#because they were jamming out to this song

[batdude-s]

Rediscovered this. Presenting it without comment.

[cctinsleybaxter]

i think about that post that's like 'men are addicted to writing sad songs about a time they were clearly the bad guy' every time i listen to music

[soft-serve-soymilk]

I LOVE TALES OF !!!!1!!1!11 🎉🥳🎊☀️🌻

[a-passing-storm]

I feel so powerful I just played through the Foundations of Decay on the bass along with the original song in the background!

[florencemtrash]

Bedsides and Breakfasts

Summary: After Azriel comes home battered and bruised, he refuses to eat the meal you've made him... Why?

Warnings: Angst, character injury, fluff

Author's note: For context, Y/n is Helion's bastard daughter. In an earlier draft of my other (very long) fic, The Shadowsinger and The Inkbird, this was going to be a scene that takes place after Azriel gets hurt during the Battle on the Lake where Y/n figures out Azriel is her mate. I wanted to finish it up and get it out there because I don't want to say goodbye to that story just yet and I wanted to get back into writing so.... here ya go!

The Townhouse sang quietly as it worked. Its melodies lay in the shifting curtains that shook off dust into the wind. Its lyrics in the whistling teakettle. You liked these sounds as you moved about the kitchen, preparing your tea and a crust of bread slathered with butter and jam. 

When the Townhouse was empty, you didn’t need to fear your power — there was no one around for you to touch and steal memories from. Mor had tried to drag you out to Rita’s that evening — “Rhys says you’ve learned to keep your Clairvoyance at bay! Come dancing with us!” — but you couldn’t muster the courage or the energy.

Besides, you were awaiting a certain Shadowsinger’s arrival. 

“Won’t you come back and make me your home? You who’ve stolen my heart as simple as a whisper, calm as a storm,” You hummed to yourself. You swore the Townhouse sighed in contentment. “Do you like my silly little songs then?” You mused. 

The lights shone a little brighter, crackling the air with a flicker of energy. 

You were singing about Azriel — of course you were — and blushing all the while. He’d been the first to truly speak to you — the first to notice you — and the embrace you’d shared in Rhysand’s office had left you breathless for days. You could still feel the ghost of his breath against your neck as you’d buried your face in the hollow of his throat. The cracked leather beneath your fingers and the short hairs at the base of his skull you’d caressed as lovingly as any flower. It was the first time you’d ever been touched like that. Like you were something worth holding onto. 

When he was gone, the Townhouse felt too empty. You felt too empty. Even now, the edges of your patience frayed like a worn shirt without him. 

You spent the evening’s hours combing through every book you’d managed to lug over from the Library. It was quick, but taxing work as every touch against the weathered binding allowed you to absorb its knowledge without you ever having to lay an eye on the page. 

When the candle flickered dangerously close to your books and the dull throbbing behind your eyes had gone on for too long, you blew out the light and could do no more than curl up on the sofa before falling fast asleep. 

The whispers of shadows woke you. You couldn’t understand the words hidden within their overlapping voices, but their panic and relief were heavy in the air. You could almost taste their meaning on your tongue.

“Y/n,” Azriel moaned. He leaned heavily against the open door, forcing it open against the drag of the carpet. His sword clattered to the ground before his knees. “Y/n,” he called out again, more urgently this time. He prayed to the gods you were home. He’d flown through the night, tattered wings struggling to keep him aloft, to make sure he’d see you again… just in case.

Blood and iron burned your nose and your sleep-swollen eyelids split open. “Az—” Your knee slammed against the coffee table in your struggle to escape the blankets. “AZ!” 

Azriel was always greedy for the sight of you, and that familiar tug in his chest tightened as you rounded the corner and sprinted towards him. You tripped where the hardwood ended and the carpet began, throwing his arm around your shoulder. 

He smiled softly at you. Three months ago, you’d been too afraid to touch anyone. Now here you were half-supporting his weight as he staggered to his feet. He stole a few precious seconds to lean his head into the crook of your neck and breathe in your scent. For a moment, he believed it would be enough to heal him.

“How bad is it?” 

“Three arrows in the right wing, two in the left. Fae bane.” 

“Anywhere else?” You both stumbled down the hallway back from where you’d come. 

“I may have been stabbed a few times.” He offered the piece of information casually, like he was complaining about the price of eggs.

“What’s a few?” Your eyes were wide as the moon. Searching, searching, searching for wounds.

“Ten?” 

Your growl tore through the quiet of the night. 

Your hands were slippery with blood, and Azriel almost slid out of your fingertips as you deposited him against the table. You flung your arms out over the hardwood tabletop sending bottles of ink, pens, and sheafs of papers clattering to the floor before rolling Azriel onto the top and forcing him to lay down.

Under the chandelier, Azriel looked ghastly. The warmth was drained from his skin and the hollows of his eyes and the fullness of his lips were tinged purple from cold. His eyes drifted apart from one another.

“I need you to stay awake.” 

“I will.” His words were slippery as soap on porcelain, syllables sliding into one another as he promised you he would be alright and that he had suffered worse before.  

“Stay awake!” You commanded him and his eyes sharpened ever so slightly on your figure as you tore through the cabinets in the corner. 

Where is it? Where is it? Glass bottles clinked and tottered on rounded bottoms. There! 

You snatched one of the pale green bottles lining the back wall and bit off the cork top with a grimace, spitting it out onto the floor. You could taste the medicine inside coat your teeth with an acrid film. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” You slapped Azriel’s cheeks to keep him awake. “Drink this.” 

Azriel’s lips parted immediately and he accepted every bitter drop you forced down his throat. It wasn’t a cure, but it would help stabilize him long enough for help to arrive. In the time it took for you to call out to Rhys and light the candle that would wake Madja and call her to the Townhouse, Azriel’s cheeks had flushed with some more color. 

The sight did little to ease your worries as you worked on unbuckling the straps of his armor. Piece by piece they fell away with a wet thud on the ground. 

He grabbed your wrist before you could run in search of something to cut off the clothes clinging to him like a second skin. Elain had left gardening shears on the back porch. Perhaps the kitchen had scissors?

“Stay.” He begged. “Please stay.”

“Rhys and Madja will be here soon. I just need to get something to help you.” 

“Then stay.” His grip turned desperate, short nails digging into your forearm. “Stay and help me. Don’t leave me.” 

Azriel might have smiled if he wasn’t in so much pain. His hand slid up the curve of your arm to hold your neck, thumb tracing the line of your jaw. 

“I wanted to see you just in case.” His chest rattled with the effort, “Gods, I missed you.” 

He’d been gone weeks on the Continent, scrounging after every whisper of Koschei’s name as far as the eastern mountains. He’d scavenged and raged. Killed and tortured. And he’d missed you all the while. It was what had possessed him to fly all the way to Velaris, when he would have been better off breaking into the Day Court and throwing himself at the mercy of Helion — your father. 

You felt the tears prick at your eyes, angry and hot. “If you say another fucking word like you’re about to die, I will kill you myself.” You were not prone to violence, and Azriel felt some pride that he could elicit such an emotion from you. 

Luckily for you both, Azriel didn’t get a chance to say anything else, and you didn’t get a chance to murder him before Rhysand, Feyre, Cassian, and Madja were bursting through the front door and following the blood-red trail to the dining room. 

Azriel squeezed your hand once more. “Stay with me.”

“Where else would I go, Az?” You whispered, pressing a quick kiss to the palm of his hand before the others crowded close. 

You stayed at the head of the table, one hand always holding onto Azriel’s. He swallowed his pain, the faintest groans slipping from his lips as arrows were pulled out inch by bloody inch. It was no easy thing to endure, not even for Azriel. Wicked barbs lined the arrow shaft and caught onto the delicate membrane of his wings no matter how Madja twisted, pushed, and pulled. 

One particularly harsh wrench had Azriel crying out, his nails digging into your arm and drawing blood. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, feeling your skin break beneath his nails. His skin was tinged green now. A sickly sheen covered his face and fell over his eyes. 

“It’s ok. It’s ok. Just look at me.” You grasped the sides of his face. “Look at me.” 

Once again, Azriel was ready to listen to your commands. His eyes never left yours, not once, until the last of the faebane-tipped arrows dropped onto the table with a menacing ring of metal on wood.

Feyre closed his wounds as best she could, but the flesh inside would take longer to heal. For now all they could do was carefully wipe the blood from his body and carry him up to his bedroom. 

You lingered by Azriel’s side long after he fell asleep, fingers twitching with nerves as you counted every slow and steady breath of his. 

“Y/n.” Feyre gently touched your arm. “He’ll be alright.”

You nodded, still watching Azriel sleep. Then, to your mortification, you burst into tears. Your clothes were drying stiff with sweat and blood — none of it yours — and the red handprints Azriel had left along your arms were turning to copper rust. 

She shushed you, softly tugging at your arms. 

“He-He asked me to stay,” you said between gulps of air. 

“He’d want you to be clean and well-rested, Y/n. Don’t let him wake up feeling guilty.” 

If it weren’t for Feyre, you would have remained glued to the floor of Azriel’s room until you became one of the faces trapped in the wooden floors. You let her lead you across the hall to your own room where she filled the tub with warm water and soap. 

“Shit,” you mumbled. Your fingers shook so much you couldn’t undo the buttons of your dress. Shadows, loose and long as stalks of grass, wound around your back, plucking the buttons undone without a word. 

“He’ll be alright.” Feyre repeated this phrase many times as you scrubbed off the night’s events and turned the water copper brown. The magic of the Townhouse whisked away the grime almost as quickly as it appeared until you sat in a sudsy bath, milky and clean.

“What happened to him, Fey?”

“From what Rhys and I can tell, Koschei had over a dozen archers lying in wait for when he returned to Prythian. We’ve already warned Helion.” 

You nodded. Your head felt heavy on your neck, like a doll with a snapped neck. 

“He nearly died.” Once the words were out in the open, fragile and pure, you broke down again, knees drawn up to your chest in the tub. 

“But he didn’t.” Feyre smoothed back your dripping hair. “It will take more than arrows and faebane for Death to steal him from us, Y/n.” 

Gods you hoped that was true, or else your heart might give out every time Azriel walked out the door. 

You returned to his side the moment you were clothed, hair still dripping onto his gray bed sheets as you leaned forward from your chair and held his hand. He slept on his stomach, wings flared out and peppered with white gauze like a patchwork quilt. Beneath the drape of his blankets you knew more gauze covered his chest and stomach, dotted with blood like blooming roses. 

You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but you awoke to a deep ache in your back and a faint choir of voices in the air. 

Shadows. 

They kissed your cheeks, cool and soft, urging your eyelids open. Azriel was already awake and sitting up in bed with a grimace. One hand clutched his side and a leg hung over the edge of the bed, like he intended to stand. When he saw you, his hazel eyes widened. First in alarm. Then in guilt. 

“Az?” Your voice felt crusted with smoke and sleep and you did what you could to straighten the crook in your neck and your spine from the odd position you’d fallen asleep in. ““You’re not supposed to be sitting up.” Your bones cracked obnoxiously as you moved for the first time in hours, and the guilt in his gaze deepened. 

