas an hour long because you were still on the phone, giggling and laughing when your boyfriend got home. He called you twice to come down and eat with him, but he didn't understand why you weren't answering until he entered his bedroom.

You were propped up on the bed with your phone leaning against the TV, the TV that you were gaming on, Miles' purple controller in between both of your palms. You were laughing about something, violently clicking buttons as you won against whoever you were playing. Until Miles realized the boy that was on your phone screen, a controller also in his hand.

His jaw clenched.

He walked over to you, close enough to where he was in the frame, Amari's vision drifting to Miles and you. You looked up at your boyfriend as he gave you a sloppy kiss, tongue grazing over your lips as he grasped at your waist. A shaky breath left you as you hummed against his lips, before he pulled away from you with a 'pop'. He turned his attention to the screen, "Who the hell are you?"

"Amari?" Your friend questioned, almost as if he was assuming that your boyfriend should know who he was. Miles picked up on that tone and he immediately settled the phone in between his fingers, face all in the camera. He gave him a slick smile, "Ion know how you don't know me, 'cause I'm your friend's boyfriend," he gave you a hard look before looking back at your phone, "You can go now, 'lil nigga. Byeeeee!" He dragged out, waving sassily to Amari before hanging up the phone.

He then turned around to you, "Y/N, who the hell is that and why he don't know who I am? You just out here actin' single now?"

You rubbed your temples, preparing for the argument that was bound to bubble up from your lover. You looked at him with glossy eyes, "Baby, that's my friend. I haven't seen him since I moved so he called. He doesn't know you 'cause we haven't talked in forever."

"He like you?"

"No."

"How you know?"

"He has a girlfriend."

"Oh."

Miles gave you an apologetic face as you flattened your lips at him for acting out. He gave you a kiss on your forehead before murmuring an apology, swearing up and down that he just didn't want you being friendly with boys that probably liked you. He then took your hand and led you downstairs, where your meals were on opposites sides of your dining table, a small candle lit and the lights lower than usual. You giggled, "What's this?"

"An unexpected apology gift," he chuckled, arms snaking around your waist as one of his hands caressed your cheek, leaning into you as his soft lips connected with yours.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 ☻ thank you for reading!

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @enj4i // @chrissytalia // @chaoticevilbakugo // @motheroffae

𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑-𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓🕷️: @queenesther996 //@sukunas-slutty-bitch // @c3f21 // @wydney // @rinnyisnothere // @brieryann // @moisttowllet // @Dee-m-cee // @liliummz // @starhrtz // @daisydark // @randomhoex // @solanawrld // @whore4hobie // @tanakaslastbraincell // @simp4miguell // @nyrovi3 // @my3tumbles // @aziulsworld // @enchantingfoxsparkles // @mancerseedu // @cafehyunji // @personofyou // @mcdvsr // @kopiivie // @ellatienesuscosas // @venuswash3re // @calliarlerte // @pr0wlerpunk // @tzuyuzzs // @wisepoetrycheesecake // @clearskiiiess // @d3atht3hek1d // @vienreina // @pixqlsin // @caulifloweron // @aizawassimpblog // @stvrgrl // @zerosinterweb // @ishqani // @mookiebut

𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ✎: @Dee-m-cee // @euphorichappiness10 // @adoree-kaelynn // @mhadnirb // @mmst4rz // @iris-theflower // @fleurrieerecs // @kenlani // @kala2022 // @ilyless // @milesmolasses // @laylasbunbunny // @all444miles // @thecoloredpages // @bl00dsuccker // @evacowan // @popeheywardssecretgf

[xtrashmammalstefx]

Chaos Monster & Her English Gent (A Callum Turner x Reader Smut)

Warnings: Smut, language, kiddos under 18 do not interact!

Notes: When I said I've become a total slut for this man and his bf Austin I wasn't fucking around. Lemme know if y'all want an Austin smut/sequel because I totes have some ideas I think you'll like.

Looking back I don’t think any of us expected this to happened. I certainly didn’t and I was the one who had the most to lose if things had gone sour rather than go the way they did.

I’m getting ahead of myself though so I’ll just start where this whole mess began: the first time I visited Austin on the Masters of the Air set. I’d sneaked up behind Austin, my best friend for life and possibly longer, as he was talking to a rather handsome man with the most unimaginably contagious smile. I put my finger to my lips once he’d seen me and jumped onto Austin’s back. “’Sup Elvis!”

“PRISCILLA?! FUCK!” Austin turned and scooped me up. “YOU SCARED THE SHIT OUTTA ME BABE!”

I laughed and squeezed him back. “Well that’s what you get for taking for fucking ever to return my texts you ass!”

“Sorry ‘bout that sweetheart but duty called a hell lot more than I thought it would,” he said once I was back on the ground. “Oh,” he turned back to the smiling man. “By the way, Callum this is my best girl, Y/N, Y/N this is my new best friend Callum.”

“Nice to meet you my handsome replacement,” I said.

Callum smiled nearly bringing out a giggle from deep inside me. Fuck, he is good. “Pleasure’s all mine love, and I am definitely not replacing you. You’re more beautiful than I will ever be.”

Struck dumb by his buttery smooth British accent and killer icebreaker I turned to Austin. “He is a hell of a keeper.”

“Yeah I think so too,” Austin laughed. “So how long are you staying?”

“I’ve taken a week off work so I’m gonna be yours until about Sunday,” I said.

“Oh sweet. Can’t wait to show you off to the rest of the boys, they’re gonna love you,” Austin said as we started towards a couple other guys in period attire.

“Only until they get to know me,” I said. “Let’s see how they react once they see the true chaos monster you know and love.”

