#but a writing prompt on my dash was powerful enough to tell me that No

[chocogi]

Your job as the reaper has taken you around the world, meeting souls of vastly different paths.

And here, in a bloody train station, underneath the earth, a man with a mohawk hisses at you with blood on his teeth and a hole at the side of his head.

"Ah'm not goin' anywhere," he hisses, "still got shite ta do. Ya ken?"

You rise elegantly from your staggered position. "I do. But like you, I have a job to attend to." Your scythe, forged from the belief of the people who believed in your existence, twists and fades to leave your hands free.

So many souls demanded one last fight. A chance to come back to the people they've gutted with loss.

He grits his teeth. "Got no pity fer a man like me, eh?"

You lock gazes with a dead man. "Johnny," you echo, "there is no running away from death."

All Johnny sees is a skull. He tenses when he blinks and the next thing he's facing is his lieutenant. The same lieutenant begging on his knees for him to wake up.

"Pity disnae fit in tha eyes of Death, ya ken?" He snarks, charging towards you.

You simply allow him to stab into you, dry bone cracking and snapping like fragile chalk under his force.

Bony hands wrap gently around Soap's neck, and Ghost is wrenched away harshly from a cold man's corpse.

[maisonaime]

The Star Who Listened [Azriel x Reader]

My little contribution to @starfallweek 2024 ✨

Prompt: Character A is a fallen star, Character B finds them

Note: Angst with a happy ending. This prompt immediately reminded me of this quote from a very beautiful but heart wrenching spoken word poem about the power of friendship and of friends who dream together. Happy Starfall Week!

“You kept a rock on a satin pillow on your bookshelf and told me ‘It’s a star.’ You said you found in a junkyard. And it had been broken down for quite some time because too many people wished on it, and that’s a lot of pressure for one little star.” Shane Koyczan and the Short Story Long, For Instance

There was no telling how long he had lain there. Long enough that the ground had given way to valleys and mountains, snow and grass, fire and rain. Long enough that the wind and the moon cooled his skin, warped from the burnout. Long enough that the bones that cracked on impact hardened in the same position they had come to rest. Long enough that he learned all of the parallels of nature.

First he learned the way the ground vibrates during an earthquake is almost indiscernible from the thundering of hooves and feet as armored men trample over him. His tears flow into the rivulets of blood from fallen warriors, which flow into the river that rages through the carrion. He wants to wash away with it.

Then he learned how the earth would split and crack and flow bright and hot, creeping across the ground like candlewax. It looks like his beautiful, ruined hands. He remembers the skin dripping off of bone when he could no longer hold the burning dreams they piled into his arms. So bright, and so beautiful, but so heavy.

Then he learned how the air would hang heavy before the sky cracks open. It reminds him of the weight that hung around his shoulders in the moments before he tumbled from the sky. Feels the despair, the failure in being unable to remain afloat. He waits for Hera’s wrath for his forsaking of Astraea.

Azriel could’ve recounted all the lessons he learned in all the hundreds of years he’d lain there. Could’ve stopped someone to tell his story, to beg pity or forgiveness, or simply for a listening ear. But how could he have proven his tale?

Who would believe that a small, rough-edged, unassuming rock was actually a fallen star?

How could he even begin to explain the thousands of dreams he had forsaken when he fell? He had seen some of those dreams dashed personally. Had seen the men whose safety had been prayed for fall screaming on their swords. Had seen a woman who wanted nothing more than a child bury seven silent born at the riverbed. Had seen the children who dreamed of their prince or princess and were instead sold into marriage beds with monsters and carted away from their homes.

So he could not move, he could not speak. He could only relive his failure and all the lessons he’d learned from it. Lessons he would never get to use. Lessons that meant nothing to anyone, because lessons don’t mean as much as dreams do.

Rocks don’t mean as much as stars.

But to you they do.

You, who look to the stars to guide you. But who also looks to the ground to see how far you have come. You who use rocks to mark the trail the stars take you along. You who collect the ones you find most beautiful, the ones that remind you of the stars.

You too have a gift for seeing the parallels in nature.

And yes, dreams are beautiful. But so are the lessons we learn when they do and don’t come true.

And so, this is how he finds himself in your pocket, after so many years in the dust. After so many years on the cold ground. The wool of your skirt is warm and soft, and it cushions Azriel’s hardened heart.

The next thing he knows he is resting on a satin pillow, high on a shelf in your room where he can watch over this strange savior. He watches day and night. Watches as you work and write and wander by day. Watches as you dream by night.

He wishes you had left him on the ground. He is stricken and terrified to be so close to another’s dreams, even as his very essence cries out to caress them. It is worse agony than he ever faced. At least before didn’t have to be so close to the humans who once depended on him.

He feels perverted because you haven’t even entrusted him with your dreams and here he is fantasizing about them. Prostrate before you trying to hold himself back, because he cannot warp your dreams with his horrible hands. Cannot bear the responsibility of ruining even one more dream. No matter how large or small.

He doesn’t even know why he is there. Why you plucked him out of his quiet obscurity and forced him to endure this proximity to such a vociferous dreamer. He loves and hates it in equal measure. Loves and hates you in equal measure.

And then the strangest thing happens one day. You are showing a friend around your room. And your friend points to him and laughs “Why do you have that rock on that pillow?” and Azriel would blush if he wasn’t a rock. But you smile knowingly and say “That’s not a rock, it’s a star I found. It fell from the sky when too many people piled their wishes onto it. Too much pressure for anything, don’t you think?” and the friend nods understandingly.

And Azriel glows. And Azriel cracks. Because he is awash with the forgiveness of a dreamer. And he remembers the child with eyes like yours but different, the first who looked up to him and wished. The one who made him want to take as many wishes as he could carry, and then take more after that.

And when the friend is gone, you reach up onto the shelf and bring down the satin pillow. You set it on your desk, and observe the crack that that splits your star down the middle. You gingerly separate the two halves, and behold the bright blue gemstone in the center.

You smile. “Do you think the weight of one person’s dreams is bearable? I promise to leave plenty of room for your own.”

Azriel glows as brightly as he once did in the sky.

[tokuvivor]

Thanks for the tag on this one, @shychick-52! (Update: And @writebackatya.)

how many fics do you have on ao3?

12.

what's your total ao3 word count?

69,172.

what are your top five fics by kudos?

The Power of Three

Bridging the Gap

We Could Bring You a Hamburger…

One Night Ultimate Duck (Or Hummingbird, or Parrot)

Duckverse June 2023 Prompts (yes, it’s a story collection, but it still counts)

what fandoms do you write for?

DuckTales 2017, mostly, a bit for Super Sentai, did one for the Netflix show Dash & Lily, and I have a couple ideas of fics relating to other shows.

do you respond to comments? why or why not?

Yes! Someone took time out of their day to read my stuff and leave their input on it, and the least I could do is show my appreciation for it in return, and elaborate on any questions they may have.

what's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Shit, I’m really not good with ending stories on a down note; I try to make the endings as satisfying as possible. But I’d say the closest thing to that is for my 6th Webby Week story, Am I Good Enough? (An Internal Battle). It’s basically just Webby wrestling over being chosen by the Papyrus in her mind. Even though it doesn’t end on an outright fairy tale note, she does recognize that it’s okay to not have something that big figured out immediately, and that it’s good to talk about it with other people if you have trouble processing it.

what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

That’s a tough one. There are probably certain stories I’ll discuss in later answers, so for this one, I’ll go with We Could Bring You a Hamburger…. I mean, it’s just a sweet, simple story about something that absolutely should’ve been shown in canon (Webby getting her first hamburger). It’s just a good, satisfying, slice of life kinda thing.

do you get hate on your fics?

Well, on the second chapter of The Power of Three, I got somebody telling me that Huey shouldn’t be guilty over going against his general Woodchuck instinct and leaving Violet behind, and that he should be jealous and upset with Violet and Lena for insulting him and making him feel miserable. Jesus.

do you write smut?

No. I honestly don’t think I’d be good at it. Especially regarding a show like DuckTales. If I were to, it’d probably be wayyyyy down the road.

do you write crossovers? what's the craziest one you've ever written?

Not actively; if I write something with multiple fandom tags on AO3, it’s mostly because minor elements of one thing are peppered into my DT story.

have you ever had a fic stolen?

No. Thank god.

have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but that’d be interesting.

have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Yes; I started working with @sisiwritesfanfics on her Super Sentai Couples One-Shot Collection beginning with the second story. We’re currently trying to work on the third.

what's your all time favorite ship?

I don’t know, probably Fendra? But I generally prefer fanworks of them more, especially when stories go more in-depth regarding their relationship than we got in canon. There are others in DuckTales, and other pieces of media, that I really enjoy, though.

what's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

At the moment, none. But there are a couple idea that I have that I don’t know if I’d ever start.

what are your writing strengths?

Dialogue, especially between two characters, and being able to really get into characters’ minds.

what are your writing weaknesses?

Writing full-on angst. I can incorporate bits of angst into stories, especially when it’s introspective, but a full story of it just wouldn’t be my thing (so, way longer than Am I Good Enough?). Also, losing motivation at certain points in time.

thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I’ve done bits of gratuitous Spanish or Latin in my stories before, but no full-on dialogue. But I did provide the translated Spanish dialogue between Fenton, Gosalyn, and Webby in @writebackatya’s story Let’s All Go to the Movies!.

first fandom you wrote for?

Technically speaking, I did a piece based on Wreck-It Ralph back in high school for my creative writing class. So that, I guess.

favorite fic you've ever written?

Massive toss-up for me here. The Power of Three is special because it was my first fic, and it focuses on the budding dynamic between Huey, Violet, and Boyd, which absolutely should have been explored in the show. But my other major early idea for a DuckTales story turned into Bridging the Gap. Gandra isn’t written nearly as often alongside Huey, and we only really got a resolution of her relationship with Fenton (amongst main and major recurring characters) in the show, so I wanted to build on the pieces we got between Gandra and Huey in her episodes, which culminated in what I still think is my absolute favorite scene I’ve written. I think the overall edge goes to Power, but Bridging isn’t far behind in my heart.

Tagging @godfrey-the-chaos-duck and @sparklingspidey

[ruinakete]

☽ ・ 𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐋 & 𝐏𝐑𝐄-𝐌𝐀𝐘 𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 / 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 ━━━ ooc post.

hello everybody! with my formal return to the dash sent to the masterlist, I thought it only necessary to make a post regarding my muses; interpretations, changes, mission board prompts, etcetera. we'll tackle only one of these as of right now since I'm already late on the mission board—

LONG STORY SHORT? recent events have made me unsure of myself and, unfortunately, I can tell that those insecurities are bleeding into my portrayals now. I apologize if my writing seems weaker than before because of this; it's something I simply have to work through to get fully comfortable again.

—simply know for the other listed points that, after threads are cut down for one muse, a cap of five per character will be set for all and a schedule will be implemented properly next week, as I've been slacking with reply times.

as always, I'm never the one to step first when it comes to thread statuses, so if you'd like a thread dropped, please let me know! no hard feelings! otherwise, I'll continue under the assumption that all interactions are a-go. concerning the mission board, feel free to claim a thread via DMs on Discord ( @ barelyelix ), since I do not check for Tumblr IMs and I sometimes overlook server pings. down below are the prompts I'm looking for, though my interest may exceed these:

━━━ MISSION BOARD: SHOWCASE !

ZEPHIA? @ here

none, as her character is the one I am now most unfamiliar with. not open for any new non-event threads until mid-May.

EREMIYA? @motheruin

FAITH +1: the specifics of this idea need to be fleshed out more but I am interested in exploring Eremiya's fear of fire and how it subconsciously ties into religious ideals and the life of magic. whether or not they save a maiden, her main intention is to selfishly steal the spell's makings for herself, despite it just being shown off for this occasion and nothing more. (GOLDEN DEER REQUIRED)

BOOMS: of course, Eremiya will do everything in her power to report the group; they're more than a disturbance, they're taunting. however, she'll begrudgingly require a partner who is like-minded as she, since the sudden bursts of fire in the air are hardly... tame, and productivity will not prosper if she remains uneasy with every passing image of a spiraling rocket. or you can be a BOOMS enthusiast stopping her before she snitches.

otherwise, she will only be open to pick up one new non-event thread come May.

EMMERYN? @emblemartyr

HEAVY ARMOR +1: has anyone ever sat a pirate down and asked them how they felt? no? alright then, Emmeryn's interested in serving as a more, pacifist diplomat between the Leicester Alliance and the pirates. no one acts so recklessly without a reason, right? has a grievance between the two parties caused the rift? besides, the fortified sea vessels will keep her, her partner, and the crew safe. hopefully. long enough to enjoy the ride, at least! (GOLDEN DEER REQUIRED)

FAITH +1: something something persecution... religious corruption.... something something fire and sacrifice.... insert sun metaphor..... curiosity equaling bravery and the opposite....... me and Emmeryn want the skill point, further plotting necessary (GOLDEN DEER REQUIRED)

PHOTO-ARTIFEX: a way to keep memories trapped within an image? perfect! Emmeryn's all too happy to volunteer herself for testing! she doesn't mind who wishes to help either since she mainly wants to see how well the machine works, and if she can satisfy the gaps in her memory by creating new, frozen-in-time moments she can never forget. also not against swaying volunteers who only want to help technical-wise and not have their pictures taken.

SWORD +1: half for the point and half because I am absolutely enamored by the return of the silly rat orchestra MSKMWNSDJ it's highly possible that Emmeryn was dragged into this, as her place in the town may have been too far from the monastery to notice students going missing; plus, she doesn't fit the criteria of victims, per se! of course, her first idea is speaking to the culprit, so your muse may have to be bait unless they mistake Emmeryn for a student. she won't let anything happen to you so no worries! worst case scenario, the culprit can't understand the common tongue and we have to play instruments to communicate.

always open for threads, as of now! necessary to bounce her voice testing off of someone else, whether mission board or otherwise.

[stealingyourbones]

DP + JLU crossover prompt: I wanna see Flash as Danny's mentor, so--

Danny has survived (Sorta?) 2 years as a ghost without being discovered. Until their field trip to Central City. First day there and immediately Flash catches him phasing out of some locked container (Thank you, Dash). Danny thinks he's screwed, "Hello GIW, dissection tables, and ecto-uranium cages for the rest of my life", but Flash just asks "Meta?" and Danny rolls with the out, figuring he can just let the hero believe he has some sort of intangibility ability and not get caught doing anything else for the week. The League hero even asks if he's out about his ability and helps him with a cover story for where he was when Mr. Lancer asks.

Cue Danny getting a surprise mentor. Turns out, it's something of an open secret that Flash likes to help out young metas with their abilities. He's willing and able to set things up so he can visit Danny in Amity Park regularly, so Danny doesn't have to move. He's got a ton of experience helping kids feel out different abilities safely (and Danny's almost a little disappointed he only told the guy about intangibility because he wishes he could get this level of guidance on other abilities. Like duplication. Or teleporting.). And he's not afraid of acting as a go between for kids who want to keep their identities secret while learning their abilities and other heroes with similar powersets, either.

Flash is aware there is a lot more to Danny's powers than he's been told, but he's willing to let the kid come to him with the full story in his own time.

ooooooooo alrighty okokokokok. sO.

this brings me so much seritonin I love Flash x DP crossovers, I simply haven't read much stuff on Barry since the guy since he was dead for like a solid 25 years irl time for comics. It's a good thing that I can write this since Justice League Unlimited Flash is Wally West. Barry straight up just doesn't exist in JLU and sO:

Wally damn well knew the kid had something else going on. He's not sure exactly what but he's seen enough to know that this kid is more powerful than he's making himself out to be.

He's spotted Danny's foot almost on reflex turn invisible when his hands slipped and he dropped a knife on the ground. The knife clattered to the floor harmlessly and Danny was fine. The flickering of his lower limbs was for less than a second. Flash can think as fast as 100 attoseconds in one second. That's what a second is to 300 million years. He may not be able to perceive just as fast but it's still far far quicker than any meta he's ever known. He watches the boy for what seems to be days but to Danny it's quick as a flash, how he realizes that he's invisible and hastily flickers back to reality. No one should have spotted it, but Flash saw. He knew. He kept it to himself. It was not his secret to tell.

Danny thinks he's subtle. He might be for the average human, but not to fellow Supers. Danny's drinks are somehow always perfectly chilled even when its been sitting in the sun for hours. The kid's nightmares cause him to yell in his sleep. Wally had to ask Batman for some custom glassware made out of the same stuff the Batmobile's windows are made of cause the kid keeps shattering every new set he buys.

The other day Danny showed Wally that he could turn invisible. On his own terms. Wally acted as if the dozens of times he's seen Danny blip out of existence never happened and accepted the new development with ease. He knew he gained even more of Danny's trust when the young meta laughed and for the first time didn't worry about hiding his sharp canines from his sight.

Progress is slow going but eventually he'll get this boy to open up so he can get the proper help he needs.

[imagines-by-cleo]

Heeeey! Wassup?

Okay, I just realized that you write a certain blue-eyed commander so perfectly, and I'm really in love with your writing!

May I request modern daddy Erwin spoiling y/n with everything 😭❤️

I pray you feedth my soul O great writer fella, cuz damn I'm very hungry 🙏🏻 and having a writer block 😭

And thank you 😊

Awwww, thank you so much! I'm always happy to write about our boy.

I just went dress shopping the other day and while I was getting fitted I kept thinking about how much I wished I had a large blonde man telling me how pretty I look and that's partly what inspired this fic

CW: SMUT, power dynamics, dirty talk, clothed sex, mirror sex, daddy kink, oral sex (male receiving)

What started as Erwin meeting you for a quick lunch turned into him taking the rest of the day off so he could parade you around the mall and spoil you with every little thing you happened to show interest in. It wasn't the first time he had done this, ever since you met he would refuse to let you pay for a single thing and pour his money into jewelry, gourmet dinners and surprise weekend trips. If he didn't spend every second convincing you that you were worth it you would have felt terrible for taking advantage of him.

Stepping out of the fitting room you found the waiting area to be completely empty, in a panic you looked around the luxurious store hoping to find the man who was supposedly paying for the dress you were currently wearing. Right as you were considering slinking back in to change into your street clothes and dash out he strutted around the corner carrying all the bags from other stores you had visited, though you could swear there was one you didn't recognize.

"Look at you." He remarked with eyes wide, hypnotized by your outfit.

"Do you like it? I picked the green one just for you." You sang, spinning around.

Erwin looked like a moth staring down a lamp, satin catching the light to give the skirt a mesmerizing emerald glow as you twirled.

"It's perfect." He replied. "Is that that all you're getting?"

"Yeah, I think we pretty much bought out the mall by now." You answered, still swishing your skirt.

"Well then, that should be enough to have you put on a fashion show for me at home." He commented with a knowing smile.

You giggled at the thought of it, practically skipping into the dressing room so you could change clothes, check out and go back to his apartment as soon as possible. Like always he he wouldn't let you carry a single bag, holding all of them in one arm so he could hold your hand with the other while the two of you walked to the parking lot. He even opened the car door for you before putting your things in the trunk, his hand rested comfortably your upper thigh never leaving for the entire drive to his apartment. His building was so intimidating, the high security mixed with the high end interior design was more lavish than anything you had ever seen making the walk to the elevator feel more like a museum tour.

"Go put on that little green dress for me." He told you as soon as he unlocked the door.

"Okay." You answered, standing on your tiptoes prompting him to kiss you before before you pranced off to the bedroom.

The smooth cool fabric slid onto your body so easily, the satin reflecting a new light from the large windows making it shimmer as you watched it in the mirror. From this angle you noticed just how much skin the dress left exposed, by the way Erwin looked at you when you walked in he noticed it too.

"You don't think this dress is too tight do you?" You inquired. "It squeezes a little at the top and I don't know if it's supposed to fit like that."

"I think it looks perfect." He answered, seating himself on the edge of the bed.

"Okay but, are you gonna think that when we go to a party and everyone is staring at my tits?" You remarked jokingly.

He laughed, beckoning you to walk over to him.

"Let's see how good you look in daddy's lap before we think about that." He crooned, pulling you down to sit on his knee.

With his arms around your waist he pointed you toward the mirror, palms caressing the smooth fabric that fit snugly to your body. You felt like such a princess perched on his lap while he gently kissed your neck, melting into the warm touch of his lips until they were joined by something colder. The ornate necklace he he had just slipped on matched the emerald green fabric like they were made for each other.

"This is the necklace we saw the other day!" You gasped.

"I went back and bought it just for you." He said, brushing your hair away from your neck to see it better.

"But it had to be so expensive, I can't let you keep spending this much on me." You stated, turning to face him.

"In that case I can think of a way you can pay me back." He replied, putting his thumb under your chin turning your head to kiss you.