You pressed lightly against his chest, feeling the gauze scratch your skin, but he did not budge. 

“Az, you need to lay down. What were you even doing up?” 

Azriel’s eyes flickered off to the side. “I was… I was trying to move you to the bed.” 

You swallowed your yawn and blinked in disbelief. “Azriel, you’ve just been shot and stabbed. You need to lay back down.” 

He grabbed your wrists, tugging you forward until you almost collapsed against his chest. “There’s space on the bed. I want you to be comfortable.” 

“The chair is fine, and you are hurt. Now, please—” He did not move. No matter how you reasoned with him. No matter how you tried to shove him back beneath the covers.

“I will lay back down under one condition.” 

You frowned. He was much more stubborn when he was injured. “What condition?” 

“Sleep on the bed. There’s plenty of room.” 

“Az—” 

“Please.” His hands slipped into yours, fingers pressing against the pulse of your wrists. “Y/n, I will be comforted with you beside me.” He held up his finger before you could sleep. “And not in that gods-awful chair. You’ll wake up crooked.”

“I’m not a stalk in a storm,” you grumbled, because it only seemed appropriate that you should fight him on this. Otherwise, you’d have to admit that the thought of melting into his bed set off fireworks in your stomach, exciting and terrifying at the same time. You’d also have to admit the scent of mountain air embedded in every inch of his room brought you comfort. You could lay your head on his pillows and sleep for an eternity. 

I shouldn’t be here. But you let him tug you closer to him. You slid your legs over his waist, calves catching on the waistband of his pants and dragging in a way that had your heart leaping into your stomach until you were safely on the other side of him. 

Azriel’s bed was massive — over 12 feet across to better accommodate the span of his wings. You moved as far away from him as you could without eliciting offense and stared at the window. 

Your muscles clenched as he shifted closer to you, wings rustling against the silk sheets and whispering as he got comfortable. Every time he so much as shifted, your back prickled, as though you had eyes there that shifted to soak up every inch of him. 

He’s hurt and I’m taking up space and—

He reached out his arm and his fingertips brushed against the curve of your back. You stiffened like you’d been struck by lightning. If Azriel were awake, he would have apologized and wrenched back his hand as if burned. But he was fast asleep and the touch was a natural movement he made in his dreams where he was imagining that you were closer to him. So close that he could breathe down your neck and feel you melt beneath his touch. 

You didn’t sleep, as much as the lull of his breathing threatened to sink you into sweet and comforting dreams. The sky was but a lighter shade of black when you were slipping out of bed with barely a whisper. Miraculously, Azriel did not awaken, and his shadows ghosted over the floors drowsily.

You were no stranger to dawn as you padded down to the kitchens. You hummed to yourself, cracking eggs over a well-greased skillet with onions, tomatoes, and peppers tossed in. They bobbed up and down in a sea of yellow like ducks on water. Potatoes browned to your right, their skins crackling and spitting grease as bacon popped and sizzled beside them. 

You ate as you went, plating the final meal for Azriel, who—if you knew anything about him—would be waking shortly after the first rays of sunlight split his shadows in two. 

You slipped back into his room as quietly as you’d left, and then nearly leapt out of your skin to find a dark mass of shadow covering the bed. 

“You’re awake,” you said blankly. 

Azriel propped himself up onto his elbows, back rippling as he forced his stiff and swollen wounds to stretch until he could sit up in bed. 

“Where did you go?” There was but a faint slur to his words. “You weren’t here when I woke up.” 

“I was making breakfast.” You dragged over the ottoman from the foot of his bed as a makeshift table. “Did you brush your teeth already?” Not that it mattered. A sour mouth wouldn’t keep him from a meal if he was hungry. 

The flash of fear in his eyes was so subtle, so brief, that you missed it. 

“I’m not hungry.” 

“Well that doesn’t really matter. Madja said you should eat first thing. Oh!” You plucked a purple glass bottle from his bedside table. “And she said to drink this with a meal.” You pushed it into his hands, reluctant as they were to take the stoppered bottle from you. 

“I can’t imagine eating right now.” He said, shaking his head. His cheeks puffed out and he swallowed hard. “The smell… it’s… I can’t stomach it.” 

You frowned at that. He liked your cooking. It was only due to circumstance that you hadn’t been able to cook for him in months. 

“Can you please try?” you begged. “Just a bite.”

His skin turned pallid and the dark marks beneath his eyes stood out. He picked up a fork with a trembling hand, stuck it into a potato, then dropped it as if it burned. Suddenly, he regretted asking you to stay the night. Guilt ate away at his stomach, twisting it like spaghetti on a fork. 

You sighed in dejection. “I’ll bring it back downstairs.” You said. You began collecting the silverware from where you’d left them by his side. 

“I’m sorry.” He murmured, catching your wrist in his hand. 

You smiled softly. “Try and get some rest.” 

“Will you be back?” His words caught you by the door. 

“You won’t even realize I was gone.” 

He doubted that very much. Still, he settled back in bed, rolling onto his stomach to keep its rumbling at bay. He was quite hungry. 

You closed the door behind you, carrying the untouched plate of eggs and potatoes. Cassian stopped his whistling as he made his way down the hall, a teasing smile playing at his lips until he caught sight of your dejected expression. 

“What’s got our resident Librarian frowning? Did someone misplace a book in the House?” 

You didn’t rise to Cassian’s jests. You cast a sullen glance back at Azriel’s door like it was personally responsible for everything, and shrugged. “He hasn’t eaten since he’s been back and I’m starting to get worried. I read up on Illyrian anatomy weeks ago and he should be fine enough to eat by now.” 

Cassian leaned down, taking a careful sniff of the plate before grabbing hold of a butter and rosemary roasted potato and plucking it in his mouth. It was cold and the butter had hardened into a greasy slick, but it was still good. He told you as much as he walked with you back to the kitchens, stealing slivers of potato as he went.

“It’s nice to know my cooking’s not at fault.” 

Cassian jerked back in surprise and sudden understanding. “You made him that?”

“Yes. I know the House has its own will, but I like to cook. And it still feels strange having food just appear out of nowhere.”  

Cassian fought with all his might to keep the cheeky grin from his face. 

Poor Azriel, forced to go hungry because he was still too much of a sheepish fool to tell you about the mating bond let alone accept it. 

He clicked his tongue. He loved his brother to the grave and back, but Azriel had a horrible habit of getting trapped in his own mind. Cassian had hoped you would help with that, given you suffered similarly. 

“I wouldn’t take it too personally. Azriel’s a picky eater. Always has been.”

That was a complete and utter lie. Growing up in the Illyrian war camps meant you either starved or ate whatever gray-brown mush you could get your hands on. Rhysand and Azriel had been quicker to move on from the rugged Illyrian lifestyle, and Rhysand especially had used his High Lord privileges to cultivate a refined and expensive taste, but if they were hungry and limited they didn’t give two shits what went in their mouths. 

“I didn’t realize you could afford to be picky in a war camp,” You grumbled. You dropped the plate’s contents onto a skillet, patiently waiting for the House to light a toasty fire. There was no need to let good food go to waste.   

You thought over it, some minor irritation settling in that the Shadowinger had rejected the food you’d worked to make. It really didn’t make sense that Azriel would be so particular about food. Or anything for that matter. He’d always struck you as the practical, bare-bones sort, and you knew him well enough now to know that was true. His very job required it of him. But then again you couldn’t remember the last time he’d accepted any food that you’d offer-

You froze. Oh. Oh.

The first night he’d visited your apartment in the Day Court, he’d refused your tea and cakes before leaving abruptly. You’d agonized over that night for months, trying to figure out what you might have done to scare him off. But he’d been so kind and shy afterwards and then the whole matter of Koschei had arose and you’d never given it much thought because he just seemed so familiar and... Oh. OH-

“BASTARD!” You spat out in shock. The skillet dropped to the stove with a sharp cry that had Cassian blinking. He’d never seen you like this. So…agitated.

Had you always been this dull? A year ago you might have been able to blame it on your naïveté, but you weren’t so socially misinformed now and yet this was a bit much. And… oh you couldn’t wrap your head around your own stupidity to even begin to think about a mating bond with…

A mating bond with Azriel. You… you were his mate. He was yours. And you were his. And suddenly the pieces of it were falling into place so quickly you thought you might be crushed beneath the weight. 

Mate.

Even the thought of the word crashed around your mind incessantly, like an anxious dog trying to settle down to sleep. Yet it all made such perfect sense. The way Azriel always found you when you were in danger or grieving. The awful days when Azriel had been away and you’d felt like a piece of your body had been severed. The way that the world felt right when he was beside you. Maybe it was the bond, maybe it was just something born out of love, or maybe they were one and the same. It was impossible to tell but it didn’t change anything.

Mate.

Cassian glanced sideways at you and said cautiously, “We’re both bastards, Y/n. I don’t think that’s much of an insult coming from your mouth.”

Your eyes snapped to his, suddenly remembering that he was in the kitchen with you. You brandished a fork in your hand like a weapon, pointing the pronged end up at him like he was a piece of meat to be skewered. You were shorter than him, but the sharpness in your eyes made him pause.

“You.” Such a simple word, yet it sounded so threatening. “You knew didn’t you?”

Was he sweating? The room felt warm.

“I don’t know what-“ You snatched his wrist and with your magic, you stole the information from him that you needed. It was as easy as plucking a flower from a field. 

Fuck. Cassian groaned at the same time you did. You knew now. Not that you really needed confirmation from Cassian. Still. It was rather embarrassing to learn you were the last of… well everyone to know, even if it was your fault for not noticing the signs. In your defense you had been preoccupied with other matters…

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” You muttered, heating up the remaining food with a great deal of force before setting down a fresh tray, plate, utensils, and mug of tea on the countertop.

You keep muttering to yourself, your joy disguised by your embarrassment and no small amount of shock. Cassian watched nervously as you prepped the plate. 

You’d no sooner growled, “Move,” before Cassian leapt to the side and you set off out the door and down the hallway back to Azriel’s room.

She knows. One shadow whispered in his ear. Azriel felt his heart skyrocket and his stomach plunge to the cradle of his hip bones. 

She seems… upset.

Upset was a mild word. You were alight with every emotion possible — fury, fear, anxiety, excitement, love — and Azriel struggled to tease them apart. It was like he’d been hit in the chest by a tangle of snakes, each a writhing, living, ever-changing thing. One moment you seemed nervous, the next angry. 

“You.” Your knuckles were pale as they gripped the tray. Sunlight molded to your form like a crown, and it became all the more apparent that you were Helion’s daughter — his bastard daughter, but daughter nevertheless. 

He scrambled into a seated position just in time for you to drop the tray in his lap with a clatter that sent fork and knife skittering over the dish.

You looked down at the tray, then up at his eyes, wide and molten as amber. “You didn’t tell me.” You didn’t need to elaborate any further. 

“I didn’t think—”

“You’re right. You didn’t.” You blinked, suddenly shy. “Did I not make it clear enough that I liked you? That I loved—love you? Or perhaps you don’t… perhaps you don’t want me.” That was a possibility you hadn’t thought of in your excitement to see him again. 