“Well, this is gonna be a right interesting week,” Callum said walking on the other side of me.

Of course he wasn’t wrong about that. The next few days were filled with me and Austin being a chaotic duo in front of his cast mates who were also quite chaotic themselves. I’m not sure how or when it started happening but whenever Austin was away either in costume or make-up, Callum and I started to talk. Barry would sometimes be there but most of the time it was just us.

“I’m really gonna miss having you around,” Callum said two days before I was due to leave. We were in his trailer. Austin was busy talking with his manager so I figured I’d bug Callum for a bit. He was changing out of his costume and into civilian wear while I hung out in his make up chair.

“You act as if you don’t have my number and social medias,” I said. “I’m heading home, not dying.”

“Well, talking with you on a phone or in DM’s isn’t exactly the same as having you here,” Callum continued.

“What can you possibly say that can’t be said over the phone?”

“It’s not what I wish to say but rather what I wish to do that can’t be done over a phone call,” he said starting towards me wearing nothing but his boxer briefs which left little to nothing to the imagination.

“And what exactly is it that you wish to do good sir?”

He smirked and started leaning down. “This,” his lips connected with mine. His plump lips were soft and warm as he kissed me. It wasn’t enough to send me off the edge and before I knew it I had my arms around him letting him carry me to the small couch. Once there he pulled back and brought his lips down to my neck. As he left what I was sure was gonna be a massive hickey I reached down and started palming him through his underwear. He groaned at the feeling, his body trembling on top of mine.

“I’m a bit overdressed don’t you think?” I breathed. He smiled and sat up. I reached down and lifted my shirt over my head. He took it from me and tossed it to the side before reaching for the zipper and button on my pants. Not even a minute later I was fully bare in front of him.

“God you’re so beautiful,” he whispered pecking me on the mouth. “So. Fucking. Beautiful.” As he started to kiss me again I nudged at his briefs, doing my best to get them off. Callum got the hint though and pulled them off tossing them with my clothes. I think he could see how big my eyes got at the sight of him for he chuckled softly and said, “Like what you see, darling?”

I had no idea how to answer. If I’d though he was big when flaccid it was nothing compared to how endowed he was when he was hard.

I looked from his crotch up to his face as he continued to look at me quizzically with that smile that didn’t seem to go away. “C’mere,” I said moving from the couch to the floor beside it. He laid himself on top of me sending a shiver through me as his dick brushed my folds, ghosting my entrance. He reached down, gave himself a tug and placed himself there.

“Okay, love?” he asked. I nodded and just like that he was inside me. I clung to him as my body got use to the stretch. Callum cussed a rainbow of curse words in my ear as I enveloped him. His thrusting began soon after.

Turns out Callum is a gentleman in every sense of the word. He kept his movements slow at first, not daring to go faster or harder without my say so. Once the stinging subsided I brought my mouth to his, kissing him harder before telling him, “Harder… I need you to go harder.” With that he picked up the pace, almost slamming completely into me. “FUCK!”

“You’re taking me so well darling, fuck!!” He took me into his arms and slowly lifted me up, still thrusting into me. I held onto him moving up and down as he sat back. I rode him like that for a while until he lied completely back, putting me in charge for a bit.

As I moved my body conscious of the fact that I could see a small bump pulsating in my lower stomach, Callum reached down and started rubbing me with his long fingers. I bit back a scream at the feeling but let him keep playing with clit. It made me feel alive in a way I couldn’t put into words and before I knew it I was riding him like my life depended on it.

We continued like that until I began to feel the pressure build up inside me. “Oh fuck I’m gonna cum!”

“It’s alright, darling, just...just let go on my cock,” he said grabbing my ass and slamming me harder on his length. The pressure continued to grow more intense, until finally I was screaming and tightening around him. As I remained clamped down on his length Callum wrapped his arms around me and flipped us back over so that he was on top.

He continued to thrust as I came down from the most mind boggling orgasm of my life. I was still seeing stars when Callum’s thrusts became sloppy. Suddenly the gentle boy I’d been falling for became beastly, almost roaring as he twitched inside me, filling me up until there wasn’t a single drop left in him.

My body was still shaking, my cunt throbbing, as he pulled out and collapsed beside me.

“That was… incredible...magical even…”

“It was the best damn shag of my life,” Callum said breathless making me giggle. I turned my body to face him and cringed at the soreness between my legs. “You alright love?”

“Mentally and emotionally speaking I’m fucking great,” I said. “Physically speaking...fuck… Callum, I love you with every fiber of my being and will gladly do this again and again with you but god damn I think you just about broke me in half.”

He laughed at that and kissed my now swollen lips. “So, you agree then? To be my girlfriend I mean.”

I looked up at him and smiled. “I’m pretty sure I’m more than that. I mean, I did just say I love you, and lord knows those are words I don’t say to just anybody.”

“Just to the lad who shags your brains out?” I slapped him playfully on his chest. “Only joking darling. I love you too, and I don’t say those words to just anybody either.”

“Just to the girl that rode you and milked you for every last drop of cum in your body?”

“Actually, I believe I just said them to the girl I want to marry.”

“Quite the fast one aren’t you?”

“Only when I know deep down in my bloody heart and bones that I don’t want to do this with anyone else,” he said.

“Alright, but there’s something we gotta do first… Something pretty damn risky.” He looked at me questioningly.

“And that is?”

I looked up and smiled nervously. “We gotta tell Austin.”

“OH FUCK!”