Fingers slid gently up your leg lifting the skirt revealing your dark lace lingerie in front of the mirror, another gift from an earlier shopping spree. He spread your legs apart so they framed his own, Erwin's strength allowing him to easily adjust your hips to rest comfortably on his lap.

A single precise digit slid your panties aside, cool air touching your most sensitive parts making them ache for attention. Slowly circling your clit over and over before tracing your folds, his he coaxed another breathy moan from deep in your chest. Dipping in to check your wetness before sliding in deep as his middle finger could reach, it curled into your walls making you jerk your hips into his hand. After adding another you felt deliciously stretched around his thick digits, it was almost a shame you had to stop.

"Hang on, I'm supposed to be paying you back, remember?." You interrupted.

He looked slightly surprised for a moment before a devious smile grew on his face, he slid his fingers out of you leaving you to clench around nothing and popped them into his mouth.

"By all means." Erwin whispered, breath hot in your ear. "Earn that necklace of yours."

Desperate to fill the sudden emptiness as soon as possible you leaned forward supporting yourself with your hands on his knees, in an incredible feat of acrobatics you reached between your legs and managed to unzip his pants. With his incresingly hard cock free you gave it a few preemptive strokes catching drops of precum on your fingers, you made eye contact with Erwin in the mirror watching him watch you with half lidded eyes as you licked your fingers clean.

Once again balancing yourself by gripping his knees you angled your hips to lower down on his cock, the refection catching the shared ecstasy on your faces as you took it all the way to the base. Getting easily lost in the sensation of taking him at this foreign angle, you tried your best to resist rolling your hips too fast and simply riding him until you couldn't remember your own name. Erwin noticed your struggle judging by the devilish smile on his face paird with hungry look in his eye as he ate up the vision in the mirror, you couldn't tell who was more desperate out the two of you.

"Why don't you move a little faster, princess?" He groaned, as you immediately complied to his demand. "That's it, there's my good girl."

"Anything you want, daddy." You moaned out, bouncing rapidly.

He lifted your dress higher as you continued, putting your dripping pussy on display in the mirror as it slid over his cock again and again.

"See how dirty you look." He remarked, thrusting upward throwing you off rhythm. "You're making such a pretty little mess."

With one hand you held your hip and your skirt, the other between your legs to tease your clit while you continued riding. Using his voice in a way that he knew would drive you crazy and matching every movement of your hips, he knew all to well what he was doing to your head.

"Who's pussy is this?" He growled, rubbing you faster sending you into delirium.

"It's all yours daddy!" You shouted, mind reeling. "Fuck me like it's yours!"

With that Erwin proceeded to drive deeper with every jerk of his hips, manually lifting and slamming your body down like you weighed nothing. Practically screaming for him, your cries only serving to cheer him on while he thusted up into you splitting you in half over his lap. Feeling that tightness in your stomach coil faster than you had the chance to warn him you clenched hard around his cock, nearly taking him with you as you reached your mind numbing orgasm. Legs went numb as your body continued being used, tits bouncing making your necklace jingle along, mouth hanging open as you gasped for breath.

In a moment of partial clarity that followed as your thighs finished twitching you realized how close he was getting, his eyes squeezed shut as he grunted like and animal with every thrust. He had let go of your skirt at this point, completely drunk on your pussy not caring if he ruined your expensive new outfit by letting his cum run down your legs

"Wait stop." You reluctantly interrupted.

He paused immediately, releasing his grip on you and groaning while you hopped off his lap. You quickly dropped to your knees while his painfully hard cock twitched in anticipation, you watched him throw his head back in relief when you finally took him into your mouth. The taste of your own juices hit your tongue as you took his length as deep as you could into your throat, the thickness threatening to make you gag as you bobbed your head as fast as you could. You could feel him throbbing against your tongue when he came, the bitter salty taste filling your mouth and overflowing past your lips. You pulled his cock out of your mouth, still pumping it while you struggled to swallow.

Erwin looked down at you, clouded eyes filled with wonder as you caught the cum running down your chin before it dripped on the dress. You stood on shaking legs still trying to clean your face, he wrapped an arm around your waist pulling you close before swiping his thumb over your bottom lip and kissing you passionately.

"Stay here with me tonight." He demanded, looking deep into your eyes.

"I don't have any clothes here." You reminded him while pushing golden hair out of his face.

"I just bought you some." He replied, moving down to kiss your neck.

"I don't have any underwear though." You giggled, his lips tickling your skin.

"You don't need any." He stated, his hands sliding back up your skirt. "And as far as I'm concerned, you still haven't worked off your debt."

"Oh? What else can I do for you daddy?" You asked, knowing exactly how much trouble you were getting into.

"Get out of that dress unless you want me to ruin it." He ordered, with that dark look in his eye that you loved so much. "But under no circumstances are you allowed to take off the necklace tonight."

[bukojuiice]

are you feline what i’m feline? — todoroki shoto

ೃ pairing: cat boy! ┃pro hero! todoroki shoto  x fem pro hero! reader

ೃ  tags: smut 18+ (the rest of the tags are below the cut!)

ೃ  warnings: nsfw

ೃ wc: 3k words

ೃ  my nav  →  my mha writing masterlist  → my katsuki bakugo x reader smau

ೃ  blessed with a quirk that can temporarily transform any human being into any living thing they want through the means of potions and concoctions, you brew up a cat girl potion to surprise shoto for your second year anniversary. however, some accidents and mishaps happen, and you’re welcomed home by a handsome cat boy instead.  

ೃ dedicating this fic to the lovely and amazing @todosweetheart​ bc her cat boy! shoto art is the reason why this fic exists. thank u for the content u feed us val! 🥰💓

additional tags:  use of natural aphrodisiac, cat boy! kink, overstimulation, fingering, kitten/cat play, rough but loving sex)

You had just recently moved in to a new neighborhood with your boyfriend, Todoroki Shoto. 

Your blissful domestic life with him was just about to begin and life couldn’t get any better than this. and yet... 

sometimes you wish you could do more for him. 

The two of you met when you were hired to work at his father’s agency, stealing glances at him by the reception area whenever you came in for work, and coincidentally getting into the same elevator as him. Not knowing that he was woefully smitten with you too. It was only through the probing of your co-workers that you had drunkenly confessed to him at a company party and he had (soberly) confessed to you too.

That was where everything started. 

That was how you and the No. #3 Pro-hero got together.

Sometimes, it made you think if you were even worthy of his love. 

You were just a hero with a support quirk; with it being used for more science and field-related work as your powers made you manifest and create drinkable liquids that could change the physical appearance of a person (make them invisible, turn them into an animal, or even turn them back into a child or into an elderly person) for a limited time and depending on how strong or weak the solution. This means that through your quirk, you are able to tamper with a person’s DNA through these concoctions without any consequences. It was a powerful quirk, just like magic, yes, but can it be used for offense? Sadly not.

Shoto’s quirk was the exact opposite. Bearing the quirk of fire and ice, he was the definition of perfection. The perfect quirk, the perfect combination of two exact opposite elements, and how adept he is at using both of them. Often praised and hailed by the public for not only being extremely powerful, but also for how painstakingly handsome he is. You were just waiting for some controversial tabloid to talk about the No. 3 Pro Hero and his girlfriend who was way out of his league. 

Shoto constantly reassures you not to worry about them, never failing to calm you down with his gentle I love you’s and forehead kisses whenever he sees you tensed up and nervous, and never failing to tell you that you are the light of his life and his strength to continue fighting. and yet, it still worries you sometimes.

Today marks your 2 year anniversary. 

The two of you decide to go out on a simple date tonight at one of the best-reviewed restaurants in the neighborhood as the two of you were busy with throwing out the moving boxes and unwrapping your furniture, combined with the hero work that the two of you do during the day. Completely ruling out the possibility of being able to plan an elaborate anniversary date. 

But, it was alright. As cheesy as Shoto makes it sound, no day can ever become the worst, as long as he’s spending it with you. 

“Ah~ Those crepes were super yummy! Plus, the cafe was really cute!” You beam with a satisfying yawn, the two of you walking side by side, hand holding the other, and his arm wrapped around your shoulder for that extra warmth against the cold summer night. 

“Yea. There was a classy vibe to it. That was my first time trying a galette, and I must say that was tasty.” He remarks, turning to you. Your radiant and lively energy was infectious and he can’t help but smile. “Leave it to Mina and Sato to know all the best restaurants, I suppose.”

You nod contentedly and the two of you continue to walk back home in silence. Shoto looks around, taking in the sight and wondering if he could point out any small details about your surroundings that could make you laugh or smile. He notices a small shadow perk up from beneath a bush and he casually points at it. “Hmm? (Y/N), look over there.” 

You follow Shoto’s gaze and also notice the small shadowy figure. “Oh?”

The quiet sound of a purr could be heard from the bush. The two of you wait a little bit for the creature to reveal itself. A black cat pounces out of the plant, it’s beautiful green eyes staring back at you. “Meoooow.”

The cat walks up to you and you crouch down, putting your hand out, and wait patiently. Sure enough, the cat nuzzles against it. 

“Ahhh she’s so cute.” You observe the cat a bit more and notice it’s femme feline features. Shoto crouches down next to you and pats it’s head. Clearly the kitty seems to enjoy all this attention as she’s purring up a storm. “She is.” 

You glance at Shoto and notice how his eyes glimmered a different blue-grey light as he continued to play with the kitten. Pure bliss present in his face. His handsome and soft features make you blush, with the heat rising up to your cheeks, you quickly turn away before Shoto could notice you.

Bingo.

What if you turned into a Cat Girl and made Shoto… ya know…

It was a simple formula after all. You could whip up a concoction, sprinkle in a little bit of natural aphrodisiac and that’s it! The recipe to the sexiest and kinkiest night of your life! Maybe you could show your love to Shoto in a different way than most girlfriends do to their boyfriends no?

“AHAH!” You suddenly jump up from the ground, your boyfriend perks up a little bit in surprise too. You then bring out your phone and begin scrolling through your notes. “Sho-kun! Come on! Let’s get home!” You grab his hand and drag him away. He adjusts his running to your pace, smiling at your sudden burst of eagerness and excitement. “Alright alright, love. Be careful so we don’t trip.”

That night, you told Shoto to not wait for you as you had to brew up some potions for tomorrow as specially requested by a hero from your agency. Although reluctant at first to leave you, he intently watched you work your magic at  the little science lab in your house. The smell of the strong chemicals waft around the living room, prompting him to retreat back to your bedroom, but not without a quick kiss (that was about to turn into a make out session) before bed. 

“Happy anniversary, Love.” Shoto holds you by the waist, resting his head on your shoulder. The two of you swaying slightly to the non-existent rhythm and this makes you almost want to go to bed with him. “Shall we continue this tomorrow?” He peppers kisses down your neck, you giggle in response. 

“We shall.” You turn to him and deliver a kiss to his lips. You pull away before you could even begin to think of yearning for more. “I’m sorry if we had to cut our anniversary short. It’s your day off tomorrow right? I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

He nods first before giving you one last kiss, this time on the forehead. “Goodnight (Y/N). I love you.” 

“I love you too.” He pulls away. you watch him leave your lab first and make sure he’s out of sight before you get back to work. 

After a few more hours of solving the formula and crafting the recipe for a potion that doesn’t necessarily turn you into a cat, but rather, give you only cat ears and a cat tail, yu bring out a thermos bottle from the cupboard and pour in the liquid solvent along with the natural aphrodisiac. You stir it a little bit before using your quirk to add the finishing touch and to make it a viable and an actually working potion. 

“Can’t wait to drink this tomorrow.” You snicker to yourself, as you pour all of the liquid onto the thermos, storing it in the fridge and then proceed to go to your bedroom and finally hit the sack.

“AHH I’M LATE!” You rush out of the bedroom, messy bedhead hair, your hero suit not even fully zipped up, mismatched socks, and your bag tossing and turning, most of the contents falling out, your thermos being one of them. “I’M LATE FOR WORK! BYE! I LOVE YOU!” You greet Shoto who was eating his breakfast in the kitchen, planting him a farewell kiss on the cheek as you dash your way out of the house. 

“I l-love you too.” He bids goodbye with a wave, but you weren’t even there to hear it anymore. Shoto’s eyes cast downward, a bit disappointed that he wasn’t even able to greet you properly this morning and how your anniversary date felt so short even though you promised each other you would spend more time together later today. 

He then notices your water bottle on the ground. A sticky note that was labeled “Drink me!” was attached to it and of course as every other person would react once they see a note like that,

Shoto thought that was for him. 

“SHO! I’M BACK!” You call out to him, closing the door behind you. “Sho~?” You sing-song, peering through the kitchen and the living room but your boyfriend was nowhere to be seen. “Where are youuu?” You continue to traverse through your house, looking for him. You grind to a halt when you notice your thermos bottle on top of the dining table… All empty.

Oh no.

Oh no no no no.

“Shoto!” You call out, your voice cracking with nervousness. You rush to your bedroom, hoping and praying that he was there. Only… for the lights to be out. 

“Sho?” Your hand reaches out for the light switch. But, you hesitate. What if a demon had kidnapped your boyfriend and you had to save him!? What can your quirk even do to save him!?

“(Y/N)...” He finally responds. Although his tone was soft and still a bit suspicious, you breathe a sigh of a relief and finally turn on the lights.

The lights illuminate the room to reveal your boyfriend in his usual turtleneck fit that you always ogle at. You look up and down, noticing that this is still the same man you know and love and nothing bad actually happened until… 

You look up and behind him.

He’s still the same man you know and love. 

Just this time however. he’s a cat boy. 

“I drank the potion that you made.” He says ever so casually, nothing ever fazes him as usual. “It had a “drink me!” sticky note attached to it and I thought it was for me.” He continues to speak plainly. You thought you could get out of this situation scotch-free and you didn’t have to explain to your loving boyfriend what had happened to him. That was until he crossed his arms, his feet tapping the ground, and his cat tail waving behind him. “Please explain to me why I am now a cat boy.” 

“Well…” You began twiddling with your fingers, trying your very best not to make eye contact with him or else you would end up squealing in delight because of how adorable he looked. “You see, I made this potion to turn me into a cat girl so that I can… ya know… please you and stuff. I saw how affectionate you were with the cat we saw last night so.. I guess you can consider this as my late anniversary gift to you?” You laugh sheepishly, still trying your best not to look at him as his gaze intensifies. 

Shoto’s black and white cat ears twitch as he tries to stifle a laugh. “Fine. I forgive you. This will wear off eventually right?” You nod in response and Shoto’s shoulders slump down in relief. He was about to approach you and envelop you in a hug, until his legs wobbled midway and he practically fell down onto the floor. 

You rush to him and help him stand up, propping himself on the bed. “Sho… are you alright love?”

He starts breathing heavily, cat ears twitching once again, fingers trembling, lips quivering, and his face as red as a tomato. “(Y/N)... what was even in that potion you made?”

You suddenly remember the aphrodisiac you added to the recipe.

Oh no no no no (2)

Shoto suddenly turns away from you before you could notice the bulge rising in his pants. He covers his face in embarrassment, refusing to look at you. 

“I also added some aphrodisiac and some catnip into the potion ahahaha…” You scratch the back of your neck. Shoto turns to you again, his eyes glowing like that of a cat and giving off a smoldering feeling. He shifts your position, gently yet somehow arduously pinning you down on the bed. He steps closer, hands moving up your sides, going around your back, pulling you flush against him. Shoto nips at your earlobe, sending sparks through you. 

You bite back a moan as he kisses your neck, his tongue hot, the gentle scrape of his teeth (slightly sharped like that of fangs) leaving you shivering. 

The two of you stop for a bit. He breaks the kiss to rest his forehead against yours. Tension coils around him, barely contained energy. As if Shoto is preventing himself from showing you his animalistic and feline hunger wanting to ravage you.

“C-can I-”

Before Shoto could even utter another word, you grab his face and pull him back into a desperate kiss, capturing his gasp and the throaty moan that follows. You capture his mouth with yours, and he responds eagerly, his kiss fervent, all his restraint crumbling at your touch. 

He kisses your chin, and you tip your head back as he trails his lips down your neck, murmuring praise.

He lays you down, hiking your shirt up, tossing it to the floor, then deftly unhooking your bra, and exposing your breasts. You giggle and reach for his pants, unzipping the fly and getting a little thrill when you see the huge bulge in his boxers. 

You push up his turtleneck sweater to admire his abs and Shoto smiles back at you seductively. 

“Like what you see?” He says teasingly, a little quip that he barely does when the two of you make love, his husky voice makes your stomach swoop.

“I can only tell you if you purr first.” You tease back, running your fingers over his cat ears. Shoto  feels the tickling sensation build up inside of him, slowly about to give in to his raw animal instincts. While you continue to run your fingers through his cat features, he begins to suck and nibble on your breasts. You feel yourself get lost in his gentle caress, barely even notice him pulling off your panties and sliding them off between your legs. Shoto’s fingers slowly slide into your womanhood, as if testing out the waters. He works them in and out for a bit, then pulls them out, brings them to his mouth, and licks them. 

Like a kitten licking its milk. 

“Sho…”

You feel the last of Shoto’s restraint break as his cat ears twitch again, you can practically feel the energy crackling around him, and the hunger in his eyes more evident than a while ago. Shoto then braces his arms beside your head, as he slots his hips between your thighs. You rise up to meet him, a low moan spilling from your lips. 

“(Y/N)... I’m going to put it in now…”

You bite your lip and nod in confirmation. 

Shoto gently sets a slow pace, your head spins at the sensation and the arousal coursing through you, your hips rolling to meet the movements of his cock. As he enters, the thrilling sensation courses through you again and your mind feels like it just melted. 

You gently rub his cat ears again, and his cock twitches inside of you, the enthralling reaction resulting in a shudder of pleasure shooting through your body, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. And that pleasure transmits to Shoto loud and clear from your pussy. 

Meanwhile, his breathing was ragged, more wild and animalistic than normal. Which is to be expected due to the potion but… this hot and intense feeling radiating off of him was different. 

And you love it.

“I-I feel like I’m losing control…”

As Shoto speaks, he slams his cock into you, making your legs shake and you moaning louder than you should. Everything seems more intense, from his thrusting to the look on his eye. 

At this point, it’s getting harder and harder to form a coherent sentence. 

“Is it alright if I go faster?” Shoto says softly, you hold his hand in reassurance, unable to respond properly as every intense emotion running inside of you makes you let out hitched and breathy moans instead. 

Shoto pulls out halfway, then slams back inside of you, making a loud sticky sound.

The two of you were acting like animals in heat. 

“A-ah! Shoto!” You mewl out, each of Shoto’s thrust hitting an undiscovered part of your insides. Spurred on by your voice, his pace further increases, until you’re both moving frantically. You gasp at his intensity, at the weight and heat of his body pinning you down.

“(Y/N)! I’m going to-” 

You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him on, and his fluffy tail briefly brushes against you. Shoto’s body tenses up as he prepares to unload inside of you.

Shoto’s body spasms- including his tail. Waves of pleasure flood over you as his semen shoots full-force into your depths.

The two of you gaze into each other’s eyes for a minute before he slowly lays himself next to you, his feline features slowly disappearing as you try to catch your breath.

“L-look they disappeared with one whoosh.” You say in between pants and giggles, Shoto covering the two of you with your bed duvet, chuckling along with you/

“Next time, please label things properly and tell me if you added any sort of ingredient that could increasingly highten my sex drive.” He says with an exasperated sigh, yet satisfaction plastered all over his face as he looks at you lovingly. “I love you (Y/N). Happy anniversary… nya~” He whispers the last few words, shooting you a wink. 

Your eyes widen, your mouth forming into an O like that one Chris Pratt meme. “Y-you just said…”

“Let’s h-have a nap and just have some late dinner instead.” He shushes you by planting a kiss on your forehead. 

You were about to protest, but as soon as Shoto shut his eyes, you didn’t bother doing so anymore.

You plant a kiss on his knuckles, snuggling closer to him. “I love you too Sho. Happy anniversary.”

[chironshorseass]

hello yes i’m OBSESSED with your writing so if you’re still taking prompts maybe “please look at me” bc i also have an unhealthy relationship with pre-tlo percabeth angst and live for pining percy

SYD U GAVE ME THIS AND I JUST HAD TO PUT ALL MY PROMPTS ASIDE!!! because how could i not!!!

for what i wrote, i kind of mention this clarisse one-shot.

anyway enjoy <3, since I sort of went crazy with percy being powerful :) like i always do :) and of course, pre-tlo percabeth :)

read on ao3

The waves had grown restless these past few days. Violent, brutal. The night was quiet, the moon hidden beneath darkened clouds, drenching the camp in heavy ink. Percy knew many demigods proclaimed it as the quiet before the storm. They couldn’t have been more wrong.