Oh gods, you hadn’t thought of that possibility had you? You’d just aggressively thrown food at him, expecting that he would—

Azriel gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him again. Your cheeks were warm and painted with color. 

“I always worried I was reading into actions that meant nothing to you. But, never think for a moment that I don’t want you.” He smiled then, a shy, secret smile reserved for you. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you.” 

Now your cheeks were burning, but Azriel did not mind feeling this kind of heat on his hands. He let go of your chin, twirling a fork with his fingers like it was a knife. It was one of his few nervous ticks whose knowledge was reserved for the people he trusted. For the people he loved. 

“Being with me will put you in more danger than you know.” 

“But I expect it will bring me more happiness than I could have ever imagined.” You raised a hand up to his face, twisting away a stubborn curl of hair that fell over his forehead. “And you forget who my father is,” you reminded him. “Maybe it is I who will put you in danger.” 

“Maybe,” Azriel whispered. His breath fanned over your cheeks, soft and sweet. 

You picked up the fork, lifting it up in between you. 

“Eat.” You commanded him. 

Azriel smiled, plucking it from your fingers and stabbing a potato. He sighed. “I never could deny you anything, and I would never want to,” he said, before chewing carefully. Cautiously. 

You blinked in surprise, instinctively taking a step away when you felt something new and warm begin to burn in your chest, like someone had taken a drop of the molten hazel in Azriel’s eyes and dropped it into your heart. 

“Oh.” You breathed. 

“Yes,” Azriel murmured, “An unusual feeling, I know.” He placed the tray beside him and he’d no sooner opened his arms before you’d buried your face in the crook of his neck. You wanted more of that warmth in your chest. You wanted to slip into Azriel's skin as close as possible to his beating heart. To feel the mating bond wrap around you both like a curtain to block out the rest of the world. 

Azriel groaned in pain, but would not let you leave his embrace. No pain had ever been worth so much. 

You forced him to finish eating, even though all he wanted was the taste of you on his lips. “Later,” you promised him. When he was healed and whole there would be more breathless kisses and urgent touches, but for now he had to content himself with eating his meal and drinking his draught. But he would not be denied the press of your skin against his as you slipped beneath the covers and curled up beside him. This time, you fell asleep quickly and your dreams came over you like water. 

[inkskinned]

hello. you left a neon pink post-it with pgs 194-359 due 9/12 in the book, by the way. it is now May 23rd and the library's printer is running out of ink. it jammed and tore my passport application. one of the librarians dutifully blacked out all my information (front and back!) before proceeding to use every unmarred inch as scrap paper.

i think maybe our (plural, inclusive) lives are connected. all of them. i have been thinking a lot about borrowing. about how people move through the world in waves, filling in the same spaces. i have probably stood on the same subway platform as you. we held the same book. all of us stand in the same line at the grocery, at the gas station. how many feet have stood washing dishes in my kitchen?

i hope you are doing well. the pen you used was a nice red, maybe a glitter pen? you have loopy, curling handwriting. i sometimes wonder if it is true that you can tell a personality by the shape of our letters. i'm borrowing my brother's car. he's got scrangly engineer handwriting (you know the one). it's a yellow-orange ford mustang boss. when i got out of the building, some kids were posing with it for a selfie. i felt a little bird grow in me and had to pause and pretend to be busy with my phone to give them more time for their laughing.

i have a habit of asking people what's the last good book you read? the librarian's handwriting on the back of my smeared-and-chewed passport application says the glass house in small undercase. i usually go for fantasy/sci fi, but she was glowing when she suggested it. i found your post-it on page 26, so i really hope you didn't have to read up to 359 in that particular book. i hope you're like me and just have a weird "random piece of trash" "bookmark" that somehow makes it through like, 58 books.

i wish the concept of soul mates was bigger. i wish it was about how my soul and your soul are reading the same work. how i actually put down that book at the same time you did - page 26 was like, all exposition. i wish we were soul mates with every person on the same train. how magical to exist and borrow the same space together. i like the idea that somewhere, someone is using the shirts i donated. i like the idea that every time i see a nice view and say oh gosh look at the view, you (plural, inclusive) said that too.

the kids hollered when i beeped the car. oh dude you set off the alarm, oh shit is she - dude that's her car!! one was extremely polite. "i like your car, Miss. i'm sorry we touched it." i said i wasn't busy, finish up the pictures. i folded your post-it into a paper crane while i waited. i thought about how my brother's a kind person but his handwriting looks angry. i thought about how for an entire year i drove someone to work every day - and i didn't even think to ask for gas money. my handwriting is straight capital letters.

i thought about how i can make a paper crane because i was taught by someone who was taught by someone else.

the kids asked me to rev the engine and you know i did. the way they reacted? you would have thought i brought the sun from the sky and poured it into a waterglass. i went home smiling about it. i later gave your post it-turned-bird to a tiny child on the bus. she put it in her mouth immediately.

how easy, standing in your shadow, casting my own. how our hands pass over each other in the same minor folds. i wonder how many of the same books you and i have read. i wonder how many people have the same favorite six songs or have been in the same restaurant or have attended the same movie premier. the other day i mentioned the Book Mill from a small town in western massachusetts - a lot of people knew of it. i wonder if i've ever passed you - and didn't even notice it.

i hope whatever i leave behind makes you happy. i hope my hands only leave gentle prints. i hope you and i get the same feeling when the sun comes out. soulmates across all of it.

[cheetabites]

☆彡 cinnamon pt 2 ˳༄꠶

character: kang dae-ho (player 388)

˳༄꠶ summary: five sfw and nsfw general headcannons for dae-ho

sfw headcannons

★ he’s a man that knows how to dress himself well. in korea, the importance on appearance is a reinforced by society so lots of people dress good, but i’m telling you that he knows how to keep up appearances - even if his clothes remain casual, all his outfits look good on him; he mainly wears black high waisted dress pants w/ wide pant legs paired with a loose fitting shirt & a cardigan or an oversized hoodie w/ cargo pants

★ he has a sad playlist that he jams out to regularly; even if nothing bad happened. he could be doing the most mundane task - like walking down the streets of korea - and one of the most heartbreaking songs would be blasting out of his earphones

★ he hates needles, and i mean he hates them. sure, he got a tattoo, but if he has to do anything like getting his blood drawn he’ll bolt it out of there - unless you’re there and you hold his hand

★ he’s one of those people that keeps all their app tabs open on their phone. and probably barely has any storage space because of the amount of pictures he has of you and other things; he doesn’t want to delete them because he thinks he’ll forget the moment

★ he’s big on physical touch. there isn’t a moment where he can go on without holding your hand or wrapping his arms around your shoulders from behind. it’s also normal for him to place tiny kisses on your face whenever the opportunity arises

nsfw headcannons

★ loves to tell you how beautiful you are when you please each other. your hair could be messy and sticking to your face, or you’re sweating profusely, but it doesn’t matter. he never wants to think your any less than beautiful

★ he really likes when you ride him; especially when he’s just laying flat - no hands on you or anything - on the bed and you lay your palms flat on his shoulders for support

★ the idea of you just using him for pleasure really gets him off - like if you were stressed and needed to blow of steam so you decide to pin him down and be a little bit mean and condescending while you please him; he usually cries when you guys fuck like that, but it’s always out of pleasure

★ he wouldn’t want to have sex anywhere besides the bedroom. i feel like both of you tried it once in a more public place - like maybe one of your guys’ cars or in a hotel room - but it turned him off so bad that you both agreed to not try that again

★ he’s all for waking you up by eating you out (consensual somnophilia); hearing you gasp as you awake and having you card your fingers through his hair to tug on it, it’s one of the best sights he’d ever witnessed. he usually does this on the days he has to work cause he loves riling you up, but he always makes sure to clean you up before he leaves

the end! i hope you enjoyed <3!

© cheetabites. don’t translate, claim or repost my works on any platform. jan 3 2025.

[secretsofafangirll]

video star

summary: the time when Olivia appeared in a blind, deaf, mute baking video with the triplets and Matt couldn't keep his hands to himself.

warnings: touchiness in front of people/on camera, suggestive language, suggestive content, use of pet names.

a/n: the song doesn't have any significance, it just plays in o.c.'s headphones.

"Hey guys, welcome back to another Wednesday video," Nick blurted at the camera posed several feet in front of them, "Today we're doing another Deaf, Blind, Mute Baking Challenge."

"However," Chris butted in, sticking a mocking finger in the air, "We have a special guest for today's video," He drawled out and looked off to the side where I was standing. Matt was still leaning back against the counter and smiled at me.

"Come on out, sweetheart." Matt beckoned me over with a flick of his fingers and a nod of his head. I jumped into frame and smiled at the camera.

"Hi guys!" I waved enthusiastically and placed my hands on the counter in front of me.

"For those of you who don't know, Olivia is our best friend in the whole world and Matt's girlfriend. If you didn't know that, you've obviously never watched a video because she's in all of our vlogs and we never shut up about her." Nick summed up the basics for the viewers at home.

I've been friends with the triplets since my freshman year of high school. Chris and I instantly clicked one day in Math when our more extroverted personalities found their ways to one another. He introduced me to his two triplet brothers at lunch that same day, and the rest was history. We became inseparable and spent every second of every day together since. Things became interesting with Matt and me as we got older and grew into ourselves but we officially started dating after we graduated high school. We were always scared to announce our relationship to his fans because they can be volatile to their female friends, but once we did and they accepted that we loved each other, we've been so open and comfortable expressing that love physically on camera.

"So, how this is gonna work is..we're gonna draw out of a hat and three people are gonna be either blind, deaf, or mute and one person won't be able to use their hands. Let's hope that person isn't Olivia, because she's the only one of us that really can bake, like at all," Chris addressed the room and the camera.

"Dude, if I get fucking handcuffed, this is gonna be awful," I raised my brows and turned to Chris.

"Have a little faith, kid," Chris bumped my hip with his. I heard the car keys rattle on Matt's belt loop as he pressed himself away from the counter and came up behind me to wrap his arms around my neck. My hands subconsciously reached up to grip his muscular forearms.

"Alright, well, let's get the fuck on with it," Matt spoke.

"Okay, relax. We've been rolling for two fucking minutes." Nick stuck an accusatory hand up at Matt.

Nick reached around the counter for the hat and we all drew a card.

"Matt, you say yours first," Nick assigned.

"Mute," Matt chuckled, "Too easy."

"Deaf," I read aloud, "Yay! I just get to listen to music." I ran over to the couch and grabbed my headphones, working to connect them to my phone and find a playlist.

"Noo!," Chris whined, "Handcuffed."

"Loser", Nick teased.

"Which means that I am blind." Nick concluded, "Olivia wanted to bake something from scratch but that's a bit too hard for us, so we just got boxed brownies with, like, an extra cookie thing that we have to do too."