[banquetwriter]

can u write a smut of an insecure plus sized goth reader x johnnie please? she's a virgin and after being together for a few months she asks him could they do it, and he eats her out n fucks her n stuff 🙏🙏 make it really soft pls and thank u i love ur work btw 🖤🖤

୨୧ Batty love ୨୧

pairing: Johnnie Guilbert ♡︎ goth!fem!Reader

warnings: ୭̥⋆*｡ smut, losing virginity, getting eaten out, general shenanigans

summary: ʚ johnnie isn’t gonna let you being inexperienced stop him from devouring you ɞ

Words: 2234

An: i know this isn't the best but I'm legitimately do sick rn 😞

SUPPORT ME

You haven't stopped looking at your phone for at least two days. Johnnie, your boyfriend, had just hard-launched your relationship for the first time on Instagram. And to your shock, 95% of the comments were so positive. Everyone complimented your goth appearance.

This much praise was addicting. Being plus size meant a lot of insecurities made by the pathetic losers of society. There were of course a few nice comments… those weren't the ones you kept staring at. Criticizing your looks or body.

Johnnie had warned you about this happening, and you promised him the world knowing about you two was worth it, and it was, but god did it hurt. Johnnie Was out streaming with Jake today so that left you alone for a good few hours.

It was useless trying to wait around crying over some loser online who couldn't handle the fact their celebrity crush didn't pick them. You sat up rubbing your face carefully not trying to hit your piercings at all. You scrolled around on your phone’s playlist before connecting to a speaker.

You started to shift through your closet to come up with an outfit. Maybe you and Johnnie could go out tonight? It was hard to get dressed in full goth normally, especially when you weren't feeling good about yourself.

You settled on a long black skirt with silver shiny bats that were sporadically speckled on it and paired it with an ‘i ❤️ emo boys’ t-shirt with a corset. You put your outfit on by pairing your black stockings and fishnet top for your arms.

You sat down at your desk singing along to your beloved playlist. You turned your light on your mirror searching for your hair clips. You managed to locate them by clipping your hair out of your face. Your music was briefly interrupted by a text notification.

You pick up your phone and it is from Johnnie, ‘should be done soon. Just filmed for Jake's, we're gonna do mine now. Probably just dick around Walmart or something. See you soon love 🖤’ you smiled at his text.

You responded back within seconds ‘Have fun filming (but not too much fun without me lol) 🖤🖤’

You sat your phone down, adjusting your shirt, and you started on your makeup. You put on primer, then foundation, the concealer, and to finish your base off you pack on some powder letting it sit on your face. You pulled out your phone and snapped a selfie of your half-done make-up.

You stuck your tongue off a little for the picture. You posted it on your main Instagram story with a goth song of course. Your Instagram gained quite a few followers from Johnnie’s post. It was exciting and also very scary.

You decided the powder baking on your face was about done so you brushed it off. You grabbed your contour brush and packed some onto it. You started to carve your face onto the white base using the black powder.

Now it was time for your eye makeup. It was the hardest part. You spent a good while meticulously adding your eyeliner and eyeshadow. Once you were done, sufficiently looking like a bat, you finished it off with black lipstick and some setting spray.

You put on accessories and teased your hair to high heaven. And you were all ready. You sprayed some perfume on and looked in the mirror. Fuck did you look good. You posed a little admiring yourself, you took your phone out again and decided to take a few pictures.

This time you posted them as posts and not a story so anyone could say anything. It scared you but you couldn't hide forever. You were dating Johnnie and no one could change that.

It took only a few minutes before the comments came rolling in. All of which were positive, it made your heart soar with all the compliments. You were smiling until you read one: ‘Johnnie eating good tonight’ . It was a nice comment and funny naturally.

There was just one issue. You and Johnnie haven't had sex yet, and furthermore, you have never had sex. Ever. Sure you used a few toys here and there but never has another person shared such an intimate moment with you. You had already worried yourself sick about this. Johnnie Was sexually active and therefore, inevitably he would want to have sex with you.

You were ready… you think at least. You wanted to, of course you did, have you seen your boyfriend? He was such a fucking hottie. You had plenty of dreams of ripping his clothes off and going under the covers. You were just nervous.

You did actually weigh a lot more than your boyfriend and no offense to him he wasn't exactly built to handle all you could offer. The nerves rattled through your body. But you were a full-grown woman and there wasn't anything wrong with taking your time to have sex.

If Johnnie didn't understand that (which you're sure he would) then this wasn't the relationship for you. You shook your thoughts of breaking up with Johnnie away. This wasn't a time to worry.

It was only a few more minutes before Johnnie came home. He stepped into your apartment, and he stopped when looking at you. His jaw faltered open. “Wow, how are you mine?” he asked, closing the door, his hands wrapping around your waist.

“From your strapping good looks and charm of course.” you purred, moving a strand of his hair from his face. You planted a small kiss on his now-exposed skin. “Yeah sure,” he murmured against your hair, planting a small kiss on the top of your head.

You smiled at him, your eyes holding each other. His eyes seem to almost darken looking at you. You pull him into a kiss, one he gladly returns. His hands are holding onto your corseted waist. Even through the thick fabric, you can feel him clutching your body.

Your kisses got more heated as he started to move his hands down your body. You had done this with him before. It didn't scare you much anymore. Of course it was nerve-racking, but not scary. His touch felt so nice even if it was through your clothes.

He slowly moaned into your mouth as you gently tugged his hair. “Fuck,” he muttered slowly pulling away from you. He wrapped his hands into your pulling you towards your couch. Your nerves jumped into your throat knowing what was coming.

And yes you wanted to so fucking bad, you needed your hot boyfriend inside you. He gently pushed you onto the couch, you fell back ruining your cute decorative pillows. He positions himself between your legs, his mouth hungry to devour all of you.