All he heard was noise.

He’d been like this—unsteady, overwhelmed—for some time, now. Everywhere he went, he felt like a ship sailing into giant waves, water crashing against his deck, threatening to bring him under.

Grover would’ve understood, maybe. But Grover, like the moon, had vanished. That only left a few of his other friends—and of course—Annabeth.

Percy couldn’t avoid her gaze, no matter how much he wanted to. She was always there, watching. Maybe she awaited the day when he’d sink to the power of those waves that plagued the beach, that plagued him. Maybe she anticipated with bated breath on the day when he’d turn sixteen and he’d have to make one decision that would change everything.

Nevertheless, she’d drift away from him. Then come back, again and again.

It drove him crazy, how much their relationship had changed with the times and circumstances. Only now, Annabeth wasn’t what bothered him.

His gut was.

It tightened and loosened, the same way the currents flowed to the rhythm of his rushing blood. He could hear that now, too.

His blood. The sea. The clashes against rock.

Everything was beating to a powerful symphony of drums.

But worst of all was his gut.

Something had gone terribly wrong.

Percy knew there was a war. He had nightmares about it, in fact. Nightmares leading to frantic waking-ups from the feeling of lava burning into his skin. But he hadn’t sensed the war’s presence so strongly in all his three years of attending camp as he did now—and he felt it, because the source of conflict had to do with the sea.

The shadows of cabin three clung to his skin in a comfortable blanket, but he couldn’t ignore this dread. It had trickled patiently into his system for a week now, culminating to this exact moment. He couldn’t sit still. He had to leave. Now.

Not long after stumbling outside while shoving his armor on did he hear the conch horn ringing as a warning. The lookouts had seen something. His legs moved faster.

Doors of other cabins began to smash open, and with it came the spilling of panicked campers. He was already way ahead of them, though.

“To the beach!” someone cried.

Percy arrived just in time to see Chiron assemble with Michael Yew and Austin Lake. The sons of Apollo. They’d apparently been the ones on night duty. The centaur saw Percy before the others made out his heavy footfalls.

“Percy,” Chiron said. “Thank the gods you’re here.”

“There’s something,” he gasped, doubling over once he’d reached them. “There’s something out there,” he finally managed to say, gulping mouthfuls of air. “The sea.”

They already knew, however. The conchorns were signal enough. But what was more obvious was the glimpse of the giant tail, jutting out of the water like a spear cutting through flesh.

The breath he’d managed to find from his mad dash was stolen away at the sight of the monster.

“Yeah,” Austin said, swallowing. “There’s something out there, alright.”

Chiron eyed Percy warily. “My boy. We are dealing here with something I fear that you are only capable of stopping.”

“Yeah, well...it looks like a pretty big fish. I—”

A howl punctured the atmosphere—probably the same sea monster he’d seen earlier. Percy gasped, feeling a stabbing jolt in his stomach. He didn’t know why this sudden change of the sea was affecting him so, but he had to stay strong. So he stood up straight and concentrated on his breathing.

“Are you alright?” Austin asked, studying him.

Percy looked at Chiron, who met his eyes as well. You have to be, his teacher seemed to say.

“I...I think so.”

Michael chose the moment to turn his back on the sea, blowing the conchorn once more. He shouted at the incoming campers, “Greek fire! We need Greek fire!”

The rest of the multitude showed up right away, Hephaestus kids priming canons while others exchanged weaponry. Through all of it, Percy’s gut became a pressure cooker, a fist closing around glass, about to break. He cried out in agony just as a tidal wave shook the world. Falling to his knees, his arms encircled his middle, muffling that pain. He wanted nothing but to make it stop.

He vaguely heard a sound of surprise, coming from someone nearby, then the rush of hands holding onto his shoulders. They helped somewhat, a comfort to the madness.

The hands were warm and soothing. The voice of the person became clearer. He knew that voice. He knew those hands.

Annabeth appeared in his vision, all worry lines and pinched eyebrows. She said something to him again, but the words might’ve been ghosts; the stampeding blood behind his ears was too thunderous to make out anything else.

He closed his eyes and concentrated like he had earlier.

Sharp as a blade, his senses switched to the outside world.

“Are—are you okay?” Annabeth was saying. “You doubled over, and I…”

“No.” He opened his eyes to meet hers. They matched the storm that raged across the sea. “I—I’m not okay. I need to stop this, I need—”

“We were just discussing strategy,” she said. He was glad for the distraction she’d offered. “The Scolopendra isn’t just any ordinary sea monster.”

“The Scolo what?”

She helped him stand up, steadying him with her arms.

“The Scolopendra,” she repeated. “A child of Keto. It’s one of the biggest sea monsters in existence, and it won’t leave the camp border.”

“No shit.”

Annabeth ignored him, glancing backwards at where the monster had last been seen. “There’s no telling what it can do. There’s barely any recordings of it.” She swiveled back to him. “Chiron says that it can control the tide. It might be capable of drowning the camp if we don’t kill it.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

“I told Chiron that we needed to try my strategy first. As in, bombing it with Greek fire before we go with the last approach.”

“And what would that last approach be?”

He had some idea, but before Annabeth could speak, the creature shot out of the water, faster than lightning. He only caught a glimpse of the crayfish-like tail and rows of webbed feet before it disappeared again.

“That looks like a giant shrimp,” he declared.

A giant shrimp that was probably capable of crushing a decently-sized trireme. Shrimpzilla, he was about to call it, as a way to lighten the mood. But he thought better of it, once he saw the hard line of Annabeth’s lips as she watched the campers rev up the Greek fire.

The Scolopendra dared to peek out of the waves for the third time, giving the chance for Beckendorf to yell out an order. Instantly, canyons discharged the green substance directly towards the monster.

It roared defiantly, maybe in pain, maybe in anger. No one was sure, because as soon as the night sky lit up with green flames, the Scolopendra crashed against the water like a wrecking ball. For a moment, all was silent.

No one dared breathe.

Annabeth squeezed Percy’s shoulder. She looked hopeful, as if relieved that she didn’t have to go with the second plan.

Chiron’s tail twitched. Beckendorf held out a hand, urging the campers to wait. Some stood anticipatedly, swords ready. He saw Clarisse in the front line, her electric spear aimed at the sea and crackling with energy.

Percy sensed what was about to happen next before he heard it.

“Annabeth,” he said frantically. “Annabeth, we have to go. Now.”

“What? But—”

“NOW!”

He’d already separated himself from her, yelling at the rest of the campers to leave. They didn’t have the chance; milliseconds later, the Scolopendra appeared. It bellowed with the power of a thousand hurricanes. Many campers covered their ears.

To everyone’s horror, it had closed in on the shore, its back legs likely reaching the sand floor as it rose to its full, terrifying height. Lightning crackled, and with it, came another roar.

“No,” he muttered. “No, everyone get out!”

Too late. The monster had already spit out a million gallons’ worth of salt water.

Instinctively, Percy let out a yell and threw his hands out.

The water halted in midair, rippling like a broken mirror. It was as if time had slowed down, as if Kronos himself had been the one to interfere. But Kronos wasn’t interfering. It was all Percy—with nothing but his willpower. A bead of sweat rolled down from his temple.

Annabeth reached him just as he cried out and threw the water back to the sea with everything he had, forcing the giant shrimp to hide as well.

He caught his breath while Annabeth looked back and forth. From him to the sea, from the sea to him.

She shook her head at no one in particular. “The plan didn’t work.”

“No shit.”

Then she gazed at him again. “Thank you for doing that, Perce.”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “No problem.”

“About the second plan...”

“I have to kill it, don’t I?”

“I...maybe. But we can help—”

“It isn’t a maybe. It is a certainty,” a voice said, strong and firm.

They both turned around.

“Chiron,” Annabeth said. “How can he possibly—”

“He’s the only one capable,” the horseman said. “You know that better than most.”

Her eyes flicked to Percy. Memories flashed through his mind. A quick, burning kiss. A promise. Then, the way fire engulfed him. The call of the sea. An explosion, strong enough to wake one of the most dangerous monsters of all.

When the bombard was over, he understood. He had to face this monster alone, like he had with the telkhines.

“Okay,” he finally said.

“Okay, what?”

Chiron nodded at him, ignoring Annabeth’s question. Without glancing back, he retreated to where the rest of the demigods were watching by the sand dunes as a precaution.

“I need to face him alone,” Percy told her, once Chiron was gone.

“No! Percy, that thing is bigger than—”

“I’m the only one that can’t drown, Annabeth!” He grasped her shoulders so that she was looking directly at him. “If anyone can do it, it’s me.”

“Don’t think I can’t see what’s going on with you,” she said, voice bitter and rough. “You’re distant, like, like the ocean is—”

“We’re both growing distant, ‘Beth. That’s not the problem right now.”

She pushed his hands away. “And that’s not what I’m talking about, and you fucking know that!”

Before he could reply, the monster's call came again. A reminder that this night wasn’t over.

“Please. Just trust me on this, Annabeth. I have to try. It’s our last option. You said so yourself: it may be capable of drowning the entire camp.”

She said nothing, not even sparing him a glance.

“And—and I don’t know why I’m like this! Maybe it’s because I can feel the ocean getting agitated, or because the war is getting worse, or—”

He realized it, then. Annabeth's tears. They were silent rivers, flowing gently down her cheeks and into her mouth. Flowing down to where everything ended up, to the sea.

“Hey,” he said, approaching her slowly. He took both of her hands in his, but she repelled away from his touch. “Please, ‘Beth.”

This time, he cupped her damp cheek, moving it in his direction. “Please look at me.”

And when she finally obliged, her gaze was fractured with glistening tears, like diamonds.

“I can’t lose you again,” she whispered.

Percy had yearned for too long; he let go of that rope tugging him in the opposite direction and instead let Annabeth in. They melted into each other, both shamelessly giving away the little warmth they preserved. It was the kind of hug that felt like a lifeline, the kind that made them both sway like the tide.

“I missed you,” he mumbled into her curls.

She held him tighter. “I missed you, too.”

“But I have to fight this one myself.”

Annabeth pulled away slightly—and when he saw the look on her face—he knew that she knew.

-

“HEY, SHRIMPZILLA!”

The Scolopendra reared its head, even uglier up close. Its nostrils flared with hairs, beady eyes staring down at him. When he charged, the monster bellowed and threw itself in the water, sending sprays taller than a house.

But none of it touched Percy.

He didn’t stop running, a plan in mind. Meanwhile, the sea churned around him in one giant mass of power, but it parted with each step he took, forming a trail of now exposed ocean floor. Water collided with the sky, flying with the salt in the air.

Hello, friend, it seemed to say. Or rather, hum. The sea was a song, and he was just there to dance to its melody.

The Scolopendra had disappeared again.

He didn’t look back, though he knew the entire camp was there, watching—maybe in awe, but he didn’t care enough to find out. He kept walking, alone, surrounded by a pool of green and blue. Was this how Moses felt, In those stories he’d heard? Bricks of ocean water, flinging up into the sky, just so that Percy could pass. The feeling distracted him from the objective.

That’s what he’d argue later, because Percy can’t explain how the monster managed to sneak up to him that easily.

The pool of green seemed endless. There was a moment where nothing moved, not even the water. But then something did tug him violently, up, up into the sky.

For a second, he couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t scream out, the breath stolen from his lungs and the icy rush of air when flung into the sky nauseating. The only feeling he knew was of the Scolopendra and its death grip on his entire body.

With each second, the roiling waters grew farther and farther away. The Scolopendra’s growl, however, couldn’t have sounded closer. Sharp claws sank into his chest and arms. If he didn’t react now, he’d be eaten before the next flash of lightning struck the sea.

Somehow, he managed to uncap Riptide.

And with a scream, he stabbed, as hard as he could.

-

“Hey. Want company?” A soft voice said.

He craned his neck around.

Annabeth subconsciously made the world easier to look at. Especially now, as she stood behind him in the pier with the last vestiges of harsh sun striking her back. Her stance was stiff, hesitant. He understood why.

So instead his eyes bored into his lap. He shrugged.

That was a sign enough for her. She crouched next to him, pulling her legs under herself and then flinging them out to where the wooden planks ended and the open air began, toes nearly kissing the placid lake.

She sat next to him, quiet as the wind. It took a few seconds or minutes or hours before she decided to speak.

“I’m sorry.”

From his peripheral vision, he could tell that she’d been studying him instead of watching the reflection of herons flying above the water. Something he’d thought she’d been doing. Apparently not.

It also took him seconds or minutes or hours before he could respond.

“What for?”

She exhaled, “Letting you go alone. Being a part of the campers who…”

She didn’t finish that sentence. He knew why.

Being a part of the campers who abandoned you alone after what you did.

“S’okay. I get it.”

A lie. He didn’t get it.

“Doesn’t make it right.”

He stared at his hands. “Guess not.”

The details of the fight were yet to go away. The memories were still fresh—like his mother’s batch of cookies whenever he came home from camp. Teeth were ever-present in his mind. And those webbed hands. Those twisted sounds as a monster choked on its own blood.

Afterward, everyone had taken a step back. Even Annabeth and Chiron seemed to contemplate him as though he were doomed. Maybe he was.

“I wish Grover were here.”

“Yeah,” Annabeth sighed. She kicked her leg up, swatting at some mosquitos. “Me too.”

“He’d pull our shit together, fix everything.” He found himself sounding wistful, longing for a missing piece of himself all of a sudden.

She didn’t reply to that. They both missed their best friend. Now, more than ever. Percy tried to not dwell too much on the fact that Grover hadn’t responded to his Iris Messages or to his calls from their shared empathy link.

“I’m sorry.”

“You already said that.”

“No, Percy. I’m serious.”

“I know.”

“Just look at me.”

He did the opposite, gazing at the trees to his left. They were a deep, mystical green. The colors looked like the ocean, where he’d displayed his powers for everyone to see. Worst mistake of his life. He realized that tears had begun to form in his eyes; he quickly blinked them away.

“Percy,” Annabeth insisted.

Her tone wasn’t hash or demanding—but rather, a light pink sky. A hand brushing his, sweet and tender. He noticed that it wasn’t just his imagination; glancing down, he found her fingers ghosting against his knuckles.

“Please look at me.”

This was eerily familiar. It hit him, then, that he’d said those exact words when she’d panicked about him going alone to fight the Scolopendra.

Hesitantly, his eyes focused on her face. Her freckles were there, golden like the rest of her. Only now, her eyes were rimmed with tears.

Something changed inside them both. She stared at him, he stared at her. Her face contorted, and the both broke down, crumbling like ruins with the slightest gust.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, clinging to his shirt.

“Me too,” he murmured back.

He held unto her as if she were a life force, breathing in her lemony scent. Tears were exchanged, mingling in the other’s hair. They held each other, an embrace that didn’t deserve to end. It only made him cry harder, while Annabeth held him closer.

“Why are you sorry?”

He couldn’t say it out loud.

I’m sorry for why we’re like this. I’m sorry for scaring you. I’m sorry for leaving.

Instead, he pulled away. He studied her, every single feature, from those grey eyes and that upturned nose to those curls that no longer appeared to look like a princess.’ They were just Annabeth’s.

“I scared you,” he said.

His arms loosened around her, just now realizing how long they’d hugged, but their hands stayed interlocked—like some sort of middle ground.

She regarded him, eyebrows furrowed. “I can’t ever be scared of you,” she said matter-of-factly. “You’re my best friend, Perce.”

He looked away. “Everyone else was.”

“I should have gone to you after—I just...I thought you were angry at me.”

Their hands separated. “Why would I be angry at you?”

“Because I let you handle all of it alone. The monster, the campers—”

“‘Beth.” He took her hands again, cupping them with his. “I couldn’t ever be angry at you.”

“That’s not true,” she said wryly.

An observation, not an accusation. Still, that didn’t make it hurt any less. He recalled the shouting, the fights. The only thing they looked for in those moments was to hurt the other, twist and pull at any chink in the armor they could find.

She winced, remembering that, too. “Sorry.”

His mouth twitched. “You’ve said ‘sorry’ too many times. It’s getting repetitive.”

She hit his shoulder playfully. “Well, I mean it.”

He didn’t retort anything back. They found peace in this lake, once again gazing at the horizon.

“It’s not true what you said, either,” he said, his mind lingering on what she’d told him earlier. “You’re scared, as well.”

The sound of the incoming crickets carried on in Annabeth’s hesitation.

That is, until she said, “I am. Scared. I’m scared.” He glanced over. She was staring in his direction, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. She cleared her throat. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Neither did I.”

She laughed, breathless. “See that’s what scares me. What else can you do? Honestly?”

He shrugged, turning away from her.

“How’d you do that, anyway?”

“I defeated it, didn’t I?” It was better to deflect than to answer her question.

Defeating the monster should’ve been what mattered, anyway.

“Percy.”

“Annabeth,” he said, in the same condescending tone.

“All I’m saying is that you could hurt yourself. You don’t know what you’re capable of. And then when your birthday happens—”

“You think I’m going to destroy Olympus or something?” He shook his head. “I should’ve known that you’d side with the gods on that, too. You think that they should kill me?”

“What? Percy, I’d never—”

He whirled, facing her, and finally let go of all those pent-up thoughts that just like the sea, wouldn’t leave him alone.

“Just admit it, Annabeth! Admit that it freaked you out that I blood bended or whatever the fuck Chiron called it! Admit, that it freaked you out how I killed that monster! That I’m fucking cursed!”

“Percy Jackson, you are not—”

“Yes, I am. Why would my dad give me powers like that? Huh? Just say it with me: you’re scared—of me.”

Her eyes were red, face hard as stone. Just like her voice when she said, “Look. I just wanted to help. But if you want to sit in your self pity, then go for it! You clearly don’t need me.”

She made no move to leave, however.

Their eyes held, until the anger from both of them melted. He huffed out a breath, shoulders hunching. “We can’t ever stop fighting, can we?”

She sighed.

“Guess not.”

“I won’t do that again.”

She lifted her chin. “Why?”

“Like you said. Scared you.”

That made her purse her lips.

“You’re not cursed, Percy. You know that, right?”

She reached for his hand. It was becoming a strange routine. Finding comfort in hand holding and then dismantling it as if it never happened.

“You’re mostly right all the time, so.” He squeezed her hand. “I s’pose I’m not cursed, then.”

“I’m right most of the time?” she said, eyes twinkling.

“Okay, fine,” he conceded. “You’re right only sometimes.”

She opened her mouth in mock-offense. “Percy Jackson—”

He cut her off with his laugh, a laugh that fit with the music of the crickets. She rolled her eyes, something that he’d missed achingly, now that he saw her do it for the first time in what seemed like forever.

Scooting closer, she nudged him. “I could help you. Alongside Clarisse.”

His eyes widened. “You knew about that?”

“She’s my friend, too.”

“Of course she is,” he muttered.

Him and Clarisse...they might’ve had a rocky relationship when he’d first arrived at camp, but now, he didn’t know what he’d do without her help—without her friendship. They both understood the other in a bizzare, not very common way. She’d helped him hone in his powers, but it had yet to be something he’d wanted to admit to Annabeth. To everyone else, for that matter.

“I get why you didn’t want to tell me,” she said. “But...I do want to help. You’re my best friend, and, and I also want to spend time with you. If...that’s alright.”

“It’s alright by me.”

Annabeth gave him a look.

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” He tried for a smile. “I guess you could come along, then.”

His grin was shared with her, though her eyes were serious. “You’ll see. We’ll figure out your powers. What you can do, why you can do it, why the sea is affecting you…”

“All of it?”

She nodded. “All of it.”

They left it at that, though what they didn’t leave was the canoe pier. Not until the sun hid under the trees, spilling its ink of reds and oranges across the horizon.

The golden of the sun was replaced by the silver of the moon for the night, then it rose again for the day.

And in between, the waves lapped against the shore, constant and content. The ocean had calmed. For now.

[hugespace]

Prompt: van, thunderstorm, link is scared and rhett is there for him and gives him hugs and kisses

Thanks love 😘

There you go! 🥰 I ended up writing some high school Rhink - lots of fluff with a dash of angst. Hope you’ll enjoy it!

*** (~2k words) ***

"How the crap did you miss that, Rhett?!" Link rapidly turned his whole body in the passenger seat, making his bleached blonde locks flap around on the top of his head. "How are we even out of gas-? Didn't you just say, like yesterday, that you'd fill it up?!" he threw his hands in the air, staring with disbelief at his friend who sat quietly behind the wheel.

Rhett muttered something in response, his head downturned and eyes focused on his own lap.

"Rhett!" Link exclaimed impatiently, not having gotten a clear answer out of the other boy.

"I thought we'd make it, okay?! I was gonna buy gas with some of the money we'd get after the gig!" Rhett repeated his explanation in a raised voice this time, finally looking his friend in the eyes and shrugging in the process.