As Nick started to read off the contents of the box, I placed the headphones over my ears and pressed "shuffle" on Spotify. The first song to grace my ears was "B.Y.O.B" by System of a Down. A loud, scream-y nu-metal jam to deafen my sensitive ears. If I listened to anything too quiet, I'd be able to hear them. I watched as Matt tied the blindfold onto Nick and then Chris tied the bandana onto Matt. Matt then locked the handcuffs onto Chris' wrists behind his back.

I watched as the three of them tried to talk to each other, myself trying to read their lips and body language. I knew Matt well enough to know he was frustrated and Chris well enough to know he was giving Nick directions.

Quickly, when they started to struggle too much, they called me over. However, my eyes were closed as I mouthed the words to the song and I couldn't hear them.

"Everybody's going to the party have a real good time," I sang with Serj and wagged my finger to the Ooh.

What made me open my eyes was Matt pushing a hand against my lower back to guide me to the counter. The sudden jolt and touch startled me and I lurched forward, almost falling into the hard counter top face first. Matt's hand quickly shot and gripped my waist, pulling me back into him.

"Oh my God!" I yelped, my hands shooting out in front of myself to stop me before he did. He spun me around in his hands and I placed my extended hands on his chest, "Thank you!" I yelled, unaware of my volume. He just pressed a finger to my lips to tell me to be quieter. I whispered a faint apology in return.

I looked over to Chris who was probably spewing some bullshit at us about how cheesy we are, seeing as how his left cheek flexed up slightly in annoyance. Matt ushered me over to the counter where they handed me the box to try and fix what they already messed up. I took one look at the batter and knew they added too much oil.

"Okay," I started, "I think you guys just put too much oil, but it's not hard to fix. I just need a dehydrator like flour or cornstarch to dry out the oil." I turned around to grab the flour from the cabinets that I stock for them, because if I didn't they'd either starve or waste all of their money on eating out.

Due to my shorter stature, I had to stand on my tip toes and stretch the life out of my arms to reach the flour. Matt came up behind me and placed a hand on my side to tell me to relax and he reached up and grabbed it for me. I thanked him before turning around and continuing to mix the brownies, Matt's front just brushed my back the whole time as he watched over my shoulder, his hand resting gently on my hip.

Once I was done with the brownies, I needed to grab a bowl for the cookie part. I wasn't planning on making it, since it's supposed to be a challenge, but I still grabbed the equipment needed. I bent down in front of Matt to grab a smaller bowl from the cabinet below the island. When I leaned over, I didn't realize two things; one, how close I was to Matt and what he wouldn't be able to resist doing when he noticed the position we were in, two, how it would look on camera.

Both of Matt's hands found my hips when I unexpectedly stuck my ass into the air right in front of his dick and he subconsciously pressed himself a tiny bit further into me. Soon, his hand left my hip and it braced itself on the counter above my head so that I wouldn't hit the counter when I got back up.

"Okay, so you guys need to do this, because this is supposed to be your guys' challenge." I started clearly over the sound of Evanescence’s "Going Under”. I sang the words under my breath as I turned away to let them do what they needed to do. I hopped up onto the counter behind them and enjoyed my music as I watched them yell at each other.

At least I thought they were yelling at each other...

Turns out they were yelling at me to preheat the oven that I was sitting next to. I watched as Matt stepped closer to me. He placed his hands on my thighs and nodded to the oven dials. I quickly understood and turned the dial to 350 degrees. Matt's eyes darted all across my face and down my body that was only clothed in shorts and a tank top due to the intense Los Angeles heat. I knew exactly what look he was giving me and it was killing him that he couldn't kiss me.

"Later," I mouthed to him and leaned forward to kiss his forehead. He dropped his head to my shoulder and I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulder to squeeze him into me.

Soon after, the brownies had made it out of the oven safely and we were all stripped of our sense-depriving shackles. I was kind of disappointed to be done with the music, but I missed hearing my favorite boys talk.

"Okay, the brownies are done and they look fine," Nick began to the camera, "But we did fuck them up a little bit, so hopefully Olivia's fix was okay."

"Bro, she's literally a professional chef at this point, I'm sure they're still gonna be great," Chris said matter-of-factly. Nick began to cut the brownies, which they should've baked on parchment paper, and got a piece for all of us. He slid it in front of me and we all tried a bite. They still tasted great and they looked like boxes.

"Obviously, if it were up to me, we wouldn't have boxed anything, but for a boxed brownie mix," Matt came up and hugged me from behind and my hands fell to his that wrapped around me, "I would give this is a solid 8 out of 10." I said giving a thumbs up with the camera.

When they had all given their notes and feedback, they said goodbye to the camera and turned it off.

"You guys need to practice a little something called self-control, you horny fucks," Said Nick as he shook his head and took down the filming equipment. 

"Shut the fuck up, Nick," Matt spat as he pulled me closer, "Hi, my girl. D'you have fun?" He asked, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

I pulled back slightly and leaned up to kiss his lips, "Mhm. I always have fun filming with you guys." I smiled up at his stunning face.

"What'd you listen to?" He asked, pulling away from the hug to reach over and grab a cup from the cabinet, but keeping a hand on my waist. I turned to watch him as he got what he needed.

"I listened to System of a Down and Evanescence. I wish that, like, Nirvana or something came on though." I sighed and looked down for a moment before focusing my attention back on him.

"S'nice. I need to branch out, broaden my musical horizons," He said as he filled his cup with water from the fridge.

"And your kitchen horizons, because, my God, you guys suck at baking." I teased exasperatedely.

"Hey, watch yourself," He tutted, "They suck at baking, I, on the other hand, can whip up a good dessert."

"Alright, mister, I bought already-been-smoked salmon and tried to cook it anyway, Sturniolo." I accused, rolling my eyes jokingly.

"Oh, yeah? You want to play it that way?" He smiled smugly and slowly stepped toward me, setting his water down on the kitchen island.

I backed away in response and put my hands up in defense, "I'm not playing anything. M'just sayin' it how it is. S'not my fault your egos too big."

"You little-," He cut himself off and reached for me. A high-pitched yelp escaped my mouth as I dodged his hand and I backed away from him before running to his bedroom. I might be more agile than him, but his legs are much longer than mine. He caught up to me as I was trying to slam his door shut, and he stopped the door before I could close it. He swooped in quickly, picked me up, and tossed me onto the bed, kicking the door shut somewhere in between.

"Matt!" I giggled, as I sat up, bracing my hands behind me. He crawled onto the bed in front of me and shoved my chest back down.

"Those brownies might have been good," He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss right below my ear, "But I know you're gonna taste even better," He whispered into my ear and began to trail a path of open-mouthed kisses down my neck...

//

author's note: alright...how'd we like it? I'm not entirely sure how I feel about it, but I wanted to put something out. I liked the concept but I'm unsure of how it turned out. let me know what you guys think.

all the love, she <3

[joeyfranchise]

do you believe in magic?

joe burrow x fem!reader

summary: joe loves watching you be unapologetically yourself as you do what you love, and he has to show you just how happy it makes him.

warnings: none really! just fluffy, cutesy and kissy 💋 but please minors do not interact!

word count: 1.3k

note: i’m a baker so this is pure self indulgent fluff with some sweet teasing!! (happy gamedey) 🤍

you danced around the kitchen, arms outstretched as you twirled around in circles. your headphones were tucked into your ears tightly, creating a barrier and providing you an escape from the real world.

your apron was covered in flour and the slightest bit of dough from the cookies you’d been baking all afternoon. this was your last batch, the thirty-sixth batch to be exact, and as soon as they were done you’d be finished and finally able to clean your space before individually wrapping and labeling all the cookies.

suddenly, one of your favorite songs began playing, and you couldn’t help singing along while you slid the fresh sheet pan of cookie dough into the oven. after you set the timer you grabbed the whisk, holding it up like a microphone so you could sing into it.

“do you believe in magic in a young girl's heart, how the music can free her whenever it starts,” you sang, eyes closed as you swayed to the music, the melody flowing through you. you continued spinning around with your eyes closed, singing along loudly as your cookies baked.

you didn’t see joe descend the stairs and make his way to the kitchen. he was standing against the doorway with his arms crossed, a small smile on his face at the sight of you. he loved watching you get lost in moments like these, doing something you loved.

his eyes crinkled and his smile widened as he continued to watch you, and you still had no idea he was there. he came down to see if you needed help frosting cookies or bagging and labeling them, but he was even happier he found you this way.

“if you believe in magic, don’t bother to choose, if it’s jug band music or rhythm and blues,” you sang out, finally opening your eyes and catching joe staring. you jumped at the sight, but you relaxed quickly when you realized it was him.

you pulled an airpod out to ask, “enjoying the show?” and joe laughed as he pushed off the door frame and walked toward you.

“loved it.” he said, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into him. his lips pressed against your forehead and you smiled at his sweet affection.

“oh!” you yelped, pushing off him, “your white shirt’s gonna get dirty!”

you motioned at your apron, which was still covered in flour and cookie dough. joe carded his fingers through his hair and licked his lips, stepping toward you again.

“nah, i put this on because i was gonna come see if you needed help decorating or packing these things up.”

you grinned at his words, excited that he wanted to help you. you decided to make a bunch of cookies for a local bake sale that was going on this weekend, and it meant a lot that joe wanted to get his hands dirty to help you finish everything up so you weren’t too tired when you dropped them off the next morning.

you grabbed his hand, dragging him to the counter so you could show him what to do.

“alright these are the sugar cookies,” you motioned toward them, “but i need to put royal icing on them so you can leave them be.”

you moved down a bit, pointing to a few trays of smaller cookies. “these are heart jam cookies… well they will be. i need to put this strawberry jam on them in little heart shapes.” you picked up the jar to show him and a playful look crossed his eyes.

“the last few batches are chocolate chip and snickerdoodle, and those just need to be bagged if you want to start that.” you told him, placing the jar back on the counter.

“actually babe, can i try doing the heart jam?” he asked, playfully poking out his bottom lip. “okay, i guess…” you agree reluctantly, “but please try to do a good job!”

“i will. can you take your headphones out and play us some music?” he grins, and you nod your head yes.

“yep! but my music.” you say, winking. the oven dings just then, so you put your oven mitt on and you pull the cookies out, tapping them twice against the counter. joe gives you a questioning look.

“it’s a lil trick i learned. i don’t exactly know how it works, but that’s how my cookies always have crispy edges and are soft in the middle.” he nods with understanding, smiling to himself. you finally turn your headphones off and begin playing music, your favorite playlist of 60s & 70s classic rock.

joe pops the lid off the jam and grabs a small spoon, getting to work on the jam hearts. you begin packaging the cooled snickerdoodles, labeling them with a new blue sharpie. it doesn’t take you long to finish, so you move to decorate your sugar cookies.

you look over joe’s shoulder to check his progress, and you’re astounded.

“JOEY!” you shriek, jumping up and down. it alarms him for a second as he quickly turns to face you. “what? did i fuck them up? is there a spider?”