You wanted to enjoy him you really did but your heart was pounding out of your chest with nerves. “Johnnie-” you asked quietly against his lips. He pulled back sensing your worry. “We haven't done anything yet-” you started, unsure how to keep going you stayed silent.

“It's fine if you don't wanna, you know, tonight.” he spoke softly, “No trust me I want to. It's just that I've never done that before. I've never had sex before.” you confessed. You could see his eyes widen. You felt like you were holding his breath.

“Woah, really?” he asked, leaning towards you, a small cheeky smile plastered on his lips. “Yeah, not that I’m waiting for marriage or something but I don't know I just haven't yet,” you said shrugging. “That's ok, are you still down to or?” he asks, staring at you sheepishly.

“Of course I am, I just need you to be slow I guess,” you whispered to him. He glances at your lips for a minute, “I can do that.” he says before your lips crash onto one another.

His hand crept down to your ankle and slowly started to run his hand up your legs, he reached the end of your stocking. He hooked his fingers over the clothing and pulled them off your body repeating it for your other leg.

He looked into your eyes as he slipped his hands back under your skirt, hooking delicate fingers over your panties and slowly pulling them off your body. The feeling of his hands on your thighs was sending waves of pleasure to your core.

You've been horny before but nothing compared to the feelings you felt as your boyfriend slowly lowered to his knees. Kissing up and down your legs. “Are you doing ok?” he asks between kisses up your thighs.

“Y-yeah I'm good,” you said quietly, eyes watching Johnnie like a hawk. He smirks against your skin. He slowly pushes your skirt up your body revealing your bare legs. He placed a tender kiss on the top of your cunt.

You swore you could see stars with the amount of pleasure That coursed through you. The end of your fingers and toes felt tingly and cold. Johnnie moved up to face again, he slowly started to kiss you again. “M’gonna move my hand now. Like my fingers ok?” he said against your lips.

“Ok,” you whispered back, and you spread your legs widely for him. He slowly dipped his finger into your sopping cunt. You let out a gasp at the sensation. He slowly pumped his finger in and out of you. It felt good but it wasn't enough for you.

As if Johnnie could read your mind, he pumped out of you once again. When he entered back in he had two fingers this time. It stung for a second or two then pleasure returned to your body as he started to curve his finger into you.

“Oh fuck.” you moaned out, you can guess how people get addicted to this feeling. You felt like a little pervy teenager with raging hormones. The feeling of Johnnie hitting your G-spot repeatedly was sending you over the edge.

“Johnnie.” you mewled out, to nothing in particular. “I need more please,” you begged, having a sense of missing something. “If you insist on it my love.” he pulled out of you, his fingers dripping wet. You watched as he crouched down further.

He kissed slowly on your thighs before reaching your clit. He pressed a soft kiss right on your spot. You felt yourself clench over nothing and it drove you wild. He continued kissing down until he reached your hole. He slowly prodded his tongue into you.

Very gently at first to help you get used to the feeling. You felt the pleasure tenfold as soon as he began to rub your clit, fully pumping his tongue in and out of you. “Oh fuck hold on,” you murmured to him.

He stopped cocking his head slightly. You quickly snap off your corset, immediately releasing tension in your gut. You quickly pulled your shirt off, your bra going with it.

You were now naked minus the skirt bunched up around your waist. “M’fuck.” he whispered looking at your tits. He had what looked like a painful erection at this point. His skinny jeans looked like they were gonna burst open.

“You ready?” you asked him, gesturing to his painfully hard erection. “Fuck yeah,” he whined undoing his studded belt, he started to further undress himself. You followed suit pushing your skirt down.

Once he was completely naked, he leaned down and started to kiss you again. He wrapped his hand around his cock and pumped a few times attempting to get ready for your body. After about a minute he lined up his leaking cock to your entrance.

He slowly pushed into you. You let out a wanton gasp as he bottomed out. “Fuck.” he growled into your ear. He fumbled around trying to find your hand and brought it down to your clit. You started to rub to your pleasure.

At the same time, he started to push into you slowly at first then after a minute he began to push into you at a quicker pace. “Fuck your so tight. So glad I get this pussy all to myself,” he whined into your ear. You couldn't hold yourself anymore. The coil in your stomach was going to snap.

You felt The familiar feeling bubbling in your stomach and your limbs. “Im gonna fucking cum.” you whined out, grabbing at his torso and leaving a long scratch. Johnnie held your eye contact nodding at you.

The coil finally snapped, your walls clenching around him. “Johnnie-” you whined, your back arching. Your body shaking from your orgasm, sent him completely over the edge.

Hit ropes of cum splattered inside you as he fucked you through his own orgasm. Your breath slowly returned back to your body as you saw Johnnie cleaning your body up with a damp towel.

“Are you ok?” he asked quietly, tossing the rag into the laundry basket. He misses but he just took his girlfriend's virginity so he isn't particularly worried about where it landed. “Yeah I'm fucking great right now actually,” you murmured.

He giggles pulling his clothes back on. You did the same, pulling out your phone to see your makeup completely fucked. Your eyeliner and mascara dripped down, the sweat sucking your makeup into your skin, your lipstick beyond fucked.

You pulled out your phone and snapped one last photo for your Instagram

[ghost-bxrd]

“This is where you live?”

Jason drops the duffle bag on the counter, “Yeah. It’s no manor, kid. I told you.”

He’s not self conscious. He’s not. This apartment is fuckin’ nice ok? He spent a lot of money on decor and proper kitchenware and furniture and shit.

But Jason also knows that, objectively speaking, it doesn’t hold a candle to Wayne manor and its fifty-something bedrooms. That place is basically its own country.

Bruce nods.