Link only returned the look with wide eyes.

"Are you serious-? You're so irresponsible!" he answered even louder after a few short seconds of processing Rhett's words. "You're telling me you wanted to buy gas with the money we won't even get now because we won't get to the damn concert- because. You didn't. Get. Gas. In the first place?!" Link continued thought clenched teeth. "What the crap, Rhett?!"

The taller boy felt his face grow warm. Sure, perhaps Link was right, it wasn't the smartest decision of his life, or even of just that day, probably – electing to risk not reaching their destination in a borrowed van full of equipment for the two of them and the other members of Wax Paper Dogz just to be able to spend the last of his cash for the week on snacks. But he certainly wasn't going to give the other boy that, or the full reason for getting them stranded in the middle of a road on the way to the farm they were supposed to play at, for that matter. Truth was, Rhett didn't do well with criticism. Not even when it was earned.

He opened his mouth and got ready to match Link's tone, when a powerful crash of thunder resounded directly above them all of a sudden, immediately preventing the shouting match that was surely about to ensue.

"What was that-?" When Link's voice reverberated to Rhett's right again, it was remarkably smaller and less filled with anger than just seconds ago.

"Shit" was the only response the older boy could muster as the sky opened up, letting thick and heavy drops of rain fall onto the world around them, drumming angrily against the van's roof.

"At least we don't gotta worry about the gig-?" Rhett tried for a reassuring smile after a few beats of silence between them ticked by, interrupted only by blaring sounds of the summer storm they’d apparently gotten caught in. "It ain't gonna happen now with that rain-" he conceded, hoping it won't anger Link any further.

The younger boy was silent, the unexpected arrival of thunder seemed to have not only taken away his temper, but his voice as well.

"Link?"

A pair of blue eyes, still wide open, met Rhett's. The fire that burned in them just moments before the first loud crash fizzled out completely, giving way to a cold shade of fear, and the face they belonged to quickly became visibly paler, taking on a greyish colour only intensified by the sudden lack of sunlight.

"I don't like this-" Link whispered, clutching the edges of his seat with such force that his knuckles soon matched the paleness of his face.

Now, Link didn't exactly suffer from a deadly fear of thunder, not to Rhett's knowledge at least, which after more than a decade of being best friends meant it could as well be equalled to a fact. On the other hand, he wasn't especially keen on those either, and the aspect of being trapped in a metal can in the middle of a country road with absolutely nowhere to go to seek refuge only added another dimension to that.

Instinctively, Rhett reached out a hand and rubbed the other boy's shoulder soothingly.

"Hey- Hey, look at me. Link-?" he leaned forward trying to catch his friend’s eyes again and grasp his attention, temporarily directed towards the sky where bright flashes of lightning cut through the dark graphite clouds one after another. "Hey"

Link finally directed his attention back to Rhett, gulping loudly, almost comically, if it weren't for the entire situation. "We're gonna be fine. The car's safe, we're better off here than anywhere outside probably, just don’t touch the doors. We'll wait till the rain passes a bit and then I'll go get us gas, okay? The station's not that far. We'll be good." Rhett added in a calm voice, still keeping his right hand on Link and gently rubbing his upper back.

"Okay" the boy replied, still in a weak voice, and drew in a deep breath, only to be startled by another instance of rumbling thunder and hastily clasp Rhett's other hand.

"Sorry..." he cleared his throat and tried to compose himself once the sound of thunderclap died down, leaving them only with the deafening banging of raindrops against the van. Link went to retract his hand but was stopped by Rhett's before the taller boy could think about it.

"Ssh, don't. S’okay, brother."

The split-second decision to comfort Link and hold him like he hasn't since they were kids came from the feeling of guilt for getting them in that situation in the first place, he told himself. And sure, he did feel responsible for making Link endure the storm in a car stuck in the middle of nowhere all because of his stupid idea. But it wasn't just guilt; the vulnerable look on his friend's pale face combined with the fear in his big glassy eyes made him look like the boy he was when they were still in grade school - small and innocent, and it tugged at Rhett's heart in a way he didn't fully comprehend, awakening an instinct to protect Link no matter what.

"Do you... Maybe we'd- Should we...?" Yes, Rhett did make a decision but was suddenly struggling to articulate it. The scared boy next to him wasn't really listening anyway, his whole attention focused on the sky again and his free hand grasping Rhett's sleeve and trembling. Rhett cleared his throat and tried again. "We should move to the back."

"Whaa...?" Link started but was cut off by his friend gently removing his fingers from the fabric of his shirt and swiftly moving to the row of seats behind them.

"C'mon. It's gonna be more comfortable. The stick's poking my leg when I lean over like that." the older boy offered from the expanse of the middle row, gesticulating to the gap between Link and the now empty driver's seat.

If Link was hesitant to join him, another growl of thunder must have been enough to persuade him because suddenly, he was clambering to join Rhett, inadvertently nudging his thighs and elbowing him in the process.

"Auch! Okay, okay- Com'ere" The older boy grabbed the other's shoulders once he was situated next to him and moved his body even closer, encircling it with his long lanky arms and squeezing hard, making Link's head fall onto his chest.

To his surprise, his best friend didn't protest, he only burrowed his face deeper in the front or Rhett's bunched up flannel and breathed in deeply, obviously trying to relax.

"Good, good" Rhett praised absent-mindedly and slowly stroked Link's smooth hair, temporarily stunned by the feeling of warmth and peace holding the other boy so close gave him. After a couple of minutes of stillness, he felt Link's arms move, too, and wriggle in between the backrest of the seat and Rhett's lower back, finally hugging him back around the waist. It made the taller boy instinctively seek even more contact, and he lowered his head, positioning his face on Link's hair and eventually, before he could rethink it, leaving a kiss on top of it

Link froze and tensed up again, though this time there was no crash of thunder or flash of lightning to blame it on.

Oh no. Rhett's action caught up to him. This was weird. He was being weird. They never kissed each other, not even like that, not even when they were kids. His heart sped up from embarrassment and he was sure his friend could feel it, with the way he was still clinging to his chest. But he wasn’t letting go- In fact, he seemed to hug Rhett even tighter now, nuzzling his face into his body, left cheek smushed against his sternum.

Shyly, Rhett risked another smooch to Link's head, this time as close to his forehead as he could reach in the position they were in.

In response, the boy let out what sounded like an appreciative hum, or maybe even a tiny whimper, and a warm breath against Rhett’s skin, making his heart pick up the pace again. Continuing the pattern of acting before we could talk himself out of it, Rhett gathered his friend and tried to pull him even closer, not even sure if it was possible at that point, and was rewarded with Link landing almost entirely in his lap.

The face of his best friend was now nearly level with his. It was blushed, he realised, the earlier sickly tone of his complexion gone almost completely. His hair, equally blonde as Rhett's though significantly longer, was dishevelled. The sight was endearing, there was no other word to describe it, and the look in Link's eyes, blue as ever and soft now – not as filled with fear anymore, only made the effect it had on Rhett more intense.

Blinded by the affection that flooded him all of a sudden, he leaned in again, now able to kiss Link's forehead, and left another peck there, keeping his lips pressed to it for a bit longer. Before Rhett could really get used to the new sensation, Link straightened his back, making himself taller in Rhett's lap and as a result, bringing his own lips to the same hight his friend mouth was at.

The taller boy flinched slightly and almost recoiled on instinct, seeing how there were no more than two inches of tense air filled with petrichor separating their faces, and nothing else.

Almost.

Instead, he gathered all of his courage and closed that gap, planting his lips square on Link's.

They were incredibly soft, almost cushiony, and oh so warm. And they were moving against his! He realised, stunned, as the other boy's hand reached up to his face and gently cupped his jaw.

Rett felt his own lips form an involuntary smile, soon matched by the lips he was kissing. As they started to separate, both beaming and searching each other’s faces with sparkly eyes, he took in the near silence that surrounded them.

The rain stopped, there was no banging on the roof of their van and no rumbling of thunder above. It was like the clouds dissipated the moment they kissed, giving way to sun again, Rhett thought not caring about how silly and romantic at the same time that idea was.

Divine intervention or a simple coincidence, he didn't care. The sky was clear now and so was the fact that he just shared a kiss with the person he loved most in the entire world. How he hadn't realised that earlier was unimportant. It might have taken being stranded in the middle of a road, surrounded by nothing but trees and crops and a thunderstorm worse than any other time that summer to get there, but they did, in the end - that was all that mattered.

And with that thought, Rhett embraced Link trying to put all of his love into it, and went to kiss him again.

[inkedtae]

rupture; rapture ⇾ kth. [M]

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ ex-boyfriend!taehyung x reader (f.)

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾  one shot, angst, smut, f2l(?), e2l(?), ex lovers au, rekindled lovers(?), sculptor au, 18+

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾  responding to a late night call for help forces you to revisit truths you so skillfully ignored. was it always meant to fall apart to fall back into place?

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 13.2k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ slight upsetting themes, mentions of a new relationship, mentions of infidelity (tae thinks reader used him to each on her date), vague mention of consuming alcohol, switch!Taehyung, mullet!taehyung, sub!reader, unprotected sex, rough sex, clay/paint/art sex(?), hate-love sex(?), makeup sex(?), size kink, oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms (f.), creampie, overstimulation, a lil degradation, a lil face-licking, body worshipping, clit worshipping, a lil clit biting, choking, spanking, motorboating, begging, teasing, swearing, breath play, breast play

anon asked: taehyung19angst asghjkll. U have a prompt list ? So for that. Maybe. If u want to. WOW. Ur awesome. The bestest. Okay. Bye. Love. Me.

#19 ⇝ “You said you knew how to do this.”

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾  i am aware this is supposed to be a drabble but that never seems to be even for taehyung so here’s a one shot instead. also sorry for writing this so late 

☾ banner by ⇾ @editingverse​ (thank you so so so much dear~ please go give her all your love!! this banner is beautiful!!)

☾ beta’d by ⇾ @kkulmoon​ (luff you, my soulmate crackhead~)

☾ le playlist

◖send me a prompt from dabble drabble. i will try to get to it as soon as i can. please note that i have the right to refuse any request i find uncomfortable.◗

Navigating to the chipped yellow door is second nature. Four months of distance does not change how easy it is for you to find your way to his place from across town. Your most haunting regret, however, is accepting his call. You sat around your apartment for months, fantasizing about how powerful you’d feel when your phone rings and you see his name flash only to decline the call. You told yourself that is how you will regain your dignity, how you will reclaim your life. He’s been a big part of it since freshman year. Best friends instantly, lovers only a year down the line. Clicking that red button, rejecting his apologies is how you believed you’d be able to move on and fully erase him from your life for good.

But, in the midst of a drink with someone else’s company, he calls and you do not refuse. Your heart flips only to fall and shatter in the pit of your stomach. You press the green button without much thought and bring the phone to your ear. He sounds so unsure, so nervous. A relieved sigh you didn’t realize you were holding escapes you. Eyes watering, you whisper his name.

The shame creeps upon you, condescendingly soothing your ego. Where’s your dignity now? It’s as nonexistent as when you stormed out of this very door and swore never to return. You can hear the fates snickering, watching your pathetic self stand outside of the door. Shaking out a shiver, you gather up the scattered pieces of your courage and knock on the door.

The screech of metal on metal echoes as he unlocks the door. The sound is more comforting than you expected it to be. You can’t remember the amount of times you’ve nagged him to replace the damned thing. It’s old, rusted, and the scratches of the metal make you cringe as though your bones are rotting. It used to make your jaw ache, now it only comforts you. Little things already undress your confidence. What will seeing him again do? What emotions will it beckon?

Misery leaks from your bones and into your bloodstream. The door opens to a vision of grace. In his clay-smeared jumpsuit, the sleeves wrapped around his waist and his bare chest exposed, he stares back at you. Though frozen from the winter air, you feel your face grow hot. Eyes shaking, you don’t know where to look. You’re not even sure if you can meet his gaze. It intensifies with every ticking second his long bangs fall over his lashes. He let it grow out? You’ve begged him to do so for months and once you’re apart he finally gives in? You knew he’d look good, maybe even better than his shorter cut.

The sight only confirms that you’ll never understand him. But, you suppose, you don’t have to. He’s not yours to understand anymore, not even as a friend. That statement should give you a sense of relief, but it only resurfaces the loneliness you’ve been ignoring for months.

Shakily sighing, you plaster a polite smile and greet, “Hey Tae.”

Taehyung parts his lips, but his voice catches. He stares back at you, gaze dancing up and down your frame. He drinks in the way your black dress pants hug your curves, and how you dare to wear a tube-top under your coat in the freezing weather. Gulping, Taehyung flashes you a kind, tight lipped smile and moves aside to welcome you in. His chain looped earring dangles with his movements. It’s such a simple antic, but you cannot fight off the familiar comfort in your chest upon catching it.

Each step back into his apartment fogs your mind with memories of joy and despair alike. Sometimes, those emotions rise in tandem during the same memory, within the same five minute time span. But other times, those memories are saturated with one emotion or the other. You two could never find that balance; not as lovers anyway, not as you thought.

“Make yourself at hom-” he cuts himself off just as the door shuts.

You turn to face him, raising a brow at his slip up. Funny how things circle back no matter how much either of you try to suppress them. This place has always felt like home to you. In fact, revisiting it proves that it still does. He just never let you make it official.

The gloom of four months ago has followed you back in here as well, it would seem. You gulp down the little scratch in your throat and try your best to flash a smile. His brows raise at the gesture. You assume a teeth braced wince paints your features instead.

Clearing his throat, Taehyung corrects himself, “Comfortable. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll grab you a hot drink to warm you up.” His gaze shifts to the slanted window over his little studio sectioned in the corner of his apartment. “It’s really coming down out there.”

Setting your clutch down on his work table, you nod. He glares at your action before looking back at you. You are fully aware of his distaste for you to dump your things near his work, even if it happens to be your own sculpting supplies. However, he distrubed your date tonight and that little slip up of his recalls more anger than you care to accept right now. Playing into his pet peeves is the very least you can do to show him that you’re not here for anything else but fixing his sculpture.

With a pleasant smile plastered on your lips, you peel your jacket off and set it down on the table as well. Taehyung sarcastically smirks then makes his way to the kitchen. You know you shouldn’t but you let your eyes linger on his frame and follow him around the kitchen while he prepares something for you. His shoulder blades flex as he reaches for a mug from the top shelf - a detail you always found makes you anxious because the cups can easily slip out of his hand from such a height and break.

He must feel your gaze as he glances back at you. “You must be freezing,” he comments.

Looking down at your half top, you shrug. “Not really. That’s what a jacket is for.” You shouldn’t sass. It always gets on his nerves. But, the way he regards you with such tamed hostility and smirks all knowingly, switches something in you. You cannot hold yourself back and he cannot expect to call you over here in the dead of night for help only to glare and sneer at you.

Out of sheer spite, you sit on one of the stools by the table and bend down to untie your thick heeled boots. He absolutely hates this. Sloppy and messy, is what he tells you when you come into the apartment with your shoes on and take them off near his studio. Taehyung stirs the contents of your mug, tossing daggers at you in his stares.

It is only now, in the thick silence, do you hear the soft voice of Sinatra through the vinyl player. Glancing over at the source, you recognize the album cover immediately. It’s the same one you gifted him for his birthday last year. His next one is in a couple of weeks. The realization unexpectedly twinges your heart with guilt. You feel as though you should have already bought his gift, and planned his party. It’s not your responsibility to do that anymore, but you want to and that’s enough for your tongue to coat with disgusted remorse.

“Want me to get you a sweater?” Taehyung asks.

You sit up straight at the close sound of his voice. He stands in front of you with the mug in his hands, glaring down at your boots. Kicking them off by the heel, you stare down at the puddle you’ve made beneath the chair. You should apologize but, instead, you thank him for the drink, take it from his hands, and make your way to the project he’s been working on. He mutters curses under his breath before cleaning up the mess you’ve made… As he should.

You smirk into your cup before taking a sip. Hot chocolate. It’s all he can make, or cares to make. And though it is not your favourite drink, he still prepares it to your specifications. Extra sweet and creamy, with a dash of ginger. Could the habits of your past be muscle memory he cannot shake either?

The answer never arrives as your thoughts halt at the sight of his sculpture. Though returned back onto its pedestal, the torso seems to have endured a terrible fall. He’s so careful about things like this. How could he have let it happen? Was the inner wiring he used too heavy? Did he not use enough slip, otherwise known as wet clay, to keep additions in place?

You bite the inside of your cheeks to school your features. Still, there is no hiding the truth. Especially when it’s right in front of you. Redemption is nonexistent. The sculpture is ruined. Tilting your head, you stare at the unfinished molding and try to figure out how to fix it without adding more clay, since he claimed on the phone that he doesn’t have enough to start over.

“Well?” He asks behind you.

Looking back at him, you take another sip then hand him the cup to hold. Taehyung accepts it, bringing the mug to his lips. The gesture is so simple, so casual that you almost miss it. He did it a lot when you two were together. You did it too. It was never a pet peeve but rather something you were proud of. It proved how close you two were, how well you meshed. Sharing food is common between lovers. Only now, that’s not at all what you are.

You stare at him, mouth gape. He licks his lips before taking another sip. The action repairs your heart only for your reality to wreck it all over again. Catching your eye, he raises his brows in confusion. You flicker your gaze between him and the cup, hoping the silent gesture is enough to return his senses.

Eyes widening, he holds the cup away from his face. “Oh,” he hums under his breath. “I’ll, uh, get you a new one.”

“Don’t bother,” you shrug before he can even turn towards the kitchen. “It’s not that big a deal.”

It is. You’re not his and neither is that hot chocolate. He should know better. He should pay attention more. He can see this all in your eyes as you continue to silently judge him. It’s not that big a deal, you repeat to yourself. The way his large eyes soften, the way he pouts is not that big a deal. You have a job to do, feelings to ignore, and a person to never see again. All you have to do is remold the clay and be on your way.

Finally returning your attention to the sculpture, you approach it while pulling your hair back. It’s rather large since he scaled it to be life-sized, so you assume he has some structural wiring in there to keep it in place when molding. You might have to take it out and remold the entire section. But maybe you can simply push the wiring back in place? However, if your theory about the wiring being too heavy is correct, you might face another smash to the floor. So it seems easier to just pull it all out.

“Is the clay still wet?” You ask before poking the shoulder.

It’s tacky, but that’s not enough to keep it from drying. You scan the room for the spray bottle, finding it behind you. Being a sculptor yourself, you know that the clay has to stay wet enough to be able to continue to add and mold it. Your scan of the room reflects that he is close to finishing the project. He has the muse’s head and arms wrapped in air-tight bags to keep them from drying. They just need to be slipped, slid, and smoothed into place. The details also need to be added, but for the most part, he’s just about done.

“If you’re gonna figure it out yourself, why did you ask me?” He sighs as he sets the mug down near a cup of paint water.

His tone is uncalled for. Nothing seems to have changed. He still has a temper and makes no effort to readjust his attitude. You toss him a glare over your shoulder. After spraying some water over the sculpture, you start to dig your fingers into the molding. Taehyung sucks in a sharp breath behind you. You can’t blame him for such a reaction. It must be very disturbing to watch someone else dig through your hard work.

You take off the clay bit by bit, looking for the metal structure wires he must’ve used to keep it all shaped well. However, as you place another chunk on the table, you begin to realize that the sculpture is not hollow, meaning wires have not been used. He simply ventilated the slab of clay to help air bubbles escape when it comes time to fire it.

Furrowing your brows, you look over at him in confusion. He leans back against his work table with his arms crossed over his chest, staring at you. Is this a joke? He doesn’t need your help. He could’ve dug through the smushed clay and remorphed it himself. He’s more experienced than you are; he should’ve known this.

Your anger begins to fester in your chest. He must’ve heard. You still share some mutual friends, so he must’ve heard down the line that you were going out with somebody else tonight. Your outfit of choice is a clear indicator as well. He found out about your date, your first date in the last four months you’ve been broken up, and just needed to ruin it for you. Fuck, you can’t believe you seriously bought his lies again. It’s that stupid voice of his. So deep and soulful, you can never resist it’s lulling temptations.

“What?” Taehyung pushes himself off the table and walks towards you. “You’re pouting like you always do just before you’re about to shout. Is it that bad?”

Is that what he’s doing now? He’s trying to remind you how well he knows you, how well he can read you? If this is just another reminder that no one is like him, you just might prove him right and scream out of frustration. Huffing, you roll your eyes at him. No matter how much your heart flips and flutters at his concern, you will not fall for his stupid games.

He watches in confusion as you clean your hands off with a cloth. “God, (Y/N), what is it? I thought you said you knew how to do this.”

With a dry chuckle, you shake your head and mumble, “You’re still the same liar you’ve always been, Taehyung.”