“no, they’re perfect. like probably even better than what i’d do!” you assure him.

he smiles at the compliment and turns back to his work, ready to finish his cookies so he could pack them. you start decorating the sugar cookies as well, working as quickly as you can on them.

joe finished well before you, so he went ahead and bagged all the chocolate chip cookies too. all that was left were your sugars, and you only had a few left.

you were laser focused on finishing, and you were paying no mind to joe. he, however, was plotting against you. he took the spoon he was using to put the jam on the cookies and dipped it back into the jam, waiting for the moment to strike. he looked at you again, lost in your work as you quietly sang along to dreams by fleetwood mac.

he slowly made his way to you, and in one quick motion he reached out and swiped the jam across your cheek.

“DUDE!” you yelled, reaching up to touch the sticky confection that was now smeared across your face. you looked down at your icing bags quickly, grabbing one and lunging at joe. he thought he’d be quicker than you but you got him in just enough time to smear some of the icing along the bridge of his nose.

he grimaced at the cold feeling. “see, doesn’t feel good does it?” you tease, putting the icing bag back down. you look over to joe, a playful glint shining in his eye. he steps toward you and takes your face in his hands, pulling you close to him. he leans in slowly before licking a slow, languid stripe along your cheek, cleaning off the jam. you shudder.

joe pulls away and looks back at you, smirking. your arms wrap around his neck and you pull him in for a kiss, his tongue instantly finding yours. the sweet strawberry jam lingers on his tongue and finds its way into your kiss.

your hands thread into his hair as the kiss deepens, and joe softly moans as you tug the strands. he moves you backwards until your back is against the fridge, your kiss never breaking. you moan softly as joe’s hands find your waist. he pulls back a bit, nipping at your bottom lip.

“joe..,” you say breathlessly, looking up at him. “we’ve gotta finish the cookies!”

he erupts into a fit of laughter and you aren’t sure why until you realize that the icing you squirted on his face is all smeared, and now you know. it’s on your face too.

you laugh and grab some paper towels, wetting them under the warm tap and cleaning his face, then your own. joe slaps your ass as you walk away to throw away the dirty rags.

you turn and look at him, raising an eyebrow. “easy tiger,” you warn, walking back over to him slowly. “if you help me finish these cookies, we’ll go upstairs and you can have your treat.”

taglist: @slimshiesty @starsinthesky5 @kykysinlovewithafairytale @burrowdarling @bengals-barnesbabe @joeyb1989 @loveyatopluto @toterry @unhingedfangirl @superheroprincess22 @burreauxsworld

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

ITS EVOLUTION, BABY !

pairings ⸺Yandere! Justice League! x Inmortal!Fem!reader.

couple of today! ⸺Yandere! Kal-El x Inmortal! Fem! Reader

This is a Headcanon!

sinopsis ⸺ You had seen it all. From the first whisper of life in the primordial oceans to the deafening buzz of the modern era. Every advancement, every innovation, a heavier burden on your shoulders. Nothing surprised you anymore; everything was predictable and monotonous, so you found refuge in a small apartment in the heart of Metropolis, away from the bustling human nonsense.

Until one day a flying bus crushed you.

warnings ⸺ Dark Themes, Dead, Religion, murdering, Disturbing Content, Unhealthy Obsession, Discrimination, War, Street Fights, Gaslight, Suicide, Violence, Blood, LGBT Content, Kidnapping, NSFW, Sexual Content, Mental Illness, Addiction, Torture, Corruption, Isolation, Trauma, Phobias, Paranoia, Manipulation.

A/N — Bah, just another story pulled from my imagination after dancing all afternoon to Pearl Jam songs while cleaning the house.

This land is mine, this land is free

I'll do what I want but irresponsibly

▪︎Your immortality is neither epic nor glorious. You were not born from the stars or from scientific labs. There was no cosmic ray, no magic potions, no caped heroes to save you. Your existence is simple, without ornamentation.

▪︎You are water.

▪︎Or, to be more precise, you were a microscopic being living in a drop of water attached to a wandering meteorite that roamed through the void, in the infinite silence of space, before arriving on Earth. In that tiny liquid bubble, you were happy, surrounded by other beings who knew neither pain nor time. Everything was calm.

▪︎Until one day, your home plummeted toward the planet you would come to know as Earth.

▪︎There your true evolution began.

▪︎Millions of years passed, and you witnessed it all. You observed the first spark of life in the primordial oceans, the giant reptiles crawling across the continents, and the hominids standing upright on two legs. With each evolutionary cycle, you adapted, but you always remained, indifferent to the passage of time. Nothing truly affected you… Until Martha appeared.

▪︎Martha was your youngest daughter, for now. At eighty years old, Martha was the only thing you had left in this world that no longer mattered to you. Time, that relentless enemy that did not touch you, was wreaking havoc on her. Wrinkles adorned her face, her hands trembled as she knitted. But she made you feel something you thought you had forgotten: humanity. Martha kept you anchored to a world that had become irrelevant to you.

▪︎You did not live in Metropolis with her because she had her own life, and you spent your time wandering to every corner of the earth. Aimless and without a home to sleep in.

▪︎But you decided to visit her when you learned from her husband that she was in the hospital. It wasn’t serious, but she was the most important thing you had, and even at eighty years old, she would still be your little sweet baby.

▪︎Your journey was calm; listening to rock bands and old songs relaxed you. Nothing could disturb your zen state.

▪︎But then came the bus. The fucking bus.

▪︎An empty bus flew out from a nearby building, a flash of blue and red, and chaos erupted in the streets. Superman, facing Lex Luthor, knocked a bus right onto you. One second of distraction and you were crushed, like a puppet torn to pieces.

▪︎Your blood spilled onto the pavement and the broken glass of your car, which was now nothing more than scrap metal.

▪︎Superman, the defender of justice, landed right next to your car, using his infrared vision to see your mangled body inside the vehicle.

▪︎His face filled with horror.

▪︎Why always an innocent person? A choked sob, his eyes full of remorse as he saw you, a pool of blood and broken bones.

▪︎It was not the first time he had a lapse, but it was the first time it cost a human and innocent life.

▪︎The worst part was that you were young, with a long life ahead of you, and his carelessness took that gift away. What would happen to your family when they found out? How would they feel knowing that Superman, the so-called greatest hero, couldn’t save you?

▪︎He was devastated.

▪︎Until, to his surprise, you got up. Your body began to regenerate, bones rejoining, skin closing over the wounds. Superman watched you in disbelief, his hands trembling.

▪︎“Can’t you really be more careful?” you said, your voice filled with exhaustion, brushing off the dust as if nothing had happened. The hero was left speechless. You were immortal.

▪︎That was where it all began.

A/N - And well, this is just a little Headcanon that might turn into a series (hopefully not, because it would be way too long)

I’ll upload more soon, as well as another DC Yandere series. I’ll also post a few updates to explain some things—no need to read them, but it would be app

P.S.: If you’re a reader of the Silly Little Bat series, don’t worry. I’ll upload chapter three soon.

Don’t forget, if you want to request something, the shop is open

Take a bath!

[churipu]

WHAT REMINDS THEM OF YOU 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

ִ ࣪𖤐 featuring. gojo satoru, megumi fushiguro, itadori yuuji

ִ ࣪𖤐 warnings. just pure fluff :D

note. i was going to write some hurt comfort — but then i figured that i wanted to keep myself sane for today :>

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

anything strawberry. scent, taste — anything strawberry.

gojo remembered when the first time he brought you home some honeoye strawberries after a mission since it was in season. the way your eyes just lit up at the sight of strawberries made him happy, and from then on — gojo looks at a picture of a strawberry or even smelled strawberry from god knows where.

he just thinks of you.

one time gojo saw a rabbit eating a strawberry while scrolling through his social media, and he wasted no time sending the video to you with a small message: "you <33"

or the other time gojo sees a bucket cap with strawberry motives and he just had to get it for you. the male waited in line for half an hour for that hat (and he had to "fight" a kid for it, he won in the end because the kid moved on to a duck motive hat instead).

"baby, look what i got you — strawberry scented bath bomb. it was the last one on stock, and i had to argue with a lady over it," he happily bursts through the door, boasting while raising what seemed to be a bath bomb.

gojo just knows when you change your usual brand of strawberry lip balm. it took him a peck and he asks you, "did you change your brand? this one tastes weird," he wipes his lips.

"they were out of stock, 'toru."

"why didn't you say so?" he cooed, kissing the bridge of your nose, "i'd go to the other side of the earth to get you one, y'know?"

you chuckled, "or, i could just wait for it to stock back . . ."

"nonsense!"

𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

the smiths.

he finds it amusing when you start quoting that one scene from 500 days of summer, "i love the smiths . . ." and he just unexpectedly replied with, "sorry?"

but that time — he didn't know that he was "unknowingly" going along with it. confused, he had to question you about it, and when you told him it was from a movie. megumi finally understood and thought that maybe you really liked the movie.

he was wrong. it wasn't the movie, it was the smiths. so now, every time he sees anything or hears anything about the band, he finds himself thinking about you — but he'd never actually say that. megumi often listens to their songs just so he could understand when you talked to him about it.

also, quoting the movie was now a habit for you two. you just go, "i love the smiths," out of the blue and megumi will continue it (even if he says that it's pretty corny).

megumi loves it when you listen to the smiths out loud, singing softly to the tune. the male tries really hard to get you unofficial merchandise, official merchandise for the smiths are actually so hard to find today — so he just had to go and make it custom for you.

"and when the double decker bus, crashes into us . . ." he heard you sing, both of your ears jammed with earbuds from the earphones, "to die by your side."

that, was your favorite song. and megumi made it into a custom painting of you and him as if the two of you were in that one scene in 500 days of summer. i'm not kidding.

𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐉𝐈

mochi skin. the texture, the flesh. it just reminded him of your cheeks — it's so squishy and soft. every single time he buys a mochi, he makes sure to do something that he calls a squish test.

where he squishes the mochi, and then squishes your cheeks. if they don't feel the same, yuuji gets rid of the mochi and gets another one (he eats them).

"it doesn't feel the same y/n, i don't like it," he whines out softly, tossing the mochi into his mouth — he angrily takes out another bill of cash to buy another mochi.

"yuuji, why does it have to be the same again?" you asked him, hands inside your pockets.

"because . . ." good point. why?

the male prompts to ignore you and buy another one (three others) to make sure they are the same texture as your cheeks. it's something he does — if a mochi he buys doesn't feel the same way like your cheeks does.

he eats them or lets you have them.

if it does.

he also eats them or lets you have them.

it's just something he does for fun, so he could always remember you. and when you're not there with him — yuuji makes sure to buy at least five before coming over to visit you so he could do the test.

when he's not feeling like it but he misses you, he takes a video and sends it to you with a caption: "i miss you."

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[watermelonsugacry]

harry's 30th birthday blurb with 1d!yn?! 👀

Birthday Surprises

SUMMARY: Harry celebrates his 19th and 30th birthday with the person he loves.

GENRE: 1dbandmember!yn, married!ynrry

Since 2010 masterlist

Not to sound ungrateful, but Harry thinks that this was one of the worst birthday celebrations that he's ever had.

Tonight, he just wanted to spend his last year being a teenager having fun with friends—not be completely embarrassed and uncomfortable being strip teased and danced on by strippers. 