“I like it,” he says solemnly, walking over towards the window to peek through the blinds. The view from up here isn’t exactly panorama level but the building is one of the tallest in Crime Alley and Jason’s apartment is on the top floor, so it does provide a pretty good view of a good portion of the Alley. “It doesn’t feel as empty.”

Jason pauses where he’s resetting the traps and alarms by the door, glancing over his shoulder to where Bruce is starting to tentatively explore the living space and is struck by how violently out of place the boy looks with his rigid posture and elegantly curved eyebrows. Even the plain hoodie, faded hand-me-down jeans and ridiculous wool cap aren’t enough to hide how utterly not Crime Alley born-and-bred he is. Everything about Bruce is basically screaming rich-Bristol-trust-fund-kid.

Which, yeah. Checks out.

Jason clears his throat and clicks the security on, waiting for the small light at the side to switch from green to red.

“Your room’s the one down the hall to the left. Right one is mine. Door at the end of the hall is the bathroom.”

Bruce hikes his backpack up higher on his shoulder, eyes eerily vacant as always, but Jason wants to think that there’s a sliver of curiosity behind that steely gaze anyways as he inclines his head and makes his way down the hall.

As soon as the kid vanishes around the corner Jason allows himself a moment to exhale and run a hand down his face tiredly.

Jesus fucking Christ.

What was he thinking.

How the fuck is he supposed to raise a tiny Bruce Wayne with his older furry counterpart running around Gotham at night hunting criminals? Criminals like Jason?

Nothing. He was thinking nothing. And it’s about to bite him in the ass.

No way can he build a criminal empire and take over the drugs and weapons trade with a traumatized nine year old dependent on him.

God dammit.

[shmaba]

I’m going to assume that at this point you’ve all seen Critical Role’s new show Candela Obscura and at least skimmed through the Quickstart Guide (you have done all that riiiight??) So I wanted to compile all the things I’ve done that have been shown so far. Its long so read below the line!

I’m going to try to avoid spoilers. So feel free to read without worry. I’m also going to try and avoid breaking any NDA like a good professional. So I will not be doing some deep dive behind the scenes thing. Only visuals that have already been publicly shared are going to be on here

The very first thing I did on this show was the concepts for the main set. Everything is practical. Nothing is green screen or cg or whatever. Some people think it’s just good cg but nope that's all real. You could touch it! (don’t touch it, there are ghosts)

There were multiple iterations on the design, each with their own vibe and statement piece. CR narrowed it down to what you see in the show: a sort of storage hall with an odd clock contraption behind the GM. I think I called this design version the “Abyssal Hall” or something like that (I gave the different versions names to better keep track of which design was being discussed)

The company Flip This Bitch built the physical set. They turned my silly little art into a real thing. So they did all the actual magic of making this set come together in the end! They deserve a lot of the credit for it looking so good in the end.

Also that little piece of art in the bottom left of the preshow is a section from the final concept art of the set.

That contraption behind Matt is based on astrolabes and clocks. This isn’t really meant to be a literal astrolabe or a clock as we would use them in our world. Narratively this isn’t a device that measures either of the things that a traditional astrolabe or clock does. This is a special magickal tool that does a secret third thing.

Also I did concepts for the GM screen. You don't really see it besides in the fancy-shmancy preshow. There were a number of more intricate designs for it but CR went with the simpler option since the only part that would be visible on stream is the top, so that's where I put the most detail.

I should also note that I did not design the logo! It’s pretty prominent on the GM screen but I was supplied an already existing logo for this.

NEXT is the Taliesin enclosure set that you see in the trailer. This is actually meant to be like the lantern room on the top of a lighthouse, minus the big light beacon (You could say Taliesin is the beacon).

Also in the trailer you see a couple brief sketches I did for some world building concepts:

Speaking of sketches there are a number of art pieces of mine in the Quickstart guide

A lot of my art is sketches. They’re all meant to be like notes and drawings from members of Candela as they travel and notate their findings. Most of the notes on these sketches are my actually my notes when I was doing world building concepts, but they replaced my handwriting with a font because my handwriting sucks lmao (also likely for ease of future localization).

Also the cover of the Quickstart guide uses line art of a part of that astrolabe clock set piece. This line art was part of the deliverables that was sent over to Flip This Bitch for construction. They’re just using pieces of those set concepts everywhere!

As you can see I’ve done a lot of art for this project. I was part of this project when it was still early in development. It’s changed quite a bit from where we started. 

I wasn’t the only one that made all this art happen though. Other artists, writers, and designers got to add their own vision to this. It was very much a collaborative effort that took a long time to happen. It’s very exciting to see everyone’s hard work come to fruition and there is a lot more to come!

[wayfayrr]

hey uh. if requests r open. would it b possible to request a follow up to that self-aware-twi fic. if not thats ok i just wanted u to know i havent stopped thinking about it since i read it. altered my brain chemistry, touch-starved twilight princess link my beloved, etc etc. ur writing is top-tier <3<3<3

I think the best part about this ask is - I've had this written since early January. I actually wrote part two as a birthday gift for a good friend of mine @glowyskull <33

So this is more just me finally posting it sfbgdfbgdb. it's also funny to think that the twilight fic is my most popular fic now considering how the self aware au really started as just a really guiltily self indulgent fic - something fun to write that I didn't think could get as big as it did on my blog. and I'm glad that you liked it so much <333 whimpery touch starved twilight princess link is just so AUGH love him so

[masterlist]

“Oh you’re finally wakin up then darlin’.”

“...hmm?”