The perplexed sculptor narrows his eyes. “What did I tell you about mumbling?” He questions in a grumble. “And what the hell are you going on about anyways?”

His tendency to be a walking contradiction will never cease to irk you. He tells you not to mumble then does it himself. Just another pet peeve he’s instilled in you that you can never shake. Then there’s the continuous lies he can never seem to stop telling. For once, why can’t he just be honest?

You toss the dirty cloth at him and make your way to his precious work table only to find that he moved your things to the chair by the door. You rush in that direction instead, and Taehyung follows not too far behind. “I can’t believe you’re still pulling this shit even when it’s over,” you scoff with a shake of your head. “You made it seem like you had no idea what to do. You guilted me into coming back here and for what? To ruin the first night I stopped thinking about you? Well, congratulations,” you drily chuckle as you grab your clutch and turn to face him. “You’ve ruined my night and my date.”

Taehyung pauses mid stride. “Oh,” he rasps, eyes roaming over your body once more. “You had a date tonight?”

Eyes wide, softened, and wet, his next words catch in his throat. All you can make out is a quiet rasp. It’s a convincing act, but you know him well enough to spot his feigned innocence from a mile away. Setting your jaw, you shake your head and sigh, “Not any more.”

You reach for your jacket, but Taehyung is quicker. He snatches it first and holds it behind him. You open your mouth to curse at him when he rushes to say, “Wait, wait.” Hand on your waist, he holds you still.

You freeze under his palm. He’s barely used much force. It’s the simple touch itself that sends you into a trance. The memories of being pinned beneath him, or guided into grinding against his hips rush back to you. Breath hitching, you try to wipe the affection from your features. The searching look in his eyes tells you how bad of a job you’re doing.

“I could fix it myself, but not by myself,” he clarifies. “I just didn’t know how to get you here without making it seem like it’s a complete disaster. Be honest, (Y/N), if I told you I wanted you to sculpt with me you wouldn’t have shown up.”

Be honest. When the fuck have you ever lied to him? The question is tempting to ask, sitting right on the tip of your tongue actually, but you can already tell that you’ve made your annoyance known as concern swims in his eyes. He’s trying to find where he went wrong in his explanation. He’s never done that before. He never notices your discomfort during a fight, but always after the fact. That’s enough to have you consider his explanation, to consider the fact that maybe he has not changed completely, but he’s trying. Perhaps you should start trying too.

Besides, he’s not wrong. If he didn’t make it seem like it was irreversible, you wouldn’t have accepted the invitation over or even thought about ditching your date. Chewing on your lip, you sigh and nod. “Fine, I’ll help you fix it.”

A relieved smile plays on his lips. He removes his hand from your waist, muttering a quiet apology then returns your jacket onto the chair. You set your clutch down on there as well, nowhere near his work, and follow him back to the sculpture. He sprays it down as you take another couple of sips from your hot chocolate.

“When is this due?” You ask as you set the mug down.

Taehyung’s gaze shakes. “At nine,” he reluctantly replies. He sets the spray bottle down. You stare at him in confusion.

The time is both seemingly vague and specific. You furrow your brows, blinking rapidly in hopes that you can reprocess the information for more clarity. When that doesn’t work, you ask, “Tonight?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

Thirteen hours? That’s all you two have to remold and detail a life-sized sculpture. This information alone would’ve had you running to help as well. Why didn’t he just tell you this? Why did he have to lie? No, nevermind his lies. You both have thirteen hours to remold the base, attach the head and arms, and add all the details on all four pieces. It may seem like a lot of time but you also have to let the clay sit for a few hours before firing. However, with a sculpture this large, it might need at least three days to dry. How did he expect to finish the rest on his own?

Nothing is adding up. You know Taehyung very well. You’ve shared sculpting classes countless times. His work comes first; always. He sketches and prepares months in advance for a project since the clay can crack or explode during its bake. How could he not have done the same thing here? He should’ve started this at least four months ago… oh.

Taehyung spares you a nervous glance. He can see the realization of his own reality in your eyes. You swallow thickly, knowing you should just pretend that you haven’t noticed anything. Still, you say, “Tae, we both know that’s not enough time. Even if we split the work, it still needs-”

“Don’t worry about that,” he mumbles. His hands smooth over every chunk of clay he reapplies. “Let’s just piece it all together, okay?”

There is a lot you have to force yourself to ignore in his words and tone. He mumbles orders, and expects you to follow. His voice is deep and cold. He gives you his back while he speaks. It’s but another pet peeve of his that makes you want to pull your own hair out. However, most of all, you have to force yourself to ignore how painful it is. Seeing him again, only an arm’s length away, crumbles your anger and hearing his voice reminds you that he still holds every bit of your heart. You have to blink your tears back at the realization. This idea reeked the moment you considered it. But, you can never stop yourself when it comes to him. A year of friendship and two of love; how can you forget all of that in four months?

Taehyung turns to you, his eyes trailing up from your hips to your chest where they linger. Flickering his gaze back up to yours, he offers a tight-lipped smile. You fail to find it in you to return it. He sighs. Hands by his side, voice heavy with sincerity, he says, “I won’t force you to stay, babe- (Y/N).” His slip up has him frozen in place as well. Clearing his throat, he continues, “I need to get this done and you’re the only other person I know who knows how I like it.”

The familiar pet name gives you pause, but the end of that sentence has you hot all over. Your eyes widen at the alternate implication of his words and you can’t help but choke on your next intake of air.

Taehyung’s expression mirrors yours. Face reddening, he’s quick to correct himself. “No, no, I just mean artistically.”

You cannot find the words to say something, anything to make this situation better. Lips parted, all you can voice are quiet croaks of uncertainty. His large eyes, wide with anxiety, watch you carefully. He’s clearly unsure of how else to soothe your discomfort. He goes to say something else but the words fall short. The scene has your skin crawling with shivers. Shaking your head, you walk around him to smooth out the clay he remolded.

“I’ll fix her waist. I think you should get started on the details,” you say, hoping his words can just fizzle away along with the awkward silence that has fallen over the both of you.

Taehyung takes a deep breath. His eyes remain trained on you for a moment, watching as you match the sculpture’s left side to her right. Then, he circles around you and makes his way to his work table.

Though you should be focused on your work, you still have one eye on Taehyung. The jumpsuit sits low on his hips, and his back is bare of any scratches. Your lasting desire to mark up the blank canvas of his back tightens your core. You can feel your black pants dampening at the thought alone. Your hand gently presses into the mold, smoothing out every piece you add.

With Sinatra’s calm voice circling around the room, you and Taehyung fall into a comfortable silence. The rhythm of your actions, the way you move around each other is like muscle memory. You can subconsciously anticipate the other’s next move and react accordingly. He hands you tools before you need to ask and you accept them without a second thought. It’s easy, comfortable, and so familiar that you almost forget he ruined your plans tonight.

Taking a step back, you wipe your wrist over your brow then assess your work. You’ve been trying to sculpt one of the figure’s breasts, adding clay and rounding out the mold. However, it seems like you’ve undershot a bit and made one mound a bit smaller than the other. You sigh and reach for more clay when Taehyung interjects.

“Leave it,” he says from his place beside you.

When did he step back too? He was just detailing one of the sculpture’s hands. “They’re uneven,” you point.

He smirks. “I like them that way.”

His eyes flicker to your chest again before meeting your gaze once more. You shouldn’t look into that gesture too much, but you do. He can’t say something like that, stare at your breasts suggestively and think you wouldn’t notice. Unless, he wants you to notice. You start to wonder how often he’s thought about your breasts and why he feels the need to incorporate them into his project.

While you remain standing in your place, Taehyung returns to his crouched position and continues his work. You can’t bring yourself to move just yet. You stare at the sculpture, at the curve of her stomach and dip of her waist. She’s full-figured and even has stretch marks on her hips, well the side that has not met the floor still has stretch marks. You need to add them on the other side. But, the shape of her body just looks all too familiar.

No, no, it can’t be. He didn’t sculpt your naked body entirely from memory. And why should he? You’re not a couple and he’s made it clear during those four months of silence that he doesn’t want anything to do with you either. No, this is merely just some consequence. You sigh and get back to work. Those thoughts completely boarded shut out of your mind.

“Were you having fun?” He suddenly asks, standing up to start detailing the sculpture’s breasts.

You glance up at him, about to ask what he means when you remember the date. “Oh,” you hum. You’re not sure how much to tell him, or if you should even entertain him with an answer at all. He’s obviously still affected by the break up if he let it get in the way of his project timeline. What was your date’s name anyway? Morgan, Mac, Mark- Mark! Yes, it was Mark something or maybe something Mark. Fuck, you can’t even remember his name. You’re not even sure where you met up for drinks.

Taehyung pauses his sculpting around the figure’s nipple. He chances a quick look at you, raising a brow. “That bad?” He teases with a playful smile.

His light-hearted tone shocks you out of your thoughts. Maybe you read the situation wrong. Maybe he is over you. Otherwise, why would he ask you about your date so casually, like you two were friends? Or maybe… he’s seeing someone else himself? Sumni did ask for your permission to date him. She was so kind and understanding in her questioning that you couldn’t refuse her. Even if it was a week ago, she would have already talked to him by now and they could’ve already gone on their own date. The sheer thought of Taehyung dating around makes your throat tighten and stomach ache.

“I didn’t stay long enough to make up my mind,” you reply, trying your best not to mumble. Your voice is small though, and tone shot by misery. A wave of hopelessness washes over you at how final everything between you and him feels again. “I don’t think he’s for me though.”

Taehyung hums in acknowledgment or understanding? You don’t know. You can’t pull yourself out of your self pity long enough to decipher it. “Poor guy,” he mutters as he picks up where he left off on the sculpture’s breast.

You carve uneven lines on the figure’s hips, recreating some stretch marks like he had done to the other side. Raising your brows, you question, “What is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs a single shoulder. “I just know what it’s like to lose someone as great as you,” he explains in a near whisper. “The poor guy is gonna lose his mind.”

Tears sting your eyes. He can’t do this. He can’t guilt you for leaving him, not when you both know that it’s just as much his fault as it is yours. Still, even in the midst of pain, the kindness laced in his words tugs the corners of your lips into a small smile. Is that what happened to him? Did this poor guy, this poor little sculptor lose his mind when he lost you?

You toss him a sidelong glance, whispering, “He’ll survive.”

“He can only pray to.”

What is this? What is he trying to say? So he regrets the way that things ended, perhaps even that they ended entirely. Does he think you don’t? Nothing can change how you feel for him. Nothing can hide how badly you wish you can still call him your own. But, he said it himself. He does not want you around, in such close proximity to him anymore. Two years into, what you thought was, a serious relationship and he does not want you living with him.

“I’ll grow tired of us,” he said. Or does he not remember? Did he forget how he promised he’d get you a key, or help you pack? Did he forget how high he got your hopes? Has the fear of getting bored of your company finally withered away?

What does it even matter now? You both said things you haven’t even attempted to take back. Not a single apology has been issued either. Whatever relationship you once had is gone. You can never get it back. Still, you don’t have the stomach to break it to him. You can’t destroy the last little bit of hope he has in you. You can’t find it in you to tell him that no amount of prayer will get you to willingly return to such a relationship.

“He hasn’t been in my company for too long to miss me. Actually, I’m worried he’s already grown tired of it,” you reply. Guilt immediately sheds your pettiness. You know you shouldn’t have said that. Though, he did egg you on. How could he have expected to bring up such a subject and think that you wouldn’t retaliate?

Taehyung tenses and shifts his jaw, giving the impression that he’s chewing gum, and turns to glare at you. From experience alone, you know very well that when Taehyung chews on his imaginary piece of gum, he’s either cocky, pissed or both. This time he has tears glassing over his eyes. Shame cringes your heart. You can’t bring yourself to look at him again. Getting even does not feel as dignifying as you thought it would. You cannot even find a shred of pleasure in seeing him so speechless.

Parting your lips, you try to soothe the sting of your words, only they all fall short. Every time you try to recollect them, they wither away. It’s almost like your mind is warning you from worsening the situation. But the silence is deafening. Sinatra's voice cannot even fill it. His disappointment is too loud; the shattering of his heart like an explosion. And your pain can never shut up. All you can hear is how miserable your soul is and how depressed your heart becomes upon every glance his way. It’s the soft look in his eyes, even when he’s glaring, and the little scrunch of his nose.

With a deep breath, you turn back to the sculpture to keep your hands busy. As you use the pad of your pinkie to smoothen out the stretch mark lines you’ve carved, you say, “We had a drink. That’s as far as we got.”

Taehyung clears his throat. His hands pick up where they left off around the nipple. “Had I known you were out, I wouldn’t have called,” he sighs.

You try not to scoff, particularly because he sounds surprisingly sincere. Sneaking a glance up at him from your squatting position on the floor, you try to search for his usual tell-tale signs. He always blinks one too many times in the same two minute span when he’s lying, that’s if he’ll even meet your gaze. He’s already looking at you when you begin to search his features. He holds your stare and you start to worry that you wrongfully cursed him before when you were convinced that he knew.

“You really didn’t know?”

He shakes his head. “Why would anyone tell me you’re going on a date?”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

“Would you want to hear that I have been on one?”

“Have you?”

Internally cringing, you snap your attention back on the sculpture. The question simply slipped out. He must know that. Of course you’re curious about his love life since you’ve left it, but you don’t need him to know that. And even if he was prying into your date tonight, you still don’t feel comfortable with him knowing that you’ve been wondering about him too, worrying that he’s found the love of his life and forgotten all about you.

Taehyung chuckles. “Do you really want to know?”

Three? Four? Five? How many dates did he have to go on to be able to ask such a question? You hold your breath the moment you feel your next intake waver. Running your tongue between the gaps of your teeth, you stand up and begin detailing the left breast.

“I’m not going to beg you,” you grumble under your breath while sculpting the nipple. Your eyes shift from the one you're working on to the one he perfected, making sure they’re at least even.

“Never had a problem with that before.”

He does not mutter it. He does not whisper it. He chuckles through the statement, cockiness dripping from his tone. Shooting him a glare, you find his jaw moving, the imaginary gum returning. Taehyung smirks at you, eyes dancing over your features like he’s figured you all out.

You raise your brows at him, lips slightly parted by a little smile. “Once again, Taehyung, your memory has miserably failed you,” you start only to widen his grin.

“How so?”

“You’ve been on your knees far more times than I’ve been on mine. You’ve whined louder too.”

He leans in, wrist against his stomach as he lets out a hearty laugh. You feel a rush of your arousal pool at your core just from the simple sound. Face growing hot, you realize how much you’ve missed this, missed him. He always laughed with his whole body, clutching onto you when clutching on his stomach never granted him any stability. Sometimes he’d brace his teeth in a boxy smile and let out his deep chuckles that way. So endearing, so cute, Taehyung would always loop you in his laughing fit as well.

Biting on the sides of your cheeks, you keep yourself from joining in this time. “Why is that so funny?”

Taehyung shakes his head at you as his laughter dies down. With a smile still gracing his features, he replies, “You’re always begging for me. Oh, I remember once you were on the table and you won’t let go of me and until I, and I quote, ‘rammed into you with the force of a thousand waterfalls.’”

Shit. You remember that day all too clearly. Taehyung had been painting and you were somewhere in the kitchen sketching his hands from a distance since he would always tease you about that. Somehow you found out he’d been painting you nude from memory and wanted to help him out. You began stripping for him, inching closer with every piece of clothing you shed. He watched you draw closer to him, and there was something about the way his eyes drank you in that you could not shake. It just made you giddy all over, dripping for his love by the time you were fully naked and within his reach. You were so horny, you said anything to make sure he ruined you.

Avoiding his eye, you reluctantly reply, “I do not recall.”

That statement tips him off immediately. His endearing innocence darkens; you don’t even need to look over to witness it happen. You can feel it. You can feel his demeanour change. Taehyung sets whatever tool he’s using down and towers over you. Stilling in place, you let him graze the bridge of his nose in your hair.

“Do you want me to remind you,” he whispers before pressing his lips to your ear, adding, “my muse?”

Knees all but trembling, you have to remind yourself to keep your eyes open. His warm breath fans over your skin, prickling goosebumps all over. His fingertips brush up the length of your spine, streaking your back with clay and leaving a chain of shiver in their wake. Then there’s that little pet name. Your soul shudders to hear it again while your core waters.

What does he even mean? How far is he willing to go to remind you how badly you wanted him?

Breath shaky, you gingerly meet his gaze. Noses brushing, you try to ignore how good he smells. His scent is always a cross between chalky clay and citrusy cherries. A whine threatens to slip out and you have to swallow thickly just to silence it. “You can try,” you whisper only to feel his hands on your hips.

The grey clay stains the hem of your black pants and a majority of your skin. Taehyung turns you towards him then presses himself against you. His semi-hard rubs against your stomach, making him groan. Seems like he’s falling apart faster than you are. Did he miss this too? Miss the way you smell, the way it feels to be near you again?

You rest your arms on his shoulders and he guides you around and back to his work table. It’s almost like a little dance, with the quiet music still playing in the background. Faces only a breath apart, the temptation to kiss him only grows. But giving in would only prove him right. After so many months, you cannot grant him this victory of being right, especially since he was the one in the wrong when you left.

When the back of your thighs meet the edge of the table, Taehyung shifts his hands down to your ass, gripping tightly and he lifts you up against him and onto the table. You have to choke back a moan just from the rough grip. Your lips brush against each other’s, but neither one of you is willing to bite the bullet first.

“Any of this familiar yet?” Taehyung asks. His voice is almost an octave deeper, saturated in lust and desire.

Smirking, you shake your head.

Taehyung tongues his cheek and cocks a brow. He leans back a bit, hands circling around your waist to rest on your thick thighs. His cocky grin widens as he pushes them further apart. One of his hands shifts up to your crotch, thumb grazing the seams. Face lighting up, Taehyung glances down at your crotch and brushes over it once more.

“No panites?” He questions with a chuckle. “This is looking more and more like that night then I thought it would.”

The confidence he oozes should annoy you, but you find yourself only spreading your legs further for him. Whenever he’s acting this egotistic, you cannot help but respond to it by giving yourself to him. This is a fact he knows well and uses to his advantage any time he’s ever felt like it.

You try to keep your wits about you, saying, “I wouldn’t know.”

Taehyung suddenly leans in. Your breath hitches at the realization that he’s swallowing his pride, that he’s finally going to kiss you. You’ve been dreaming about his lips for months, wondering how you’d be able to find someone else who just fits ever so perfectly against your lips. Eyes fluttering closed, lips in a faint pucker, you’ve inhaled deeply only to have him kiss your chin. He chuckles quietly against your skin, licking his way to your jawline all while leaving you breathless.

“You’re about to,” he growls.

As your body is in the midst of reacting, he somehow digs his nails into the seams of your pants and tears them apart. You gasp, shifting your hands from his shoulder to the edge of the table. You cannot help but stare down at the tear in amazement. Questions on how and why die in your throat when you find that Taehyung’s attention is not even on you anymore. He’s tightening his grip on your thighs and gazes down at your pussy. It pulses under his gaze, much to his own amazement.  

Squatting down, he licks his lips at this new angle. “Well, fuck,” he whispers. “How long have you needed me?”

Four months, you wish you had the courage to say. Instead you breathlessly reply, “I’m not sure this is what happened that night.”

“How would you know? I thought you didn’t remember.”

He’s only teasing but his tone is accusatory. You already know it’s because you’ve refused to answer his previous question. And your decision to talk back only adds to his shift in demeanour.  Once cheeky, his features darken into something closer to vexation. You’ve pushed the wrong buttons it would seem.

Narrowing his eyes, he orders, “Tell me, my muse. Tell me how long you’ve been needing me.”

You suck in a sharp breath. Pressing your lips together in a fine line, you refuse to make another sound, let alone utter another word. You’ll be damned if you have to admit that you regret walking away, that you cannot even remember the details of your date because all you could think about was everything he would do differently. Having to admit that for the last four months all you’ve been able to do is touch yourself to the thought of him or cry wouldn’t just be motifying but shameful and pathetic.

With a slow nod, Taehyung sighs. You think this is it. He’s ripped your pants apart, looked at every inch of your barest part, and teased you all for nothing. You’d maybe ask to borrow some pants, and he might give you some. But, other than that, nothing would’ve come from this interaction. The flirty comments and knowing looks would disappear with your relationship, this you feel you are sure of.

Then, he plays against your expectations; something you should have expected. Just when you’re about to bring your legs together, Taehyung spreads them apart further and shoves his face between them. He cannot use his hands there since they are covered in clay and, it seems, he also refuses to use his tongue. You cannot hold back the moans that pour out of you with every ministration. Merely smearing his face into your heat, Taehyung teases your clit. The bridge of his nose trails between your folds, lips pressing wet kisses to your tightening hole. From left to right, he shakes his face against your pussy.