Not to mention that afterwards, One Direction’s management team had booked him to do a relationship stunt for the night. So as he walked out of the club and into his security team’s Range Rover, a tall, blonde model was by his side. As bad as it sounded, he couldn’t remember the girl’s name for the life of him. 

Nothing was going to happen with her anyways. All they had to do was a couple of paparazzi pictures of them together before they’re driven off into the night. The driver would discreetly drop her off at her own hotel before escorting Harry back to his. 

So there's not an ounce of uncertainty that when Harry comes out of the elevator, he's absolutely tired and wants nothing more than to be left alone.

He waves his card key in front of the lock and once he hears the little "beep" sound, he pushes the heavy door open.

His irritation and tiredness might have just peaked over its breaking point when he begins to hear rustling from inside. He’s already extremely worn out that he doesn’t even want to put in the effort into putting on a nice face to whoever’s inside his hotel room. But the smile that appears on his face is effortless when he sees YN flicking the wheel of the lighter over some birthday candles sticking out of a chocolate cake.

“Fucking fuck—oh, surprise!” She hops, extending her arms out beside her in what she hopes to look like a grand gesture.

“What’s going on?”

“We’re celebrating your birthday.” 

Anyone a mile away can tell how uncomfortable he was during the whole stripper fiasco. It sucked to have to stand off to the side, a faux smile on her face to see her bandmate in that type of situation. As much as she wanted to stay with him for the other “fun” festivities the night had to offer, she knew that she couldn’t let his birthday end the way it was heading. So she took the chance to leave the club a bit early and hoped that he would be up for one more celebratory, late night hang out.  

“But, but it’s already past midnight,” He blinks, still a little dumbfounded at the kind surprise before him.

"Oh come on, we only have—err—three, ah! Two more minutes until your birthday is officially over." YN pulls Harry over to the small dining table and sits him down in front of his freshly lit cake. It's then that he notices the shaky lettering on the cake that reads, “Happy Birthday Harry!” Letting him know that she went more out of her way for him than she initially let on. 

She comically clears her throat before beautifully yet quickly singing the infamous Happy Birthday song. The song isn't being yelled at to him by a big group of people, and the room isn't jam-packed with people he doesn't know. When he leans over to blow out his candles, he isn't fearful of hands going to the back of his head to stuff his face into the cake.

He doesn’t think twice about wrapping her up in his arms. He squeezes the tops of her shoulders tightly and she nestles into his chest. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, “Thank you.”

The sentiment doesn't, can't go by unnoticed, but it doesn't seem totally out of the norm. This is Harry. A sweet and affectionate person whose love language is undoubtedly physical touch. If anything, it'd be YN feeling the one out of place in this situation. And maybe it was a change of heart towards her anti-touchy feelings or maybe it was because of his birthday. Either way, he's grateful for the way she's letting him hold her. If it were anyone else, she definitely wouldn't wrap her arms around his torso, humming at the warmth he brings.

"Well the night doesn’t have end here,” YN blinks up at him. As if they both realize their close proximity, they slowly pull away to give each other some space. “If you're still up for it and not too tuckered out, I rented that one stupid rom com you like. The one with the guy standing outside with the signs."

"Love Actually? I thought you didn't like that movie."

"Well to be fair, I actually have never seen it. But it’s your birthday and this is sort of part of my gift to you. You know, if you even wanna see it. If not, I can just fuck off and you can sleep because I know you probably had a pretty eventful day—”

She’s rambling. YN’s rambling—a quality she was never prone to particularly show, but it’s cute. He thinks she’s cute. 

“YN,” He chuckles, effectively cutting her off. “I’m down to watch it.”

“Really? Okay, cool. Because I already have the film on queue in the room so that would have been real fooking embarrassing.” Annnd she’s back.

He watches with curious eyes as she carefully slides the heavy cake plate onto her hands. 

She throws a nod towards the kitchenette, “Mind grabbing the forks.”

As much as Harry tries to resist it, he can’t seem to wipe the smile off his face. He quickly grabs the two utensils before following behind her to the open bedroom. YN quite literally steps onto the foot of the bed before carefully sitting down, balancing the cake in her hands.

He sits down next to her, handing her the fork just as she begins the movie. They both dig their forks into the middle of the cake, taking out a chunk.

“Happy birthday, Harry,” She says, clicking the ends of their forks together. She happily hums at the delicious dessert but it quickly turns into a groan at the opening aong of the movie. “Ah not this stupid song again. I felt like this was all i was hearing just the other month.”

He’d be lying if he said he was watching more of the movie than her. His cheeks hurt from chuckling at her witty commentary and he tries not to make a big deal about the way she actually started to get into the film. So as he eats cake and spends the rest of the night with his best friend, he thinks that this might be the best birthday he’s had in a long time.

• 11 years later ●

YN stumbles through the front door as Harry cradles her in his arms, his mouth feverishly pressed to hers. They smile through their kisses, and he hums as she runs her finger through his growing curls. Harry kicks the door of their shared home behind him and blindly tosses the keys haphazardly in the general direction of the bowl by the door.

“Okay, okay,” YN pushes against his shoulders, finally getting a breath in, the pair still walking further into their home without separating. “So I know you said you didn't want any more presents—”

“Baby,” the grown man playfully whines. “You've already given me everything.” In all sincerity, she really has in his eyes. He’s been in love with the woman before him since they were sixteen. He wanted to be with her since their time in the band, through the making of their solo albums and everything in between. Even though it’s been a little over a year now, it still brings an explainable peace and warmth to his heart that she’s now his wife; not his friend with benefits, secret lovers, or merely a couple, but married.

And today couldn't have gone better. YN had the whole day planned. They started the day with lazy morning sex that turned into breakfast in bed. They spent the afternoon down by a secluded beach, having an impromptu dip in the water just before eating the lunch she packed for them. Then, after a plane ride to their private villa in Italy, they've just got back from having a beautiful dinner at his favorite restaurant.

“There's nothing more I could possibly want. Ooo, unless you're hiding some sexy lingerie under this fine ass dress you got here.” He says into her the crook of her neck, already sponging kisses onto her skin.

YN lets out a laugh, especially as his fingers begin to bunch up her silk dress. “No! Well, not no but—”

“So you do,” Harry says with excitement, the creases in his eyes appear when he hears her laughter. 

“Just hang on a sec. Your present is upstairs.”

“So I get to unwrap my last birthday present in the bedroom,” He teases her further. Her husband relishes in the way she lets out a girly squeal when he dips down and effortlessly lifts her over his shoulder to bring them into the master bedroom. 

 “Wait, wait,” She pushes as Harry plops them down on the bed, already trapping her underneath him. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a sec.”

Once she's managed to wiggle herself free (with great effort, no thanks to Harry) she scurries off to the connected bathroom.

He sits himself down on the bed, undoing the cuffs of his button up before rolling up his sleeves, preparing himself to see if wife in lacy undergarments that are only begging to be taken off by his teeth. Or torn off. Either one would work.

“H, close your eyes.” YN says from behind the door. “I mean it, no peeking.”

“Alright, alright.” He complies, already feeling a childlike sense of giddy anticipation. 

“Are they closed?”

“Yeah.”

“...are you sure?”

“Yes! For fuck sake’s woman. Being so mean on my birthday,” he laughs.

He feels the bed dip next to him before a kiss is pressed to his lips. Before he can bring his hands to her jaw to deepen the sweet kiss, he feels something being placed in his hands.

“Okay, open them,” she says against his lips.

He pulls back and sees a red box tied with a bow on top. 

“Lovie, you really shouldn't have.”

“Last one, I promise.”

Just to tease her, he brings the small box next to his head and shakes it slightly to hear the contents rattle inside.

YN makes a strategic move by placing one of her hands behind him so her thumb can twist at her rings, knowing that that's her dead giveaway for her nerves.

When he opens the lid, it's only then his face gets serious—lips slightly parted with soft eyes. On top of the pile of confetti lies a pregnancy test. The small, red plus line stares back at him clear as day.

“YN?” When he looks to his love, she begins to hold back her tears at the sight of his watery eyes and pink nose. “Is—wha—are you sure?”

“I took like five of them just to be sure,” she lets out a chuckle.

“We’re having a baby?” Words can't describe the warmth and happiness that fills her chest at his excitement. It's not like they haven't mentioned having kids before. It's been brought up a couple of times, most recently these past two years, but the timing was never right. They were always working; whether it be on making an album, working on themselves, and for the longest time, tour was their babies. But now that their 2 year world tours have ended and they've finally had time to go MIA for a couple of months, it didn't feel like a better time.

The couple wasn't setting up a schedule or anything technical to have a baby. Especially since going on their second honeymoon had been occupying their schedule right after touring was done, they decided that baby making would happen naturally. Whenever their baby decided to enter their lives, that would be the perfect time.

YN nods and before she can say the words to verbally confirm, he has her wrapped in his arms. Harry lifts her off the bed and gives her a little twirl.

As quickly as he picked her up, he's on his knees before her and puts a gentle hand on her tummy.

“Hi, bubba,” he says softly. YN beams at the sight, already wiping at the happy tears running down her cheeks. “I'm your daddy, and I love you so so much.”

After placing a gentle kiss on her stomach, he finally takes his wife's face in his hands and kisses her. It isn't rushed or filled with a sexual need. It's soft and filled with so much love and passion.

“We're gonna be parents, baby. You’re gonna make the best momma," he says sincerely, getting more emotional at the thought of holding a mini YN or a mini him in his arms in less than a year from now.

"And you're gonna make the best dad," she hums. He wraps his arms around the tops of her shoulders, pulling her close to him as she cuddles into him. He presses a kiss to her forehead and sniffs back his tears.

"I love you so much."

“i love you, baby. Happy birthday, Harry.”

.

.

taglist:

@ashtongivesmebutterflies @cacapeepee @thurhomish @armystay89

(Let me know if you wanna be added 💚)

[vapekingg]

Heyyy bestie, if you’re still looking for Eddie prompts, how about rockstar!eddie that’s like publicly obsessed with his wife, always talking bout her interviews and name dropping her in songs, and so he has gained the reputation of being a “wife guy” to all his fans.

Thank you! Shout out to my wife because I would also be Eddie "The Wife Guy" Munson if I were famous @doomsdaybby

"How are we feeling tonight, Los Angeles?" Eddie's voice is smooth and steady over the microphone that's stationed at the center of the stage.

The House of Blues. Los Angeles, California. Night eight of their second World Tour.

You and Eddie are used to the limelight. Your relationship had bloomed in it.

From the first day you met at The Hideout, to working the merch table at Corroded Coffin’s first shows, to getting engaged on stage during the encore of closing night on their first world tour.

It became sort of a thing, your romance. The higher Eddie’s band soared on the charts, the more desirable he became, the more the media swarmed you. They had questions, understandably.

Is this gonna last? Are you ever worried when Eddie’s on tour? Do you think he’s been faithful all these years?

As if you could dare to question Eddie's loyalty.

His manager had warned him to break things off with you when they first signed. Guys like him are supposed to remain available. They represent something in Hollywood. The sex, drugs, rock and roll of it all. But whenever those flashing lights started going off, he was quick to grab your hand or pull you into his ribs and fall into the roll of overprotective partner that his groupies so wish that he would abandon.