“C’mon darlin’, you can’t have forgotten what happened earlier already? Can you? Your fever - cold isn’t that bad so you can't have…”

Who’s rambling… and why does it sound so familiar?  Wait does that mean - is everything that happened earlier all real then, did link really crawl out of my tv just because he was lonely. Because I left him there, left him all on his own to rot in his own solitude. 

“Link? You - that - everything was real then? All of it?”

“All of it darlin’, from how I got out to how I’m never gonna leave ya.”

“Huh..? I could’ve sworn that you didn’t even mention anything like that…”

“Mhm, well you’re ill and still a little out of it darlin’ so you probably just forgot, you did agree though.” 

It does sound like something that I would agree to, I mean I’m the reason that he’s sentient. It would be cruel of me to throw him to the other wolves, he isn’t from here but besides even that, he isn’t from here. He doesn’t know how this world works, it would be worse than sending a dog to a shelter. It would be his death sentence for certain, and after all that I put him through for a simple pause in playing. The way he’s petting my hair like this though, it’s enough to simply just wash the rest of my worries away, if I could I would spend the rest of my life right here easily.  

“About your illness though, do you have any red potion anywhere?” 

“No, no things like that don’t exist here link and the painkillers I have aren’t worth moving for.” 

“If you’re sure… I’ll go and get them for you the second you change your mind.”    

“You don’t even know where I keep them.” 

His hand paused at that, causing me to let out an involuntary whine. I couldn’t even think to stop it with how it slipped out instantly, which he seemed fond of. Cuddling me closer to his chest and resting his head on top of mine, with what felt like a giant smile on his face. 

“I can look for them, It’s not like I won’t need to learn where everything is now that I’m living with ya… besides I’ve already put you through so much stress when you’re not well.”

“You didn’t mean to link, how could you have known I was sick?”

“...I don’t know - I just - it shouldn’t have been hard to know with how you looked when you opened the game. I’m sorry love I just wasn’t even thinking I just wanted to be out, but I should’ve been more considerate to you.”

With how silent he is in the game you could never have guessed how much he likes to ramble, it’s the second or third time it’s happened since he crawled out of the glas- the glass. Are his bandages holding up, he seems fine but he’s not from here, any infection could be deadly. He wouldn’t even see it coming with how much he’s fawning over my comfort right now. 

“Link?” “Yes, darlin’?”

Oh wow, he - well he’s whipped already. Is it real love or has all that time trapped alone twisted him into this. I’d look into getting him therapy but… if he mentioned the truth then it would be a matter of seconds until he’d be diagnosed with something inaccurate. No one. No one at all would ever believe that a video game character actually broke out of their game - especially not someone like Link falling for an exhausted student like me.

“Are you feeling alright? You have so many cuts and wounds right now.”

“It’s nothing that’s worse than anything else I’ve ever had. They do feel more real though.”

“...real?”

“They feel like real wounds, not something that could be healed away in seconds and they’re just tiny scrapes.”He sounds so giddy as he’s talking about being hurt - it’s unnerving when he starts holding me even tighter when he’s saying it. I don’t think I’m ever going to be getting away from him ever again… if I wanted to. Why shouldn’t I take a chance at having a relationship though. He cares about me - he really does even if it’s unhinged - it would be so nice to come home to him, to be able to spoil him and be spoilt by him. Even being held like this feels so unreal, so impossible that I shouldn’t be here with him. So much so that I want to stay here and fall back asleep without any argument. Didn’t he even say he wanted to be my lover? Why look over a gift too closely?

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ ฿Ⱡ₳₦₭ ₴₱₳₵Ɇ | ₮₩Ø | ♡

♡ Pairings: fratboy!jaehyun x chubby!fem!reader, fratboy!johnny x chubby!fem!reader (appearances by other members)

♡ Genre: college au/angst

♡ Summary: It's been weeks since your last arguement with Jaehyun and you've refused to speak to him since. He doesn't know who or what has your attention but the fact that it isn't him is eating him alive. It makes no difference to you, who's confident in your choice to be with Johnny but when you show up to the frat house unexpected, accidentally revealing your little love affair, you bring out a side of Jaehyun you've never seen before. One that might make leaving him in the past a bit harder than you anticipated.

[Part One Here 🖤]

♡ Word Count: 2.5k-ish

♡ Warnings: none really except that this part is Jaehyun focused so Johnny's only around for a second (the next one will be more Johnny focused). It's heavy on the angst. Most of the fratboys are dickheads to women really. There's also mentions of drinking/casual sex and strong language.

♡ A/N: At last I've written part two. It took me a bit because my health has been kicking my ass but I was determined to add to this lil fic of mine so I hope you beautiful humans enjoy this chapter.

P.S My usual thank you to @anyamaris for reading this before I posted it. I'm in terrible need of a second brain lately and I appreciate you for so happily stepping up to be it 🖤

You fight. You cry. You get back together again. Fight. Cry. Get back together again. That’s the way things have always been between you and Jaehyun. He knows it isn’t healthy but, in his own twisted way, it’s the only way he can trust that you care about him. There’s no justification for it, nothing you did to him in the past that warrants such cruel and unusual punishment. 

Jaehyun’s addicted to the rush of getting back together. The desperate, passionate moment when your bodies collide after a week or so apart. Both of you too filled with need to care about what tore you apart in the first place. He can only get that with you, he only wants it with you.

But this time he took it too far, did a bit too much in his attempt to make you jealous, and now you won’t even speak to him. When he knocks on your door your roommate lies and says you aren’t there, refusing to open it more than a crack to shoot him down. Every call goes to voicemail, every text message left undelivered, and on the rare occasions that you run into each other you treat him like a ghost. 

Seated on the sectional couch at the heart of his living room, Jaehyun stares into the void of faceless partiers swarming the frat house. The beer cradled between his fingers has the top popped off but has barely been touched. The chattering of his frat brothers scattered across the couch might as well be miles away. 