You buck your hips against his lips, lacking shame and restraint. “Tae,” you moan, voice breaking.

Taehyung pulls away. Heaving and eyes half-lidded, he smirks up at you. He’s drenched in your arousal, looking like the cat who got the cream. “How long?” He mewls.

“Gimme your tongue,” you whine.

Taehyung mockly pouts up at you. He always looks prettiest on his knees, pretending to be in charge from such a degrading position. “Would you tell me then, babe?”

Your hips inadvertently roll at the pet name. You love it when he babies you like that, when he makes you feel so precious and fragile even though you both know you can rule over anything you want. Hesitantly, you nod. He raises a brow, waiting for verbal confirmation that you’ll tell him once he gives you his tongue.

With a little shrug of a single shoulder, you reply, “Why don’t you give it a try, TaeTae.”

His left eye twitches. You know exactly how that name affects him. His anger and powerful demeanor tremble when you dwell on him like that. He doesn’t need to tell you that he’s suddenly yours to overtake; his large eyes do the trick.

Swiping his tongue over his lips, Taehyung cleans his mouth from you. One little taste and his pupils expand, blown by lust and hunger. You don’t have to waste anymore time convincing him that you’d answer his question if he goes down on you. Your taste seems to be enough of a factor, in itself. He dips his head back in, tongue out this time. The tip pushes through your hole, lapping up your pooling juices. Leaning back on your hands, you gasp a loud moan. He knows his way around so well. One flick up, and your toes are curling. No amount of time apart has disturbed his memory of you. This may have been something you noticed while sculpting but now you can feel it. Tongue in and out, warm and wet, Taehyung explores your pussy like it’s his first time, only he knows everything about it.

You want to tangle your fingers in his hair, to see how the long strands feel in your hand, but they’re covered in clay too. And you know from experience just how hard it is to get clay out of hair. Once it completely dries, it almost seems like the only other option is to cut it all out. So, instead, you just dig your nails into the table, engraving your presence in the wood.

Rolling your hips into his face, you cry out your pleasure. Your legs are shaking, squeezing around his face, but he can’t seem to care any less. In fact, judging by his groans and growls, he seems to love the suffocation. He even pushes your legs further against his cheeks. Freezing in place, Taehyung only allows his tongue to continue to swirl around your pussy. His fingers harshly press into your thighs, sure to leave bruises, but you don’t care. Having him mark you up just like when you were together, is enough to make your eyes roll back.

You’re so, so close. Pussy clenching, his tongue still pushes its way in. He’s determined to see you through, to have you unfold right in his hands so hard that he still won’t breathe. And though you start to worry a bit, you cannot really pay attention to anything else besides the pleasure.

“Oh, Tae,” you cry. Voice breathy and high-pitched, it’s only a matter of time before-

It hits you hard, fast, and completely off guard. You have felt it growing and knotting in the pit of your stomach, but have no idea it would rush at you this harshly that you completely fall back on the table. Body convulsing, you scream and cream all over his tongue, mouth, and chin. His entire face will smell like you for days.

Taehyung forces your tightening legs apart, gasping for air. Gazing up at you, he sticks his tongue out and against your clit. He’s determined to help you ride out your high and nods his head up and down. You watch him through blurry vision, shamelessly rocking your hips up to meet him halfway. Or, at least you try to. Soon, you become all too sensitive to even hold his gaze, let alone grind against his tongue.

You fight against his hold on your legs, whining loudly. “Okay, okay,” you gasp as you try to seat yourself up.

He doesn’t care. That once yielding look in his eyes flashes into a demanding one. Seeing you so helpless under him shocks him with power once again. “One more time,” he pants against your heat.

“TaeTae,” you mewl, attempting to manipulate your way out of this overstimulated feast.

However, the use of the name this time, only spurs him on. He knows what you’re trying to do and doesn’t at all find it amusing. This time when he repeats his words, he growls, “One more time!”

Lips suctioning around your clit, he harshly sucks. Slurping and swallowing everything you have to offer, Taehyung holds your gaze. You’re a trembling mess. Tears falling freely down your face, you curse him three times over and buck your hips against his mouth. He finds the entire sight so humorous, he can’t help but smirk.

You’re still his little toy, a play thing for him to fool around with and test out some kinks on. The realization should make you curse him again and again, but you can only play into it. Pouting and mewling, you’ve fully sold yourself out just so Taehyung is well fed with your juices.

This is the peak of his games, you think. This is as far as he will go and you expect that you’ll cum in another minute or so. But then his teeth graze your clit once, twice, three times. You come undone within seconds. Arching your back, you let out the neediest cry you’ve ever heard and pathetically cum against his chin. The shudders and shivers of your body are beyond your control, as is your broken voice and any lasting grip you thought you had on reality.

As if biting and sucking your clit isn’t mindbreaking enough, Taehyung dips his tongue back in you to sneak another taste. “Taehyung, please,” you beg. “Please!”

He finally lets up, removing his face from your sopping heat and releasing his hold on your legs. You instantly bring them together and hug them into your chest. Heaving and shedding your last few tears, you try to recompose yourself and the silent atmosphere you once shared while sculpting.

“Strange,” he starts, returning to his feet. He takes his hands in yours, slowly unwrapping the hug you’ve cocooned yourself in. “It sounds a lot like that night. But, that’s not at all what I was doing then to make you this needy.”

To anyone else, you would've looked fucked out and completely ruined. But Taehyung knows that’s not at all the case. He has tested your stamina enough to know that you can most likely go for another round or two. Pulling your legs apart, he stands between them then helps sit you back up.

Faces inches away, you exchange breaths. “How long have you been this needy, my muse?” He asks again.

He really does smell like you. His cheeks, nose, chin, and lips are smeared with your cum. It doesn’t even look like he was feasting. It almost looks like he just wanted to cover his face with your juices. Gulping, you consider his question. You did insinuate that you’d answer the question if he gave you his tongue. And, holy fuck, did he give it to you. However, an insinuation is not a promise. He made that clear during your last argument.

“I don’t remember promising anything,” you whisper in a light pant.

The pain in his eyes cannot be neither mistaken nor missed. Echoing his words all these months later, surely recalls suppressed emotions of misery and betrayal for the both of you. He sneers a smirk, glaring at your lips. “Your memory has failed you,” he hisses. Gripping onto your hips, marking you there with bruises as well, he adds, “But, I won’t.”

“Not again, anyway.”

You sound colder than he does which causes him to hesitate for a moment. His hands fall by his sides as he searches your face for some sort of confirmation to continue. He almost seems like he’s not sure if he really wants to pick up where he left off too, seeing that you’re still upset with him. The guilt of seeing him so fragile and wounded eats away the majority of your anger. But, if he thinks he’s the only one struggling to make sense of this break up, he’s wrong.

Right now, the only way you can think of showing that to him is by first displaying your eagerness to continue in this sexual stroll down memory lane. You lean forward, brushing the tip of your nose against his, and reach down to his crotch. The dent in his jumpsuit throbs in your hand. His hard cock all but pulses under your palm as you rub at it. His breath hitches. You then untie the sleeves of his jumpsuit and watch carefully as his cock comes back into view. Fuck, you’ve forgotten just how pretty it is when it’s all pink tipped and desperate to be pumped. He shifts a bit, you assume to step out of the jumpsuit, and resettles his hands back on your waist.

Not another moment of uncertainty stands between you anymore. Swallowing his pride, Taehyung kisses you first. Lips on lips, the taste of yourself on his tongue has you moaning already. He  seems to take this as a sign to let himself go as well. He pulls you closer to the edge of the table and rolls his hips into yours. The length of his dick rubs between your folds, but he doesn’t enter. Not yet. He simply teases the idea of entering, of ruining you.

But, you’re too overstimulated to enjoy it in its entirety. Your legs resume their little shudders at the tiniest bit of friction when his cock just happens to brush against your clit. Taehyung, upon noticing this, makes sure to touch it with every new grind against you. He smirks when you whimper into his mouth and chuckles a bit when you break the kiss to whine his name.

“What is it, baby,” he coos. He grounds his hips harder into yours, erupting moans from the both of you. “Ah, shit, I could just cum like this,” he hisses as his mouth hovers over yours.

A little smirk tugs on your lips at his words. Yes, you may be helplessly falling apart with every passing second. However, watching him come undone from the impression of your pussy against his cock, is a rather prideful moment. You tilt your head and begin peppering his chin and cheeks with open mouthed kisses, staining his face with your saliva now as well as your cum.

“Then, just cum, TaeTae,” you whine.

Perhaps if you didn’t sound so desperate, he probably would’ve switched back into his own submissive state. But, it’s the squeal in your voice and mischief in your tone that only drives him further down his power trip. He pulls away a bit, holding your horny gaze with an unimpressed one of his own. He realigns his hips as his jaw shifts. He’s pretending to chew gum again. Holy shit, he’s going to fuck you senseless.

He does not push into you though. Instead, he pulls you onto him by the deadly grip he has on your hips. You stare up at him as a loud cry escapes you with every inch that stretches your walls. Taehyung looks back with very little remorse in his eyes. The sight of you so small in his arms, whipped for his cock, makes his tip twitch a bit. But he is not immune to the action of entering you, sucking in a sharp breath.

“I can’t believe I forgot how tight you were,” he whispers, voice breaking.

And you thought you could never forget how big he is, but here you are. Eyes rolling back, you relish in his size like it the first time. “Big,” you mewl as he bottoms out. “Tae, you’re so big.”  You sound just as broken as he does.

He cannot even find it in him to be cocky about it. He hears the realization in your voice. He knows you’ve forgotten too. A flash of pain twinkles in his eyes. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and whisper. “Remind me, Taehyung.” His brows quirk up and you add, “Remind me how good you make me feel. And I’ll remind you the same.”

Taehyung presses a gentle kiss on your forehead. Then, his hips snap in action. Holding you close, he starts hard and fast. He’s naked and growling into your ear with every thrust. You’re clothed and whining with every rumble of his chest and jerk of his hips. You didn’t even have to beg to bring out such a feral side of him. Could it be that he’s looking for the same thing you are? A lost lover?

Clay smeared fingers pressing into his skin, you push away that thought and scratch at his back. That once blank canvas of muscle and skin will now be lined with your lov- lust. This is just lust. You have to remind yourself of this fact every time he pushes into you.

He quietly hisses with each streak until he pauses his thrusts. You pout, leaning back a bit to ask if anything is wrong. But before you can even part your lips, Taehyung is readjusting his grip from your hips to your tube top.

“You’re a fucking slut to dress like this for him,” he growls. Then, in one swift motion, he pulls it down. You gasp as your breasts spill out, not out of exposure, but simply shock. He grips onto the rolled down top and smirks. “They’re a little uneven,” he points out. “But, I like that about them. Does he too? Does he get to see you like this, slut?”

You’ve got it wrong. It’s not your use of his nickname that has sent him spiralling into a pit of dominance, but rather that you went out to see another man. Is that why he ripped your pants apart? He’s destroying the outfit he thinks you wore for somebody else. Not only that, but his words only confirm that he is indeed sculpting you. All from memory, Taehyung has been molding your naked body down to the precise imperfection of your slightly uneven breasts.

And while you’re still trying to make sense of it all, he slaps one of them causing you to moan and throw your head back. Taehyung grabs a hold of your chin and drags your head back down to meet his gaze. “Answer me,” he seethes. “How much of you does he have?”

“None!” You shout. Your breathing is uneven, and you have to swallow the lump in your throat to continue, “I don’t even remember his name; he’s irrelevant.”

Taehyung circles his hips around yours, clearly pleased with your reply. But he does not pick up where he left off. “You haven’t been able to remember a lot tonight. Is that all irrelevant to you too?”

The shake of your head is reactive. You barely even had to think about it. This act of pretending that you don’t feel anything for him anymore has clearly fallen. “That’s not it, Taehyung,” you whine, hooking a leg around his waist. He wipes the tears streaming down your face as you continue, “I just didn’t want to remember us.”

Licking his lips, Taehyung slowly pulls out and eases himself back in. You tremble, watery eyes twitching in bliss. “Tell me how long you’ve been needy, baby,” he whispers.

“Have I not said enough already?”

You clutch onto his biceps and buck your hips up to meet his. He gasps, unable to hide his smile. You can tell he wants to finish this conversation but, with the way your walls are tightening around him, he doesn’t seem like he’s able to. One look in his eyes and you can tell he’s consumed by the pleasure all too much to reply.

Taehyung lets one hand fall to his side when he starts to pick up his pace. You shift one of your hands to his shoulders while the other holds onto the table’s edge. He holds you by the grip he has on your rolled tube top and smacks his hips against yours. It’s almost as if he’s riding a horse with the way he’s fucking you. And if you don’t whine loud enough, he’d slap each of your tits and force those screams out of you, growling, “You can do better than that.”

Removing your hands off him and back to the table, you accidentally rest your hand on one of his palettes. You gasp, looking over to find your hand smeared with blue and yellow hues. Taehyung laughs and rams into you faster. “You’re just making a mess wherever you go, hmm?” he teases.

You pout. He’s having too much fun making a mockery of you. Granted, you’re loving the attention, the way he’s fucking you into submission and realization, but you cannot let all this go to his head too much. As he smacks your breasts once more, nipples a little raw as they sting, you wipe your hand on him, down from his cheek to his collarbone.

He gasps, but his hips never stutter. Before you can even register his actions, Taehyung readjusts his grip from your top to your breasts and shoves his face between them. He transfers the swirl of dark blue and gold all over you as he fucks you as senseless as you predicted.

And as he playfully punishes you, blowing raspberries into your chest, you find yourself missing this, missing him. How could you have forgotten he likes to get playful, that he can switch between his two demeanours so seamlessly? He giggles when he pushes your breast into his face and further stains them with paint.

“The only one making a mess is you,” you rush to whine as your impending orgasm nears.

Dipping your hand in more paint, you rub the colours on his back and shoulders. You’re going to colour him yours if this is the last thing the two of you do together. Paint on his skin, in his hair, all over him, you’re going to make your impression here last through all the moans and whines and lewd slouches of your sensitive wetness around him.

Taehyung kisses his way up to your lips. He slips his tongue in once he reaches them and rolls his hips into you particularly harder than before. He can feel that he’s got you trailing the edge of your high. Thrust upwards, Taehyung reaches your most sensitive place. Every ram into it makes you shudder, toes curling and moans pouring into his mouth. One of his hands shifts up to your breast, massaging the smeared paint in, while the other holds your hips in place.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whines against your lips. “Come back to me.”

He can’t do this. He can’t beg you to come back with his dick shoved so deep in you like this. You’re so fucking close and he knows this. He can feel every inch of you tighten around him and desperate to be released. It’s cruel of him to manipulate you like this, to kiss you like he’s lost in the moment when he’s really just lost in you.

Kissing his way to your ear, Taehyung feels your pussy quiver. He smirks, thrusting hard enough to move the table back, and growls in your ear, “Come back to me, my muse. Cum.”

You fall back onto the table, body a total shaking shock as your orgasm washes over every inch of you. With one hand trembling over your lips, your other grabs onto one of your tits in an effort to brace yourself from the rush of ecstasy that overcomes you. The moans and whines that leave you are no exception to your convulsing state. Their breathless, broken, and blaring as you practically scream out in bliss.

Taehyung enjoys the show, watching you forget how to breathe from his place between your legs. He’s still going fast and hard, groaning when he feels you coat his cock in your cum. Mesmerized by the sight of your unheld breast bouncing with each of his thrust, he slaps it. You squeal at the sting.

And as you try to look at him, still riding out your orgasm, Taehyung’s cock twitches only to paint your inner walls with his missed affections. He falls forward, over you, burying his face between your tits again. You push them into his face and shake them against his cheeks, hearing him growl over your heart.

At some point, he stops thrusting and opts to circling his hips into yours. It’s all the same to you. Your legs continue to shake and your heart still races. Drenched in sweat, paint, and clay, you two lie there for a second longer. Even while growing limp, Taehyung feels so full in you.

He peels himself off you. His face, glistening in paint, looks like Van Gogh’s starry night, his eyes being the sparkling stars. He smirks down at you before trailing his gaze lower. That smile falls with every part of you he realizes he has ruined. Your chest is exposed and covered in colours, shirt non existent, pants clay stained and torn straight down the middle, and pussy a sopping mess of your mixed cum when he pulls out.

“I did make a mess,” he pants.

One step back, then two, then three. He distances himself from you as if ashamed of his work. You slowly sit up and cross your legs. Already, they feel strained and sore. But, they’re the least of your worries. It's the way that Taehyung winces at the sight of you, that has your heart somersaulting into your stomach. You swallow thickly between heaving pants and watch him carefully. He’s completely bare and looks even more broke than you do. His gaze looks vague and face sickly. Shaking his head, Taehyung runs a hand through his hair. He looks so annoyed with himself, he cannot even find it in him to laugh at the fact that he only got more paint in his hair.

Crossing your arms over your chest to cover yourself up a bit, you say, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

He blinks repeatedly, snapping his attention back up at you. “Why aren’t you disturbed by this?” He questions, voice all but breaking.

Your eyes scan up and down his frame before your brows knit together in confusion. Is he referring to his naked body, or that the two of you just came to the thought of dating each other again? Still, why is either of those things worth being disturbed over? A naked Taehyung post sex has never been a bad sight and, though things did end horribly, the thought of being with him again doesn’t seem so bad now. Did he not mean it when he asked you to come back? Was it just something to get off to? Are you just something to get off to?

“What?” You whisper now that your anxious train of thought has robbed your voice.

“Aren’t you dating?” He clarifies. “That poor guy. I can’t believe I just let us do that.”

You’ve never seen him this distressed. He walks back to you, just to grab his jumpsuit and briefs. He can’t even bear to look at you as you stare back at him in complete confusion. What does he think happened here? That you cheated? Clenching your jaw, you can't believe that he could think that low of you. Then again, you never did blatantly say that it was your first date since the break up. In fact, now that you think about it, you did make it seem like you were in a relationship with someone else.

Taehyung hastily gets dressed as you try to hop off the table without falling on your face from how weak your legs are after such a fucking. “Tae,” you start only to have him walk away. With a sigh, you call after him. He ignores you.

What the hell are you supposed to do now? You sure as hell can’t follow him with your legs so sore and he doesn’t seem to want to talk to you. And even if you could walk, your clothes are ruined and it would take a while for an uber to get here with all the snow coming down out there. The distant spray of the shower directs your attention to the hallway Taehyung escaped down to get away from you. Great, he’s showering and left you here to figure this all out yourself.

Taking a seat on the floor, you decide to give your legs a moment to rest before ordering yourself an uber and hoping that this night ends soon. You should’ve listened to your gut and rejected his call. You shouldn’t have agreed to this, or come here, or let him remind you just how much you miss and love him. All you ever wanted was- is him. If it haven’t been for this whole stupid issue about moving in, you’d still have him.

But, no. You had to force him into a step he wasn’t ready for. You lost him then and you came back to watch yourself lose him again. Is that it? Is that why you didn’t even explain yourself to the poor guy that was sitting across from you at Rollos. Yes, Rollos; that’s where you went for drinks. Wow, your memory really hasn’t served you well tonight. You hope you forget this tomorrow. You hope you'll be able to forget how pathetic you feel, how hurt he sounds, and how you lost him all over again.

“Get up,” Taehyung orders. His voice is rough, like he had been sobbing.

Looking over to him, you find that could’ve actually been the case. His face is tear streaked now as well as paint smeared. He stands a good few feet away from you, glaring down at your woefully ruined frame. “Taehyung, I’m not-”

He doesn’t seem to want to hear any of it. “Get up,” he repeats. “Go shower. I have some clothes for you to wear then I’m taking you home.”

“Tae, just liste-”

“Delete my number. We never talk about this again. And if you’re at all like the person I loved, you’d tell him the truth.”

Is he seriously judging you right now? You’ve barely even had a chance to explain yourself. He really doesn’t want to listen to anything you have to say, cutting you off like you’re less than him. You cannot help but scoff at him and his words.

Taehyung sighs. “Just please get up, (Y/N).”

“I’m not dating anyone.”

His superiority falls. The life returns to his face as he approaches you but you recoil into yourself the moment he steps forward. Pausing, he tilts his head at you. “What is it?”

What is it? This man is going to be the death of you. “You just shamed me for something that wasn’t true, Taehyung!” You shout.

“I thought you were cheating with me!”

You use the table to help yourself up and dryly chuckle. “Ha, yeah because lying is such a normal thing to do, right? I’m as twisted as you, Taehyung.”

“I lied because I knew saying no would hurt you. Why can’t you see that I was just looking out for you?”