It's become sort of a thing — him name dropping you any chance he gets.

"The fans want to know, Eddie. What do you look for in a woman?" He'd recently been asked in an interview.

His eyebrows had scrunched up a bit, not understanding the question.

"I look for my wife." He'd responded with a flippant motion of his hand, as if the answer was that obvious.

You stand side-stage now. Eddie waves his arms in the air to egg the crowd on. Their screams are deafening even over the in-ear monitor that he had specially fitted for you.

"That's what I like to hear. All right, this next song goes out to my fucking wife!" He screams into the microphone.

This is the fifth song in a row that he has dedicated to you, and each time it gets the same reaction.

"Babe, this one's for you!" "Love you, sweetheart. This is our jam!" "Everyone give it up for Mrs. Fucking Munson!"

You can't hear your own laughter over the sound of the drums that begin with the strum of his guitar, but it's there. The laughter is always there.

[bbyobbyo]

Ever since you stopped using his Spotify account in the mornings, you find other ways to mess with your boyfriend.

A short continuation of this fic, but can be read as a standalone.

content: fluff, established relationship, idol!Jihoon, banter, reader and jihoon just have a permanent jam session going on, they’re in love i swear

wc: 857

note: ahhh they’re back!! thank you to everyone who read the first part and gave it love😊 this has been rotting my brain for a while and i originally was playing with this concept for the original but couldn’t pull it together but we’re here now! shoutout to @highvern because it was partly inspired by her fic “Between the Titles” which is such a great read that i highly recommend along with literally everything else she writes!! all the songs featured here are real and from an era of kpop I hold near and dear to my heart so if you recognize any of them, you’re a real one 🥰

Jihoon is not a morning person, never has been. As he sits in the dressing room of the filming studio, he can feel his eyelids getting increasingly heavy. Some of his members are actively sleeping, in fact, and Jihoon knows he’ll be joining them soon if Wonwoo takes any longer in that makeup chair.

Blasting in his ears is his usual Bruno Mars playlist, a sad attempt to try to recover his energy before he knocks out next to Mingyu sleeping on a mat on the floor, but to no avail because his mind slowly slips away until a piercing airhorn noise jolts him awake.

SEVENTEEN TEEN TEEN NEOWANA SAI E

Uhh. This was definitely not his Daily Bruno Mars Mix.

He immediately searches his screen to find out what happened when he finds his answer in the form of a text from you.

[8:18 am] good morning sleepyhead :)

[8:18 am] hope I didnt scare you too bad :)

He scrunches his face up in disbelief, half amused that you managed to catch him off guard with possibly the most annoying wake up song on Seventeen’s discography, and half annoyed at the realization that he must’ve forgotten to cancel your Spotify Jam session from yesterday.

He decides to leave your text on read. After all, he has plenty of time to be petty today. Furiously searching through his library, he queues up a song and before Mingyu can finish singing the first chorus, he smashes the next track button in smug anticipation.

Now Playing: Fxxk U • Gain, Bumkey

And he doesn’t have to wait long before he gets your reply.

[8:20 am] oh i see how it is

Now Playing: This is War • MBLAQ

If Jihoon wasn’t awake before, he definitely is now. Even as he gets called in to do his makeup next, he thinks carefully about his next move.

Now Playing: LOSER • BIGBANG

…

Now Playing: WHO, YOU? • G-DRAGON

An audible scoffs escapes from his lips as he involuntarily tilts his head back in amusement, much to the dismay of his makeup artist who had just started on his foundation. He mutters a shy sorry before resuming his search for a reply. Maybe he needs to take a different approach to this if he hopes to continue having Jam sessions with you in the future.

Now Playing: Whatcha Doin’ Today • 4Minute

As Jihoon eventually discovers, his hopes to change the topic of conversation were in vain as two songs were suddenly queued one after another.

Now Playing: Why Don’t You Know • CHUNG HA, Nucksal

Next in Queue: Mind Your Own Business • Ailee

Jihoon thinks he’s met his match, coming to the realization that he could never out sass the love of his life. But he wasn’t willing to back down so easily either.

Now Playing: I’m so sick • Apink

Next in Queue: Because of you • After School

Your next move nearly sends him to tears.

Now Playing: Excuse Me • AOA

Next in Queue: You Don’t Love Me • Spica

Next in Queue: I ain’t going home tonight • Navi, Geeks

Next in Queue: I Don’t Need a Man • miss A

As he chuckles to himself for what seems like the hundredth time this morning, this newfound form of entertainment suddenly becomes incredibly precious. Although you see each other nearly every day, Jihoon realizes just how much he misses you, talking to you about everything and nothing at all, bantering like you’ve known each other for your entire lives.

Now Playing: Am I too easy? • U-KISS

...

Now Playing: Mystery • Beast

Even though he couldn’t be with you physically, he knew you were enjoying yourself just as much as him on the other side. He could almost picture your smile of satisfaction as you found your next song, knowing that he would appreciate your humor. And appreciate he did, happily tapping away at his screen until his makeup artist puts on his finishing touches and tells him to call the next member.

Now Playing: Gotta Go • CHUNG HA

Next in Queue: I’m Busy • 2NE1

Next in Queue: Plz Don’t Be Sad • HIGHLIGHT

…

Now Playing: Okay Dokey • MINO, ZICO

Little does he know that his members are in the corner snickering at the sight, knowing that only one thing could have their producer smiling like an idiot at his phone the whole morning.

Soon enough, Jihoon and his members get swept up into their schedule involving the filming of various contents for their Youtube Channel, a task that usually takes the entire day if a game is involved. Thankfully, the game allowed for members to go home early, a rare treat considering how competitive his members can get when it comes to shooting content.

After his usual rounds of “good work everyone” to the company staff and his members, he gets ready to see the person who been on his mind (and in his ears) since the morning. Taking out his phone, he queues one last song while exiting the building.

Now Playing: Run to you • SEVENTEEN

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Jinx x reader

So jinx is out doing whatever she’s doing and so reader is chilling with Vi (yes I’m delusional their all a happy family season 2 doesn’t even exist!) but reader and vi are listening to like Justin Bieber or whatever white girl song (they’ve both told jinx that they don’t listen to that type of music) so bout time jinx gets back vi and reader are full on jamming to Justin and as soon as reader saw jinx they sat down and put all the blame on vi legit saying “dang vi i didn’t know you liked this type of music.” With the smug grin on their face and vi just looks at reader dumbfounded as the reader causally didn’t just throw her under the bus.

Unbelievable

|| Jinx x nonbinary!reader

|| Warnings; fluffy, reader blames the music on Vi, Vi and reader jamming to Justin Bieber, brief swearing, short drabble

|| Summary; when Jinx leaves, Vi and reader put on their favourite guilty pleasures.

Requests closed!