A girl in a black mini skirt sneaks up behind him, arms wrapped around his shoulders, “You look sad, baby. Need me to cheer you up?” She licks her lips, planting soft, wet kisses down his neck the way she did a few nights ago when he was in need of some rebound sex that more than failed to satisfy him. 

Jaehyun pats her on the arm, shrugging her off, “Thanks but, uh, no thanks.” 

“Wait. What?” she frowns, arms folded across her chest, “You’re joking right?” 

Scooting closer to Jaehyun, his frat brother Taeyong places a sympathetic hand on hers. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I don’t think he wants to play with you anymore." At the other end of the couch their brother Yuta raises his beer, winking at the girl, “But I will. I volunteer!” 

“Fuck you, Jaehyun and your asshole friends!” the girl huffs, storming off into the crowd. 

“Wait! Are you sure?” Yuta calls out after her, “Don’t you know what they say about Japanese guys with long hair?”

“Did she say fuck her in the asshole?” Doyoung, the most innocent of the frat brothers asks, his ears turning red from one too many shots. 

“Who’s getting fucked in the asshole?” Mark asks, flopping down beside Yuta on the couch. He’s younger than the other guys, probably shouldn’t be here, but they all have a soft spot for him, especially Yuta, so he gets to stick around. 

Yuta pouts, laying his head on Mark’s shoulder, “No one, sadly.” 

“Can you guys not be pigs for two seconds? Grow up” Jaehyun snaps, chugging down his beer so fast it makes him dizzy. 

“Ooh, someone’s cranky tonight” Taeyong teases, “What’s got you so uptight? You’re usually the worst of us.” 

Doyoung pours himself another shot, taking a quick, adorable sip of it. “She blocked him. On everything. Won’t even talk to him. So sad.” Jaehyun’s tempted to throw the empty bottle at Doyoung’s head and, unlike when you threw your shoe at him, there’s no way he could miss the shot. But Mark swoops in, wedging himself between Jaehyun and Taeyong to provide some comfort. “Aww, man, your girl broke your heart? I’m sorry. Hugs?” 

As Mark embraces Jaehyun, Yuta rolls his eyes at the display. “His girl?” Yuta laughs, “Hardly. He fucked her. By that standard mini skirt was his girl too.” 

“Oh and her!” Taeyong adds, pointing to the curly haired girl in the corner.

The others pile on, making a game out of spotting girls Jaehyun’s slept with. Jaehyun snatches free of Mark’s hug, refusing to sit through anymore of this. He’s ready to storm off himself but doubles back to clarify something. “She isn’t my girl but she’s not like them, alright? So respect her or I’ll hit you so hard every meal you have until next semester will need to be through a straw.” 

Taeyong throws his hands up, leading the others in easing up on Jaehyun, “No problem, bro. We were just fucking with you. We’l respect her.” 

“Uh, excuse me, am I interrupting something?” you ask, clearing your throat. The sound of your voice makes Jaehyun’s heart skip a beat and when he turns around to find that pretty face staring back at him, his heart all but stops. 

“N…no, we were just, wh…what are you doing here?” he stutters, a glimmer of emotion showing through for the first time in a long time. “I thought you hated me.”

You knew this day would come. It’s going on 3 weeks of evading any form of interaction with him but you knew that one day your luck would run out. You’d have to experience this moment. This conversation. The feelings you had for Jaehyun haven’t subsided easily. It stung to accept that he could never feel for you the way you wished he did but it was easier to let go when you had someone soft and loving to land on. 

Johnny hasn’t been your rebound, he’s been the furthest thing from it. You adore being with him. He does all the things you ever wanted a guy to do. He’s silly in ways you don’t always get but that’s just a part of his charm. He’s thoughtful and patient, never making you question if he has eyes for any girl other than you. You don’t hate Jaehyun. You don’t even have the time to when Johnny exists. 

“Hate you? No but have you…” you begin to whisper, burning under the spotlight of his frat brothers’ gaze, “Have you talked to Johnny?” 

Jaehyun’s a statue, rendered immobile by his confusion, “Talked to Johnny about what?”

“Baby!” Johnny cheers, popping out of the crowd to sweep you up into his arms, “What are you doing here? I told you I’d come get you.” 

“I know but my roommate was headed over here so I thought I’d save you a trip.” You try to clue him in that something’s happening but he’s showering you in so many kisses that you ultimately give into it, giggling like the happiest girl in the world. 

“Johnny, people are watching” you finally manage as your feet meet the ground again, Johnny’s arms secure around your waist. 

“Baby, I don’t care about people…” Johnny stops himself short, noticing precisely which people you happen to be referring to. 

The sadness on Jaehyun’s face tells you that he and Johnny haven’t talked about this. Not once. You catch yourself feeling bad for him, knowing the pain he feels oh too well. It’s the same pain that he dished out to you without remorse or reason and the thought of that turns your empathy into satisfaction. Revenge, bittersweet but successfully acquired all the same. 

“Jae, I’m sorry, really” Johnny apologizes, approaching Jaehyun to make peace but peace isn’t of interest and apologies aren’t enough. 

Jaehyun barrels past Johnny, nearly knocking him down in the process, “Fuck it, you can keep her. Have fun.” 

“Wait! I’m really…” Johnny calls after him, torn between chasing down his friend and staying here with you. 

Patting him on the shoulder, you give him a little peck on the lips, encouraging him to go ahead. “Johnny, I’ll be fine. Just do what you need to do.”

“Are you sure?” If you ask him to stay he will, no questions asked, no second guessing. If chasing after Jaehyun means hurting you he’d never do it in a million years. 