That one sentence makes you freeze in place. Is he really that fucking dense? He can’t seriously believe that looking out for someone you love involves lying. Slowly turning to face him, you don't even make an effort to hide your tears anymore. “You were looking out for yourself and you know it!”

“I just didn’t-”

“Want to grow tired of me.” You finish for him in a mocking tone.

Taehyung huffs, shaking his head. “That’s not what I was going to say. Would you just let me finish?”

You’re done with this stupid conversation. All you want to do is go home and get as far away as possible from him and the way he smells and the fact that even though you hate him so much right now, you want him to come and hug you and tell you everything is going to be okay. But, he’s just so annoying. And you can’t bear to look at him anymore with that cold glare consistently being directed towards you. You’ll wait outside for the uber. Hell, you’ll just walk back to your apartment. Anything to get out of here and away from him.

In an attempt to follow through, you try to make your way towards the door, but your legs almost instantly give out.

“Jesus, babe,” Taehyung hisses, rushing to your side.

It’s not even just the fact that you’re sore but your ripped pants are starting to rub up against your cum leaking pussy. You whine a bit and try to shake him off in order to jump back onto the table. But, you’re thankful he stays by your side because you definitely cannot get up there alone with your lacking upper body strength.

His hands linger on your thighs, softening eyes locked on yours. A hint of a smirk plays on his lips before he says, “I remember doing this to you often.”

Yes, leaving you limping around the apartment was his favourite pastimes. He liked to watch you struggle to walk after every intimate moment. In fact, he always felt like he didn’t do his job right if you’re not limping. He’d go ten times rougher the next time around and then cuddle you to his chest, cooing reassurances in your ear. Was it bad that you wanted that all the time? That you wanted to sleep and wake up in the same bed he does everyday?

Slow tears roll down your face as you take his hand art stained in yours. “It was my first date since our break up,” you confess. “Sumni asked for your number… and for permission to go out with you. I just felt a little hurt that you were moving on.”

“She called.”

Your heart has shattered too many times tonight to even react to his words, but you can feel your soul shudder. She called. And did he answer? Did he have a drink with her too? You want to ask but your pride swallows your questions whole. All you can bring yourself to say is, “She’s a nice girl.”

He nods. Squeezing your hand, Taehyung wraps his arm loosely around your waist and stands in front of you. “I told her I wasn’t really ready to see anyone else yet,” he tells you, pressing himself against you.

The gesture is not at all sexual and you do not interpret it as such. Rather, it is tender and comforting. He releases his hold on your hand to wipe your tears, letting his own fall. Licking his lips, he whispers, “What’s his name?”

You shrug.

“Come on,” he half-heartedly nudges your legs. “Tell me.”

Does he think you’re trying to spare his feelings? Meeting his gaze, you can’t help but smile. He looks so cute, so precious in front of you. Playing with his hand, your fingers looping around his, you reply, “I don’t remember. I only spoke to him for half an hour or something.”

He cannot hide his smile, but avoids your gaze. Even still, you can see the relief within them. He seems to be pleased that you’re just as miserable as he is, pining after someone you cannot have any more.

“Is that why you came over?”

You shake your head before you can even think the action through. And the words leave your lips just the same, “I just missed you.”

“I really missed you too,” he croaks, rushing to say the words like he can’t believe them himself. “God, I’ve just wanted you back for so long.”

He’s all but sobbing in front of you. Parting your lips, you’re about to tell him that he doesn’t have you, not yet anyways. The fact is that he still lied, and has continued to lie to manipulate you. This cannot be forgiven so easily. You love and miss him dearly, but surely you cannot just take him back without discussing the cause of your break up first.

But then, Taehyung burrows his face into the crook of your neck and lets himself fall apart. Hugging you close, he cries into your skin. You cannot hold back the sob that tears through your throat just from the mere sound of his choked breaths and wet tears against you.

“I’m so sorry,” he cries as you cradle his head. “I’m sorry.”

The broken tone of his voice is enough to make you whimper into his hair. He sounds so fragile. This break up, you realize, has torn him inside out too. Pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, you try to console both of your fears. But every sob trembles your courage and every drop of his tears makes you recoil in guilt and shame. How could you have done this to him, to your relationship?

He shudders a breath as he pulls away. Red in the face, wet streaks staining his painted cheeks, he cups his hands under your jaw and says, “Look, you can move in right now, okay? Alright? I’ll get your things tomorrow. I’ll give you Jungkook’s key. He only comes here to steal our food anyways.” Just stay, please (Y/N).”

His voice is shaky and tone all but heartbreaking as he chuckles at his own little joke. The desperation is real and hard to deny. You cannot even open your mouth to even voice your reservations about dating again. Clutching onto his jumpsuit, you try to revert your gaze to your lap in hopes to find your courage and tell him that you need to talk first. Only, Taehyung dips his head low to catch your eyes again. He’s determined to have you stay. And your silence only provokes more tears.

“I promise I’ll never tell another lie,” he sobs. “I promise I’ll never let my worries get in between us again. Please, baby, just please stay. Say that you’ll stay.”

You cannot watch this for another moment longer. There’s lots you still have left to discuss, like why he’s so worried about growing tired of you, and why he felt the need to lie in the first place. But his promise to never do it again is enough for now. And you just can’t sit here watching him cry any longer. You pull him towards you, pepper his cheeks with gentle kisses then cradle his head.

“I’m not going anywhere, Tae,” you mutter into his hair. “Mostly because I can’t.”

Your attempt at a joke causes him to choke out a chuckle. He showers the crook of your neck with wet kisses, muttering into your skin, “I love you.”

Rapturing in a relieved frenzy, your nerves dance within your bloodstream and repair your ruptured heart. You let out a deep breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. “I love you too,” you cry.

The last four months haven’t granted you a shred of peace. You’ve lived and re-lived that argument over and over again, praying you can just go back and fix it all there and then. But, maybe… maybe it all needed to fall apart to fall back into place. Maybe it needed to rupture to rapture.

tags: @miinoongi​, @jenotation​, @allannahmalik​, @taeshuworld​

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

[itsthesinbin]

Art Block (Leviathan/GN!Reader)

Joined the Devildom Den yesterday when they were accepting people and already a good writing prompt came out of it :)

Leviathan’s a good artist, but has some Very Specific Poses he needs that he can’t find very good references for, leading to a bad case of art block. You, of course, offer your services.

@devildom-den

If you like it, reblog it please!

Warnings: Suggestive (but not nsft), but otherwise no warning needed.

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Ever since you found out about Leviathan’s art hobby, you’d almost demand to see his finished pieces. Not that it would take much convincing. Leviathan was more than happy to share his art with someone who was enthusiastic about his work!

Recently, though, Leviathan had hit a harsh art block. It seemed everything he tried to draw looked terrible! You tried to assure him otherwise, but the sketches would always be deleted or thrown out after your conversations.

“Ugh- it just… It just feels like I can’t even draw a fucking hand anymore, let alone the actual body,” Leviathan vented to you one day while you were both playing Minecraft. You were both in his room of course, just on different platforms. You took his console because you wanted to veg on the beanbags, while he was on his computer off behind you. You leaned back, looking at his upside down form from your seat. His brows were furrowed in frustration as he was furiously fighting off a skeleton.

You sat back up, blinking as the blood that had rushed to your head went back into the rest of you. You hummed softly as you thought, going back to building your little house.

“Well… poses are fucking you up, right? Do you want me to model for you so you can get the exact poses you want?” You heard him stop playing, his chair creaking as it turned. When you moved to look at him properly, he was staring directly at you. His cheeks were flushed ever so slightly, but he had an excited look on his face.

“You’d let me-?! Really?!” You snickered slightly, nodding your confirmation. Leviathan immediately abandoned the game, saving real quick so you two would have your progress for later. He began babbling to you, telling you he had to get a couple costumes out for you to wear and pose in. You sighed, amused, as you turned off the console. Guess game time would happen later.

You stood up, nearly falling over from how hard he shoved the first costume into your hands. You laughed a little as you headed to change. Leviathan grabbed his phone, making sure there was enough space to take as many pictures as he needed. He had quite a few poses in mind, and you knew you were in for a Time.

“Okay- just like this-!” He handed you a sword- thankfully it was fake and light enough for you to hold- and positioned you exactly how he wanted. Sword pointed to the ground, with your hands resting on the hilt. He tilted your head down, and asked you to look up at him through your lashes. You could see a tint of red on his cheeks again, but he moved back to take the photos.

You heard the shutter click a few times, before he came back to reposition you. He moved you so you were in mid-swing, hands shaking slightly as he held your waist to move your torso as needed. You couldn’t help but glance at him, and he was pointedly Not Looking At Your Face.

More pictures were taken, and he let you move for a minute. Suddenly, a grin spread across his face as he dashed over to his closet. After pulling out another costume, he let out a “BRB” as he ran to change. You couldn’t help but snicker slightly at his enthusiasm. It was always so cute watching him.

“Alright- I need some duo poses! Just follow my lead!” He set his camera on the longest timer, coming over to you. He had your sword against his, seeming like you were clashing weapons. He towered over you, having you lean back as if he was starting to over power you. He fought back the urge to move away as the shutter went off.

“Okay! Now I need one where you’re, uh…” Leviathan trailed off, eyes widening as he realized what he was about to ask you to do. He stuttered, curling in on himself nervously. You looked up at him with a small smile, knowing he was trying to work up the nerve to ask you for the next post.

“I need you to, uh… To stand ov- over me… like you’ve beat me in a fight-” he finally got out, cheeks bright red as he went to set the timer. You nodded, moving to let him get into position first. He laid on his back, sprawled out as if he was knocked onto his back. You stepped forward, grinning mischievously as you took your spot over him.

Without waiting for him to make a comment, you planted your foot on his chest. His breath hitched as you pointed the tip of your sword against his neck. With a tilt of the weapon, his head was lifted ever so lightly. His adam’s apple bobbed with a harsh swallow as he stared up at you. You couldn’t help but smirk down at him as the shutter went off.

As soon as the sword was moved, Leviathan got up so fast he almost knocked you onto your ass. You bit back a laugh, not wanting to TRULY embarrass him, as you waited for him to finish going through the pictures he took. You could see how tense he was as you put the fake sword away. While he was busy, you went to the other costume he had picked for you.

Holding up, it was easy to see it was a more… risque piece. Clothing torn in very strategic spots, exposing flesh in a tantalizing way. Aside from the rips and tears, it was nearly identical to the first. A companion piece, it seemed. Maybe for more lewd works.

Considering the first costume fit you so well, both of these were made for you in mind. You got a wicked smile. Oh, Leviathan. You naughty, naughty demon. You slipped away while he was still busy to change into the new costume.

“So, what did you want me to model with this?” He let out a “huh”, freezing when he caught sight of you. Your chest was nearly on full display, one of your pant legs torn clean off to expose the limb in question. You decided to tousle your hair to make it seem like you were in a scuffle, and discarded the overcoat completely. You grinned as you stepped over.

“Maybe an alternate outcome where my character gets beaten, and gets… taken prisoner.” Leviathan, completely caught off guard, nodded dumbly in agreement. You smiled, moving past him to take your position on the ground. He set up his phone on its tripod again, nearly dropping the device three times as he kept looking at you.

You sat on the ground, leaning back on an arm with your legs slightly bent. An arm shielded your face as if you were injured. He simply took a few pictures of that pose, trying to keep his breathing under control.

“Wouldn’t be true to the scene without you in here, you know,” you told him. Leviathan froze again, face going bright red. He DID need these poses, but… how badly did he need them?

His legs made the decision for him, as he stumbled over to you after setting the timer. He took a similar pose to the one before, except he was above you with a foot on your stomach and fists clenched at his sides. He ignored the trembling in his arms as the shutter sounded.

He went to reset the timer, coming back over. Slowly, he kneeled over you. Your hips were trapped between his legs as his hands all but slammed your shoulders into the ground. You grunted slightly from the impact, making his claws dig into your skin. One of your hands went to his wrist, while the other went up to his head. In a last moment decision, you grabbed the hair at the back of his head. He couldn’t stop the pretty moan that came out of his mouth at the action. You two almost missed the camera noise because of it.

“ALRIGHT THAT’S ENOUGH THANK YOU,” Leviathan screeched as soon as he realized the camera went off. He moved off of you at record speed, grabbing his camera and running to his bathroom. He yelled that you can change in there and leave, that you two would play Minecraft again another time.

You knew pushing him to do more was a bad idea- he was already freaked out, and flirting more would push him further away. You couldn’t help but laugh as you changed, though.

“Call me again if you need anymore help, Levi,” you called out, walking loud enough to indicate you were leaving. You didn’t miss the flustered whine he let out, having thought you left already, as you shut the door. You laughed as you headed back to your room.

He was too fun to tease.

[captainsophiestark]

Nor’Easter

Maxon Schreave x Reader

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Day Seven of Stress-Free Farch! Info and Join Farch here

Fandom: The Selection Series

Prompt: Maxon Schreave + Nor’Easter

Summary: Y/N lives in Waverly, one of the North Eastern provinces of Illéa. Their parents are out of town, so they're on their own to prepare for another of the trademark storms of the region. It's nothing new to them, and they're ready and settled in at the beginning of the night as the wind picks up and the snow starts falling. However, not everyone is so aware of the harsh weather of the North East. Y/N's life might just chance forever when a certain Prince of Illéa gets stuck in the snow.

Word Count: 3,499

Category: Fluff

A/N: I know the Selection is a super niche fandom (although apparently it’s getting a movie?), but Maxon is one of my OG fictional crushes, and I’ve been wanting to write for him forever. Hopefully some of you also read those books and fell in love with him lol

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Y/N? Are you down here?"

I almost whacked my head on the stair above me at the sound of my neighbor's voice. I'd been digging around in the basement, gathering supplies for a coming winter storm, and I hadn't heard them come in.

"Yes, I'm here! I'll be up in just a second!"

I grabbed the buckets I'd come down to find, then hauled them upstairs to find my neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Whitney, waiting with smiling faces in my living room.

"Sorry to burst in on you like this, dear," said Mrs. Whitney. "We just wanted to make sure you were ready for the storm this afternoon."

"Looks like you're already more prepared then we are," laughed Mr. Whitney as I moved to start filling the buckets with water. A power outage might mean we couldn't get running water, so I needed to get as much of it as I could now just in case I couldn't get it later. "We thought we'd offer for you to come stay with us for the storm, but it looks like you're more than prepared here."

I turned and smiled at my neighbors, taking a break from my preparations. They were total sweethearts, and they'd been checking in on me regularly since my parents had left for business last week.

"Thanks, Mr. and Mrs. Whitney, but I'm alright. I've got everything I could possibly need ready to go here," I said.

"Alright, if you're sure," said Mrs. Whitney. "Just know you're always welcome to change your mind."

I nodded, and they started heading for the door.

"You know, it's a real shame this storm's interrupting the royal visit," started Mr. Whitney, his tone teasing. "You're going to be stuck in here instead of running into dashing princes."

I scoffed, and I could tell from the laughs of my neighbors that it was exactly the reaction they were expecting.

"Oh yeah, what a loss," I said sarcastically.

"You know, I actually feel a little bad for those royals and their entourage," said Mrs. Whitney as she and her husband reached the door. "They come all the way out to Waverly to visit the people, and instead they're stuck inside thanks to the Waverly Winter."

"Yeah, those poor babies," I said, following my neighbors to the door. "How horrible, to have to sit out a storm in one of the most luxurious hotels in the country. They'll probably think it's some fascinating display of nature, and not any kind of real problem like the rest of us have to deal with."

My neighbors shared a look, but wisely didn't argue with me. They knew I didn't completely hate our government; I just got frustrated with how little they knew about the real world.

Mr. and Mrs. Whitney gave me one last wave as they headed down the walk and back to their own house, and I stayed at the door long enough to see them off. Then, I didn't waste another second in finishing my preparations. This storm was coming, and I wasn't about to be caught unprepared.

****************

Not quite twelve hours later, I was sitting in my living room, curled up with a cup of tea and a book as the storm raged around me. It had just gotten bad about half an hour ago, and I knew we were in for far worse as the night went on, but since the power hadn't even gone out yet I was still enjoying myself.

The wind howled outside through the deserted streets, so hard the snow was coming down sideways. These storms were just part of life in Waverly, and it brought me a weird sense of comfort sometimes to think about. People had lived through storms like this for generations, before Illéa even existed, and they'd continue to live through them after we were long gone.

It was a universal constant, no matter the state of the world.

I finished the chapter of my book I was working on and set it down, deciding to take a peek outside at just how bad things had gotten. Storms like this one could dump an insane amount of snow in a very short amount of time, and this one was no different. It looked like there was already half a foot outside, with the wind already whipping up some nasty drifts.

I was just about to turn away from the window and go back to my reading when some movement out in the snow caught my eye. The trees were whipping around like crazy, but a dark shape a little closer to street level was moving too. I looked closer and realized it was a person, trudging through the storm all on their own.

"What the hell is that dumbass doing?" I muttered to myself, watching the person take a few struggling steps down the street. One of the trademarks of Waverly storms was the high winds that were enough to knock you right off your feet. I watched for a few more seconds, then shook my head and moved to get my coat.

"Idiot's going to get us both frostbite," I grumbled, lacing up my boots and bundling up as well as I could. Whoever that person was, they weren't from this neighborhood, which meant they needed a place to stay. As irritating as it was, I couldn't just leave them out there in the storm.

I shoved open my door and took care to shut it behind me, hoping to keep the ice and snow from getting inside. The wind cut right through my clothes, even though they were designed for winters like this, and I was already freezing as I trudged through the snow towards the figure.

"Hey!" I yelled, screaming to be heard over the wind. The figure barely glanced up, and I could finally make out enough of the person's figure to tell they were a guy. Their face was mostly covered, so I still couldn't see much else, even as I reached his side. "You need to come inside! Like, now!"

The man hesitated for a second, but then nodded. He was shivering like a leaf, so I wrapped one arm around him and helped lead him towards my front door. I had to wrestle with the wind to wrench the door open, but I managed it, and the two of us stumbled inside. I slammed the door as quickly as I could, shoving a few towels into the cracks to help keep the wind from coming through.

"Alright, come here," I said, gesturing for the man to follow me as I shed my winter clothes and headed for the kitchen. "You need to warm up as soon as possible. Take off your wet clothes and come sit by the fire here while I make you some tea."

I didn't hear anything for a minute, but then the guy shed his coat and did as I said. His coat was of pretty good quality, so I doubted his clothes were wet underneath, and I assumed I was right as I heard him sit down behind me at the table.

"Thank you," he said quietly. His voice was oddly familiar, but I didn't think anything of it as I put the tea on the stove. Thankfully, we were early enough in the storm that power and water were still functioning.

"No problem. I couldn't exactly leave you to freeze out there, could I? Now, you wanna tell me what the hell you were doing out there in the first place?"

I finished the preparations for the tea, then turned to take a good look at my visitor now that the coat, scarf, and hat were off his face. He was staring at me, and my mouth dropped open in shock as I realized I recognized the warm brown eyes watching me so intently.

Prince Maxon Schreave was the dumbass from the storm, now sitting in my kitchen.

The prince gave a small laugh when he saw my expression.

"I see I'm still plenty recognizable even after almost freezing to death," he joked. I didn't say anything, my brain slowly taking stock of the situation I now found myself in. The prince was still shivering, although he was smiling. I'd just saved his life, and gotten him out of a situation he wouldn't have been in if he and his palace weren't complete idiots. He didn't have any royal guards with him, and he seemed to be in a friendly enough mood.

Worth the risk to not spend the next however long kowtowing to him.

"Who the hell let you out long enough to get yourself stuck in the storm like that?" I demanded, putting my hands on my hips and glaring at the man before me. He seemed shocked at my brazen attitude, but his smile quickly returned when he realized I was done being star struck.

"I'm afraid I only have myself to blame," he said, teeth still chattering a little as he spoke. "I wanted to spend some time getting to know the people and their lives better than I do in the palace, and I thought a cold winter would be the perfect excuse to bundle up and meet people without their knowing that I'm the prince getting in the way of anything."

I just blinked a few times, not quite able to believe the man in front of me. He'd been trying to fix exactly the thing I liked to complain about most, but he'd done it in a way that just reinforced how obliviously stupid everyone in the palace was.

"That is... insanely ironic," I finally said. The prince raised his eyebrows, but I just ignored him as the teapot sang behind me. I turned around to finish fixing it, handing it to the prince while it was still steaming hot. He held it close to his chest, no doubt trying to get as much warmth from it as he could.

"Thank you," he said, and I could tell he meant it. He was more kind, more humble and honest, than I'd been expecting of the prince of Illéa. Combined with his good looks, I'd be lying if I said my heart wasn't fluttering in my chest.

Still, none of it made him any less of an idiot.