Started; November 28th

Finished; November 28th

~~~

"Okay, she's gone." You returned to Vi, after having given your girlfriend a kiss goodbye. Jinx went off doing lord knows what, leaving you with her sister Vi for company. Which you were fine with. You and Vi got along pretty well, anyway. Vi grins when she heard you and immediately puts the music on. Justin Bieber playing through the speaker.

You and Vi were secret Justin fans. Secret because... how could you let anyone know? It would ruin your cool facades. Plus, you both already told Jinx that you hated that type of music. Not that Jinx really cared, she just kind of shrugged and went "okay? weirdos" when you kept saying you didn't like it. You and Vi were really overselling your points, so Jinx was a little sceptical but didn't question it.

It's been about an hour now, you and Vi were fully jamming along to Baby by Justin Bieber. Head banging, dancing and even singing. Just having a grand old time in your secret dance party. The door opened right as you and Vi had started the song, both singing the lyrics; "I know you love me! I know you care~" grinning like a couple of idiots. Until you caught onto the door being opened and immediately sat yourself down on the couch, looking flustered.

"Y/N, come on! It's the good- oh," Vi stopped when she noticed what you did. Seeing Jinx watching them with an amused expression.

"Don't like this music, huh?" She folded her arms, blowing her hair a bit from her face while she grinned. Jinx was enjoying this.

"It was all Vi. Dang, Vi I didn't know you like this type of music," you looked at with a smug smirk. Vi, meanwhile, looked at you completely dumbfounded and speechless. You did not just throw her under the bus. No, you didn't throw her. You tossed her.

Jinx laughed and skipped over to you, plopping herself down in your lap as the music continued to play. Her arms wrapped around you and she snugged right up, your arms easily finding their way around her waist. "Vi, I thought you liked rock music?" She asked her sister with a teasing look in her eyes.

Vi huffed and rolled her eyes, sticking the middle finger at you," fuck you." Though there was no real hate behind her words.

"Hey, don't be mean to them," Jinx pouted at Vi, clinging to you tighter, almost protectively so. Your grin became more smug at that and held her closer.

"Yeah, don't be mean," you repeated. Innocent act in full swing now.

"Unbelievable." Vi muttered, shutting the music off. She couldn't believe you just did that. And Jinx was taking your side? Vi knew Jinx had seen you dancing too. She really did just take any opportunity to mess with her, huh?

[yutahoes]

Dom

I'll start by apologizing because this had been requested for so long and it had been in my drafts since last year. You could definitely see the shift in the writing styles in here and I can say that I wrote better last year.

Anyways, a little indulgent smut (?) fic to celebrate the release of Depth. Have you heard of all the songs in the album? What was your favorite so far? And the MV! What are your thoughts? I can't believe we're in the YUTA SOLO ERA! We only wished for this a long time ago but here we are now. So proud to be in this moment with you, fellow Yutamis.

characters: rockstar! boyfriend! Yuta Nakamoto x girlfriend! Reader genre: smut, fluff if you squint word count: 2.5k words summary: How to dom your dom (and failing at it) warnings: BADLY WRITTEN SMUT, rockstar Yuta, topless Yuta, curse words, exhibitionism, fingering, horny reader, edging, dominatrix, submissive reader, dominant Yuta, leather, handcuffs, pussy eating, squirting, penetrative sex, riding, arm obsession (can you blame me?), LAME ENDING (Will I be making another part of this? I don't have the strength but I wanted to.)

“Yuta! Yuta! Yuta!” 

“Encore! Encore! Encore!” 

The crowd kept on shouting, begging the rockstar to grace the stage with his presence for another song. 

"Yuta! Yuta! Yuta!" 

It was a jam-packed concert. Hours of singing his original songs in front of audiences who love him and Yuta Nakamoto's rocker charisma. 

"Yuta! Yuta! Yuta!" 

"Yuta," you moaned against his ear, breathless and low. One of his hands held the wall, trapping you between the solid concrete and his lean topless body. The other cupped between your legs, fingers exploring the wettest part of your body. 

"Encore! Encore! Encore!" 

"More," you begged. You grind your hips on his fingers as you feel him smirk against the crook of your neck. "Please," You were so desperate, eager for the much-needed release that has been coiling in your stomach for a while now. "I'm close." You didn't care if the staff behind the stage were giving you side glances. You didn't care if they eyed you as a dirty woman for getting worked up backstage from your rockstar boyfriend's fingers. You just wanted that release—that orgasm. 

The crowd cheered just as a static of the microphone could be heard. Your eyes widened in surprise when you felt the coldness between your bodies. Yuta, in his sexy state with sweat beads forming on his forehead and his immaculate skin, smirked as he walked away from you. You gave him a pleading gaze as he chuckled, "Yuta.” He shrugged then stepped forward once then kissed your lips quickly.

Your much-needed orgasm. 

A step back then another step forward before he cupped your face with his hands, "Just three songs left, baby." You pouted when he ran to the stairs heading to the stage, the song turning louder along with everyone's cheers. But you cannot wait that long. 

With a huff and frustration, you went back to his dressing room. You were so annoyed at the orgasm that it transcended to your boyfriend. You can hear the fans shouting and squealing his name. That should be you, screaming his name in pleasure. Your boyfriend's voice resonated throughout the area. And you can see, from the small monitor in the room, how he commanded the stage while showing his naked torso. 

Seeing him on stage is such a turn-on. He looks so good with sweat running down the valley of his well-toned pecs. His abdomen shimmered as stage lights were focused on him. You noticed how his upper body was thicker and more pronounced in contrast to his small waist. His arms looked so delectable. How hot. Yuta's handsome face adds to the rockstar effect as he playfully sticks his tongue out or winks at the camera as if he knew you were watching. 

Fuck, you want him so bad. 

No, you fucking need him right now. 

The desperation for release led you to those explicit videos on your phone, your personal collection of your sexy time with your horny rockstar boyfriend. But still, nothing. It didn't even ease the feeling you have right now. You needed him physically. Desperately. 

You scrolled on Tiktok instead, hoping to get some feedback on your boyfriend's performance. But as you scroll up, a certain video has caught your attention. A caption can be seen with an image of a pretty girl wearing leather lingerie with some rope tied around her fists, how to dom your dom. 

You are straight. You were so sure about that. But the way the girl presented herself was super erotic. The dominatrix vibe is such a turn-on. Is this a sign that you are such a submissive? 

A smirk escaped your lips. Maybe you'll try something new today. Maybe you can give Yuta a taste of his own medicine. 

A decision has been made.

Today, you'll dom your dom. 

Your boyfriend said that he'd be done after three songs but you didn't wait for him and just went your way. You even stopped by the local sex shop you and him frequented, giddy that it was still open. The salesperson, who knew you and Yuta, was even astounded at your purchase. He even wished you good luck and hoped that you'll recover. 

A chuckle escaped your lips. It's not you who needed those words. 

You took a quick shower when you reached home, thankful that you raced Yuta on arriving. You changed to the black leather lingerie that you brought from the store, complaining that it was too tight and uncomfortable while setting the handcuffs on the headboard of the bed. Instead of a rope, you wrapped his leather belt around your fist. 

Leather is just so uncomfortable, you wanted to give up already. 

The apartment doors opened followed by footsteps then your boyfriend's voice asking if you're home. You hurriedly closed the lights to enable the mood lighting Yuta had installed just for these spicy moments. You turned on the stereo to your sex playlist then winced in pain when your toe bumped against the foot of the bed. Before the door opened, you managed to lay in bed in a provocative position that emphasized your breasts. 

Yuta’s eyes were gliding on your whole outfit before raising an eyebrow at you, “What is this?” A smirk played against his lips as he put down the duffel bag and quickly removed his tank top while moving to where you are. “I thought you were mad.” 

That piqued your interest, mad about what? He was already on the foot of the bed, hand reaching out to you when you snapped on your senses. You were supposed to be in charge tonight, not the other way around. Hastily, you kneeled on the bed to stop him from touching you. A playful smile can be seen on his lips when your hands are placed on his shoulder. “Yeah, I am mad.” You claimed with a smirk, fingers trailing south of his naked torso. “And you deserve to be punished.” 

He raised an eyebrow before you changed your position by lightly pushing him to bed and you were kneeling on top of him. “Hands up,” You blew a heavy sigh, he’s still so far from the handcuffs. “Could you please move a little bit upward?” A small smile can be seen on his lips before obeying you. 

Your knees were on both his sides as you clicked the handcuffs you bought on both his wrists. A smile appeared on your lips, he looks so good in this position. “Is this my punishment, baby?” His eyes were dark as he stared at you. Now that he mentioned it, you don’t know what to do to him next. The only idea you had in mind was to wear that leather outfit and bind him to bed with handcuffs. How would you exactly dom him? What should you do right now? 

Sensing your hesitation, Yuta chuckled. “Ride my face.” Your eyes widened at the suggestion. He would always eat you out but you never did it with you on top. Isn’t it dangerous? What if you literally sit on his face? What if you accidentally kill him? He might have sensed your hesitation that he muttered in his frustrated tone, “Hurry up, love.” 

You bit your bottom lip at that. You were horny, evident was this set-up that you made. And to be honest, you wanted to do it. Sit on Yuta’s face. He looked so delectable lying there with his hands tied to the bed. But this is deep waters that you’re scared to approach. 

Why did you plan to do this in the first place? 

This isn’t you. You would rather be whimpering under Yuta. But you’re already here and he’s accepting your actions. It’s too late to back out now.

“Y/N, ride my face.” He claimed once again, making you squint your eyes at him. Why is he still commanding you as if he wasn’t the one tied on the bed right now? Why does he still seem so dominant when you were the one who should be dominating him? 

You pursed your lips, raising an eyebrow at him. You could tease him a bit. He’s tied in bed, he surely can’t do anything too much. “Beg for it.”  

A smirk appeared on Yuta’s lips as you started mounting the bed and then sitting on his thigh. “Stop teasing me.”

“I said beg, Yuta.”

“Ride my face or else.” 

He’s tied in bed. He cannot do anything. How adorable. “Or else what?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. 

In one swift move, you were lying on your back on your king-sized bed while Yuta hovered above you. His hand held your waist in place that made you wide-eyed. “You shouldn’t have bought low-class handcuffs, love.” You raised your head to see the chains of the handcuffs broken on the headboard of the bed. “And you shouldn’t have pulled this stunt, Y/N.” His eyes were predatory, scary. “Now, be a good girl and scream only for me. Understood?” 

Yuta unhooked your leather underwear, relief washed over you that the uncomfortable feeling was now gone. But you gripped on the sheets as he replaced the material with the warmth of his mouth. He was devouring you as if you were the first meal he had for days. He ravaged your pussy, licking your clit and then sucking on it before entering your folds. Your back arched in intense pleasure but he kept on holding you, as if not wanting you to squirm. “Yuta, I’m close.” You jerked your hip up. 

You could feel him smirking and then it was gone. Your eyes widened in surprise as if you were showered with cold water. “What the hell?” You watched him remove the broken handcuffs from his wrists while kneeling on the bed, eyes on you. That image alone could send you to your orgasm. But Yuta just had to be extra sexy by biting his bottom lip and pushing his hair away from his face. Your fingers rubbed your clit, crossing your legs together, as you moaned for his name while releasing liquid on the bed sheets. 

A chuckle can be heard then a sound of metal hitting the floor. “You just have to be a horny slut and orgasm without my go signal, don’t you?” You felt the bed dipped with his weight before his thumb pushed your clit. “Can’t wait for me to fuck you properly.” 

“Yuta, I need you. Please.” 

The side of his lips curved up. “On your back, love.” You gave him a confused look before he nodded, “That was a command.” You rolled on your side, stomach lying on the bed but Yuta was already placing a pillow by your abdomen. He unhooked your leather brassiere that made you breathe heavily. A chuckle can be heard followed by his wet lips trailing along your spine. “You are so hot like this,” He whispered. “Begging. Whimpering under me.”  

Yuta slithered his arm around your hip, pulling you closer before entering you from behind. The way he did it is so flawless that you didn’t even have time to moan. You ended up grasping the sheets while screaming on the pillow. You’ve done this before and you knew that this was one of Yuta’s favorite positions but the way he’s thrusting into you from a whole new angle made you a whimpering mess under him. 

Your boyfriend must be working out secretly. You’re almost always together but you have never seen him hit the gym or anything. The heaviest you knew he would carry was you or his electric guitar. So how did he manhandle you into this new position? You felt your body pulled up from the mattress, him sitting on the bed. A moan kept on leaving your lips while bouncing on Yuta’s cock. His hands grabbed both your breasts, kissing your shoulders as he jerked his hips up to meet your thrusts halfway. His heavy breathing can be heard against your ear, turning you on. 

If possible, he pulled you closer by the waist as he released with you. Whispers of your name as if he was chanting prayers tickled your neck. “God, Y/N,” he called then kissed your lips. “As expected, all I need is you. No one else.” You giggled. How crazy are those words? When you were well aware that he’s Yuta Nakamoto and millions of other girls would fight a war for him. “I’ll prepare the tub so we can clean up, hmm?” 

It was still amazing how he could carry your body as if some doll and laid you to bed. Watching him enter the bathroom, in his all-naked glory, you marveled at how thick his arms had been. Surely, he would be working out. He sat on the edge of the bed when he returned to the room and you reached out for his arms, “You’re getting obsessed with my arms.” 

“When did you start working out?” 

“I’m not.” You raised an eyebrow at that. “Fucking you is my workout.” You rolled your eyes at that. Is he being sarcastic right now? “The things I want to do when you roll your eyes like that.” You repeated the same action, sighing while rolling your eyes, to taunt him. Yuta giggled before hovering his body above you, raising both your arms and holding them in place to kiss you roughly. “The things I badly want to do to you while you wear that leather lingerie.” 

You lightly glanced at the dark leather scattered on the foot of the bed. “It’s uncomfortable.”      

“If you want to wear something like that so bad, I can just buy you one.”  

“But you don’t like it.” It was Yuta’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “I tried to dom you because those girls look so hot online but you’re not very cooperative.” 

A hearty laugh escaped his lips and you whined while hitting his chest. “Seeing you sprawled on the bed like that when I came home was hot and all, I even wanted to do your fantasy but you hesitated. You look so scared I thought you’d cry.” He even noticed that? “You’ll need a lot of practice though.” 

The side of your lips curled up at that suggestion. “Then, will you let me practice on you?” 

“Damn right. Do you have another person in mind?” You grinned, shaking your head. “I’ll even give you one-on-one lessons, love.” He kissed the valley between your breasts. “And if you were a good student,” He kissed your neck, trailing north to your ear before he whispered. “I’ll let you fuck me with a strap-on.” Your eyes sparkled at the idea. “You’re so transparent.” 

A laugh escaped your lips, muttering an apology. How could your boyfriend stir something hidden inside you? Maybe you’re not as submissive as you thought. 

“Ride me in the tub?”  

You nodded, reaching both arms for him. “Carry me.” 

Yuta squinted his eyes at you, shaking his head while laughing. “Such a baby.” He carried you bridal style as you grazed your forefinger on the protruding muscles of his arms. “If I knew you would get this obsessed with my arms, I would have hit the gym earlier.” 

Your eyes widened at that, lightly hitting him in betrayal. “You are working out!”