You crack a gentle, reassuring smile, “I’m sure. Now get out of here.” You playfully push him on his way and he kisses you on the back of the hand before letting go, rushing off into the direction Jaehyun was headed in. 

Jaehyun deserves a bit of pain for all he’s done to you but in both of their absences it sets in that maybe he isn’t the only one being hurt in all of this. Imagining how hurt Johnny would be at losing a friend, you feel the sudden weight of guilt the likes of none you’ve ever had to bear. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Especially not here in front of everyone.

“Aaah, a good old fashioned love triangle. The tragedy! The heartbreak!” Mark says, head thrown back dramatically.

Taeyong throws a pillow at Mark, shushing the younger man. Mark catches it, cuddling it in his arms like a stuffed animal. “What? I like love stories. I wonder, how’s it gonna end?”

Yuta grins at you, kicking his feet up on the coffee table, “Yeah, cutie, you’re the one they're gonna kill each other over. You tell us, how’s it gonna end?” 

Wiping your increasingly sweaty palms on your dress, you feel the spotlight on you growing brighter and you can’t stomach it. You take off out into the night, navigating the minefield of passed out partiers to get across the front lawn. Yuta’s words echo in your mind, “You tell us, how’s it gonna end?” 

Like you have all the power. Like you’re the only one responsible for any of this. How’s it gonna end? You have no clue but you wish that the ending, however bad or good, would come already. 

You should be at a movie theater right now cuddled up beside Johnny eating overpriced snacks. Instead you’re standing in the frozen section of a fluorescent lit gas station contemplating which freezer burnt pint of ice cream you’ll drown your sorrows in tonight.

Somewhere in your purse your phone is on silent, no doubt blowing up with texts and calls from both of the men you find yourself tangled up with. The adult thing to do would be to go back to the party and face this problem straight on. Or you could demolish the snacks piled into your arms and pretend this never happened. 

“The second one, for sure” you decide, fumbling with the freezer door handle to retrieve your ice cream of choice. 

“Is there another party going on that I don’t know about?” Jaehyun asks, watching you from the end of the aisle. You groan, abandoning your ice cream mission to get as far away from him as possible. He steps in front of you, blocking your path, “I’m not stalking you. I promise. I just needed some air and I…anyway, let me help you.”

Jaehyun skips over to ice cream, popping the freezer door open. He pokes out his lip, eyebrows furrowed in as he scans the options. “There we go” he grins, plucking your favorite ice cream from the shelf on the first try. You’ve never explicitly told him which one it was and you try not to be impressed by the fact that he cared to take note of it but deep down inside you are.

“Come on, I’ll pay for it” he insists, leading the way to the register. It takes him a few steps to realize that you haven’t followed and he spins around on his heels to find you staring at him in disgust. 

“What I meant to say was, may I pay for your things, my queen?” A group of passing girls giggle as he bows to you with all the elegance of a man who’s in the presence of royalty. 

“Cut it out. You’re embarrassing me” you whine and he responds with a twirl that brings him closer to you, the already defrosting ice cream jumping from hand to hand. 

“Aah but I just want the queen to be happy and I do hear this is her favorite.”

“Oh, I’m a queen now? And what does that make you? My royal jester?” 

Jaehyun stares into your eyes, his expression turning serious, “If that’s what you want me to be.”

“It’s a little too late to be what I wanted you to be, isn’t it?” you ask, your voice shaking more than you’d like it to. 

“I don’t know, is it?”

He asks you the question like his whole life depends on your answer. He’s always been the one who had the upper hand, standing over you, his whimpering prey, with a knife to your throat that could end you at any time. It’s strange to be on the other end of it now but, unlike him, you’re prone to taking mercy on poor, wounded little animals. While you may not have it in you to strike the killing blow, you’re content to let him lie here and bleed out. 

“You know what? Suddenly I've lost my appetite” you say, emptying your snacks into his arms, “I’m sure there’s enough girls in your phone to share that with.”

This isn’t some melodramatic exit where you walk away expecting him to follow you. Running into him in the first place wasn’t the plan. Yet you’re barely out of the gas station parking lot when the tiny hairs on the back of your neck begin to stand on end and you just know he’s trailing behind you.

“Will you at least let me take you home? You shouldn’t be walking alone. There could be psychopaths out here!”

You pick up speed repeating to yourself, “Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around. Don’t—”

“I love you!” Jaehyun shouts for the entire block to hear. It’s his voice but those can’t be his words. Fueled by rage, you ignore your own advice and turn to confront him. 

“Take it back!” you demand, refusing to accept his profession. Of all the things he’s ever done to manipulate you this has to be the lowest he’s gone. 

“No, if I mean it then why should I?” 

“Because you’re lying! You’re a liar! It’s what you do. It’s what you always do!” you scream, the anger you’ve held in for months overflowing. 

“Okay, I am a liar. A liar and a piece of shit who couldn’t commit to you cause I was too afraid of getting hurt so I hurt you first” he admits, “And that’s not for you to fix. Maybe I need fucking therapy, I don’t know, but I do love you.”

“That’s not enough!”

Jaehyun sees you motion to leave again and grabs your wrists, locking them at your sides. “Then tell me what’s enough and I’ll do it. It can’t be too late for us. I’m falling apart without you.”

Tears run hot down your cheeks and he cups your face, kissing them away. It feels nicer than you want it to, more calming than repulsive. You were out, done with him forever, and look at you now, standing under the streetlights melting into the palms of his hands.

But this time is different from the others and far more dangerous because for once the liar isn’t lying. He loves you and it means it. Why the fuck does he have to mean it?