"I'm going to go get you some warmer clothes and blankets to layer on," I said, heading towards the bedroom. "Stay by the fire as much as you can."

He nodded, and I left, shaking my head at the situation I now found myself in. Mr. and Mrs. Whitney would never stop talking about it if they found out.

I came back to find the prince exactly where I'd left him, hovering in front of the fire and sipping his tea. I handed him the stack of sweaters and blankets I'd dug up, and he took them with a grateful look at me.

"Thank you, again," he said. "And I apologize for being so rude as to not ask this earlier, but what is your name?"

I felt heat rising to my cheeks as he looked at me with that earnest, kind stare. I tried to ignore the feeling, focusing on just how we'd both ended up in this situation instead, but even that was starting to become endearing.

"Y/N Y/L/N," I said simply. "And of course, I know who you are, Prince Maxon."

"Please, just call me Maxon. I haven't been feeling very princely since I almost got myself killed in that storm."

I cracked a small smile, the first since he'd come inside, and leaned back against the counter.

"Yeah, about that... no offense or anything, but have none of you ever heard of the storms we get in Waverly? They're old, like... old old. I can't believe you've never heard of them."

Maxon just gave me a sheepish smile and shrugged.

"We don't know much about the everyday things going on outside the walls of the palace," he said. "That's why I wanted to come out here in the first place. I suppose I should've done a little more research first, since I won't be of use to anyone if I manage to get myself killed."

I snorted a laugh. "Yeah, that's for sure."

Maxon just sipped his tea, carefully keeping his eyes off me, and I noticed a slight blush rising to his face. I sighed, then pushed off the counter to take the seat next to him.

"Look, honestly, you and everyone in the palace should've been smarter than this," I said simply. "And, as someone who lives here and has had two decades to see how out of touch the palace is, you're going to get a deserved amount of teasing about it. But, I think it's really cool that you're trying to change that. And since we have nothing else to do while we wait for this storm to pass... well, I was thinking I could help you learn a thing or two about your kingdom. Or, about Waverly, at least."

About halfway through my speech, Maxon had looked up at me, a smile slowly spreading on his face as I spoke.

"I would love that," he said, his eyes never leaving mine. "Thank you, Y/N."

I smiled back, unable to help it at the sweet look on his face.

"Sure thing. Like I said, we've got some time to kill now that you've gone and gotten yourself snowbound here."

****************

The first hour or so was a little awkward. Maxon and I sat at the table in the kitchen, going over daily life as he slowly warmed up and I slowly got more comfortable around him. By the third hour of the storm, we were sprawled out in the living room, laughing and talking about more than just the daily ins and outs of life in Waverly.

As the sun went down, Maxon and I headed back to the kitchen, and he helped me cook dinner. He didn't completely know what he was doing, but he had enough competency to be a good assistant chef, and he actually managed to make cooking fun which was something I never thought I'd say. We finally sat down to eat, and I barely noticed the storm raging outside as I chatted with the blond prince.

After dinner, Maxon and I passed time playing stupid board games all night. His smile and friendly attitude were infectious, and I found myself not wanting to go to bed, even as the clock ticked towards midnight.

"HA! Take that!" I yelled, taking Maxon's king in our most recent game of chess. We were both horrible at it, but that only made it more fun.

"Damn. It's a good thing for me chess has nothing to do with actually maintaining the kingdom, isn't it?" he joked. I grinned at him as I dropped the king piece into the bag it came from, then leaned back on my hands and looked at Maxon. He gave me a tired smile, which I returned, and as hard as I tried, I wasn't able to hold back a yawn. "I think it might be time for bed."

"Yeah, I guess so." I started cleaning up the chess pieces while Maxon did the same with some of the other board games we'd played. "You know, I'm sorry you got stuck in the storm like that, but I'm actually glad you ended up here. It's been more fun hanging out with you than it would have been just reading in my chair all night."

"And it's been infinitely more fun learning about the kingdom from you than it would have been to learn about it in any other way," he said softly, standing and holding out a hand to help me up. I took it, but once I was on my feet, neither of us let go.

"You know, it's probably going to be pretty cold tonight," I said, never once taking my eyes off Maxon's. We were chest to chest, and I felt my heart racing just looking at him. "If you want, it might be warmer if we, you know, shared a bed."

Maxon blushed, but agreed with a smile. We both got ready for bed, and we didn't do anything more than cuddle, but even spending the night surrounded by his arms and tucked into his chest was enough to have me feeling giddy the next morning.

I woke up slowly, the sound of the wind still howling around the house. Maxon was still asleep, and his chest rose and fell slowly with each breath. I smiled, still not quite believing this was real.

My slow morning was interrupted by a pounding at the door. I shot up, waking Maxon as I did, and stared straight ahead. Who the hell was outside now?

"What's that?" asked Maxon, his words slurred a little since he was still sleepy as he sat up.

"I don't know. You're the only idiot I know who'd be out in this storm."

Maxon smiled and shook his head, but at the sound of more pounding on the door, we both got up and quickly got dressed. We moved through the house back towards the front door, creeping forward to see who it could be.

I stopped just short of the front of the house, peeking around the corner to see a whole group of men in uniform circling my house. I turned to Maxon, an edge of panic starting to creep in.

"Do you know who they are?" I asked. He nodded, wrapping his arms around me at the nerves in my voice.

"They're here for me. They're my protection from the palace. I think I gave them quite a scare when I didn't come back last night."

I nodded, relief flooding me as Maxon moved past me to open the door. As soon as he did, the house became a whirlwind of activity as somewhere near twenty people moved inside, looking him over and scanning the house for any threats. A few of them tried to question me, but Maxon quickly put a stop to that.

Not long after they arrived, all the people started heading for the door again, hustling Maxon out with them. Despite not being aware the storm was coming, they'd managed to find a way to get through the snow and wind long enough to retrieve the prince, and now they were going back to wherever they'd come from.

I smiled sadly as they hustled Maxon towards the door, expecting that to be the end. But he shook off the guards, ordering them to wait, before turning back to me with a hesitant look on his face.

"Y/N... I hate to leave you here in the middle of all this, alone..."

"I'll be fine," I said, waving him off even as my heart clenched. "I still have plenty of my book left to read, and I'm used to this."

He nodded, but took a few cautious steps towards me.

"I have no doubt that you'd be perfectly fine here, on your own. However, I learned so much from you in just one night, and... well, if you'd be interested, I'd love to have you come with me and teach me more. It's obvious that I won't be getting out into the streets here anytime soon, and, well, quite frankly... I'd like to spend some more time with you."

A smile broke out across my face at his words. I was nervous, surrounded by all these soldiers staring at us so intently, but against all odds I really did like Maxon. I wasn't ready to say goodbye just yet.

"Alright, I'm in," I said, and the smile that broke out on his face was enough to warm every inch of my body, even with the cold draft the soldiers had let in. "After all, you need someone familiar with Waverly if you want to survive this place."

Maxon just kept smiling and held out his hand to me. I took it, my heart hammering in my chest, and we walked out the door together. I had no idea where this was going, or how long it might last, but I was going to treasure every moment of it.

My parents would never believe it when I told them about my new relationship with Prince Maxon Schreave.

[levis-little-nuggie]

(SFW) prompt 84: “Leave me alone.” “I brought cookies.” “… fine, come in.” with Leviathan and f!mc

Hey nonny! For this prompt, I immediately knew how to start this and I knew it was going to be "easy" for me to write it but it took me... awhile... to finally sit down and write this.

Thank you so much for the request, I hope you enjoy this at least half as much as I did writing it 💜💜

Inspired by this rolling pin

SFW, female MC, fluffy with a dash of angst, no warnings (but can be added if requested)

Cookies for the Otaku

The timer rang and she picked herself off the counter. Sliding on the oven mitts, MC opened the oven, pulled out the tray, closed the oven, and turned off the timer. The kitchen resumed its relative silence as she inspected the baked cookies. She'd made enough, she hoped, for Beel and the other brothers, but this last batch was special.

Resisting the urge to sigh again, MC waited a few minutes before removing the cookies from the pan to let them rest on the wire cooling rack. What better way to cheer up the otaku than with her signature snickerdoodle cookies imprinted with Ruri-chan and Azuki-tan designs from the limited edition "Baking With Ruri-chan Rolling Pin" she'd bought specifically to make for Ruri-chan's number one fan.

She'd overheard the brothers this morning teasing the third-born over a picture he'd posted of the two of them from Christmas he'd tagged with #ChristmasDate and #WithMyBeloved. Mammon had started the fuss showing it to everyone and soon after, the brothers had followed suit. They filled the halls with their squawking and opinions saying things like "you wish she saw you more than a friend," and comparing what they saw as their redeeming qualities with his "flaws."

Before MC even had a chance to step in, Lucifer intervened. Much to her disdain, the eldest criticized Leviathan's decision to post the picture at all, saying he'd had the intention to cause a ruckus. MC felt Leviathan's growl of frustration vibrate the air around her before he stormed back to his room, slamming the door shut behind him. Distracted during her classes, MC sent Levi a few messages throughout the day, trying to reach him through a few of his social media accounts but his status was always unavailable or offline compared to the almost permanent active/online status.

Plating up the special cookies made just for him, MC set off down the hall not knowing what state he'd be in but wanting to help him any way she could. She knocked on the door, but only silence responded. Knocking a little louder resulted in the same silence. Starting to worry, MC jiggled the locked door handle and knocked louder; he would be able to at least feel the vibrations if he was in the aquarium.

"Go away." His voice was rough, not necessarily loud but it was low and threatening reminding her of a rattlesnake.

"Levi? It's me, I-"

"Leave me alone." He cut her off and she heard a splash of water followed by soft footsteps. His voice, no longer filled with venom, sounded defeated and sad.

"I brought cookies. Snickerdoodle? Said to hold magical powers that can turn any grumpy guppy into a silly sea turtle..." Silence stretched out the seconds and her hope gradually deflated until she'd heard him sigh and a rustle behind the door. The lock clicked soon after, the door opening barely a sliver.

"...fine. Come in." Usually he'd at least smile, tease her for using such childish alliterations when she'd attempted to cheer him up in the past. Levi's deadpan tone crawled under her skin uncomfortably but she reached out to open the door, pulling it closed behind her and locking it as he had done previously.

MC's eyes followed the trail of puddles decorating the floor around the room before her gaze landed on the culprit. Levi had fallen back in his bathtub bed, legs dangling over the edge as his computer's screensaver cast an unsettling glow in the room.

Walking over to his desk to set down the plate of cookies, MC moved the mouse slightly causing the screen flicker to life; she wasn't interested with what was on the screen so much as the default screensaver had been silently mocking her.

MC took a cookie from the plate and placed it in her mouth, moving to stand between his legs. She held her hand out expectantly, waiting for the third-born to take it and let her pull him up. Eventually when he reached for her hand, Levi locked his legs around hers, lifting her before pulling her down into the tub with him. The cookie had fallen during the movement as she had yelped in surprise, and landed on his chest.

Arranging themselves to be comfortable, MC was lying on her back and Levi had his head resting on her stomach, her fingers brushing through his wet hair with the cookie lying innocently on her abdomen. It was quiet for awhile, neither of them spoke but the atmosphere was comforting, reassuring.

Finally, MC felt his fingers ghost along her stomach to inspect the cookie. It was too dim to see the pattern but she wasn't concerned about it; he'd see the design eventually.

"You made these?" His voice was barely above a whisper so as to not disrupt the mood.

"Mhmm," an affirmative hum in response, fingers still sifting through his hair, nails lightly scratching at his scalp. Levi hugged her a little tighter before lifting himself up, cookie in his mouth like she had done earlier, and held his head right above hers, the cookie gently pressed against her lips. Levi couldn't meet her gaze and she swore she could feel the heat radiating from his face, but she raised her head to take a bite from the offered sweet.

Crumbles rained down onto her face and she laughed, bringing up a hand to swipe them away causing Levi to shove the rest of the cookie into his mouth not knowing what else to do with it and not wanting to drop any more crumbs on her.

"It was supposed to be romantic, I'm sorry I messed it up," she could hear the pout in his voice. Looping her arms around his shoulders, MC pulled herself up to kiss him on the cheek, his skin warm against her lips.

"Romance is for boomers and normies. You're adorable and literally perfect the way you are." Levi groaned and leaned forward, burying his face against her neck, his chest rumbling as he tried not to whine.

The two of them shifted their positions again with practiced ease learned from maneuvering around in his narrow bathtub bed. Her ear against his chest listening to the rhythm of his heart beat and his arm resting gently on her upper back. She could feel his hand ghosting over her arm, still showing his shy, hesitant nature.

"Do you want to talk about it? This morning I mean." She felt him tense up and moved her hand from under her chin to splay her fingers gently on his chest to which he flinched from the contact. "We don't have to if you don't want to, I just want to make sure you're okay. You weren't online all day." Her voice got quieter the longer she spoke until the last sentence was mumbled.

"Eh? I bet you jumped around all my accounts to see if I'd been active." MC shrunk down trying to make herself smaller and he let out a laugh. "You did? Oh you totally did! Let me guess, DevilTube, Devilgram, Devilbook, Devcord, don't tell me you also checked Devtrest? Man I haven't been on that one in ages!!" Levi continued laughing and MC playfully smacked her hand on his chest with a scoff, her face burning as he teased her.

"And you even made me cookies too?" Levi sighed and wrapped his arms around her in a hug, squeezing her for a few seconds before pulling away. A hand lingered on her shoulder made her heart swoon. "I just," he started before stopping short, trying to collect and organize his thoughts and she waited patiently as he knew she would.

"You're so patient with me, I'm, I should be able to show you off to my brothers, to the world like you deserve. I should be confident enough to announce that we're, y-you know, t...to..., GAH! I can't even say it! I'm sorry MC, that I'm so use-"

"I don't think so," MC snapped back and pushed herself up to straddle him, smooshing his cheeks together to make fish lips, effectively cutting him off. "Do you remember what we talked about?" Levi looked away and huffed an exhale through his nose. "About being nice to ourselves?" MC still had a hold on his face squishing his cheeks together so he wasn't able to vocally respond but he huffed again before nodding slowly. She released his cheeks and patted his head, watching him expectantly. It was a battle they had frequently, waiting for the other to break first, but he always caved.

"Fine, fine, I give in, you win." As part of their agreement, whenever they caught each other saying something negative or self-depreciating, the one that was caught has to then say a compliment about themselves. "Ah, I'm Ruri-chan's number one fan!" Levi laughed and MC playfully huffed in response before standing and leaving the bathtub bed.

Levi peeked his head over the rim of the tub, worried he'd actually upset her, his eyes following as she walked to his desk and spotted the plate of cookies. He smacked his lips relishing in the sweet aftertaste and his stomach growled signaling it hadn't had a morsel of food all day. Pulling himself out of the tub, Levi padded over next to her and sat down in his chair.

Waiting until he got comfortable, MC sat down in his lap, facing him, and wrapped her arms around his torso, nuzzling her face against his sternum. Levi rested his chin on the top of her head and opened up his social media accounts to catch up on notifications and news, forgetting about his hunger. Hearing his stomach rumble, MC reached over for another cookie, holding it so the glow from the computer highlighted the imprinted design on top.

"If your her number one fan, then that makes me an enabler." Confused by her words, Levi looks down at the cookie in her hand and squealed, cupping her hand holding the baked good gently like it was a precious delicacy.

"MC," he whined. "Is this from the Limited Edition Baking With Ruri-chan Rolling Pin featuring Ruri-chan and Azuki-tan in their aprons and chef hats?" The designs smiling back up at him confirmed his suspicion. "But, we went to all the stores, all the lottery tickets, how were you lucky enough to get one?" She tittered knowing he was impressed and her surprise a success.

"Someone bought one by accident not realizing the design was themed. They wanted the original Ruri-chan design and returned the limited edition one."

"What?!? That's, how does that even happen?" Levi exclaimed, confounded by the happenstance.

"The store clerk was confused too, they could have made bank if they would have sold it instead but nope; they made an even exchange. The clerk remembered how desperate we were to get one and held on to it in case we were to stop by again. Mammon and I were window shopping when the clerk flagged me down. He said by doing us this favor, he hopes we'll seek him out first for future rare merch drops."

Levi was quiet for a moment, considering the design imprinted on the homemade baked good. His free hand lifted, running his fingers along her neck, urging her to pull back and she followed suit, her eyes blinking wide up at the otaku. Levi's hand held her head steady, his finger under her chin, blinking slowly and a soft smile parting his lips.

"I change my answer, I'm your number one fan." Her heart skipped a beat as he pressed his lips softly against hers and she melted. Their flushed cheeks mirrored each other and as she found herself dazed, he realized what he'd done and his face burned hotter. Looking everywhere else, Levi's attention was brought back to the cookie and he quickly took a bite as a distraction. Actually tasting and enjoying the sweet, he let out a delighted hum while he chewed and MC laughed in response, grabbing another cookie for herself to eat.

"You know," he spoke up after finishing his cookie, "I'm a pretty big fan of these cookies too."

"You're not gonna kiss the cookie too, right? Cause that'd be weird." MC snorted with laughter and Levi sputtered before following her in laughter feeling the weight of the day, of the morning, finally drift away.

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Dogwarts Angst prompt: With so many out for his blood, Martyn needs power and protection so, what does he do? Mutiny, he slays his king in a way that gets him no suspicions and claims it was another faction (prob the desert given they have a gunpowder farm). Then, uses Ren as a martyr and symbol ("for our fallen king!") to gain the loyalty of the Red Army...HIS army...

this was so painful to write asdfghjkl not because it’s bad but bc i love loyal Martyn too much and the idea of him betraying Ren is horrible lol

...

It’s nearing sunset and Martyn and Ren are out for a walk near their base. Martyn is sweating a little; he has a plan and everything has to go just right or his life will be over. Ren has already asked a few questions but at least he seemed mostly satisfied with Martyn’s answers.

“You alright, there, Martyn?” says Ren after a while. “You seem to be looking around a lot.”

“Having a bounty on my head is making me a little nervous,” responds Martyn. “I love being wanted but it really makes a guy paranoid.”

Ren smiles sympathetically at him. “Understandable. I never thought-.”

“Wait!” Martyn gasps involuntarily, spotting the thin tripwire he set up, only just visible through the trees. “I-I think I see someone. Quickly!”

He takes off towards the trees, with Ren just behind him. Hopping over the tripwire, he hides behind another tree a few blocks away until he hears Ren yelp, “Martyn, I just tripped on something!”

Martyn immediately dashes for cover, leaving Ren behind.

The last thing he hears is Ren yelling his name, before the world explodes around him.

Luckily, Martyn is far enough away that the explosions only knock him lightly off his feet. Hurriedly getting back up, he rushes back the way he came, to find Ren lying in the centre of the large crater on his back, a small puddle of blood under his head.

Martyn kneels down beside Ren and cradles his head in his lap. Despite his plans, he can’t help feeling a twinge of guilt.

“M-Martyn…” coughs Ren, eyelids fluttering. “Wh…”

“I’m sorry, My Liege,” Martyn starts quietly, before abruptly changing what he was going to say. “I shouldn’t have left your side.”

“It’s okay,” Ren whispers, giving a weak smile, as he reaches up with a shaky hand to touch Martyn’s shoulder. “T-Take my crown. D-Dogwarts is yours, o-okay? Take c-care of it.”

Martyn nods as he carefully takes the crown from Ren. “Of course.”

Ren’s eyes slowly close for the final time and his body disappears.

Renthedog blew up

Martyn sits back on his ankles, allowing himself a minute to cry. He doesn’t hate his plan - he chose this path after all - but he does hate not being honest. He’d been planning to reveal his treachery to Ren just before he died but when it came down to it, he just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t quite force himself to admit that he’d betrayed the man who gave him shelter, a purpose, and the position to be able to take control of arguably the most powerful alliance on the server.

He has made the decision to let Ren go to his grave believing that his dedicated friend was loyal to the end.

And now Martyn must live with that.

He stays there for a while, until he hears a distant voice yelling his name. It’s a friendly voice, so Martyn doesn’t move. This is his chance to start the performance of his life.

Sure enough, Skizz soon appears through the trees, followed closely by Etho. The two skid to a halt as they register the scene: Martyn kneeling in the crater with Ren’s crown in his lap.

“No!” Skizz gasps, rushing to Martyn’s side. “Oh no, are you okay?! What happened?!”

“I… The D-Desert Alliance must’ve trapped the area,” Martyn croaks, forcing himself to act shell-shocked. “I was stupid; I-I left Ren’s side to scout ahead. By the time I heard the TNT hissing, it was t-too late to save him.”

“Oh my god…” Skizz hugs Martyn tightly. “I’m so sorry. Are you hurt?”

“N-No, I was far enough away from the explosion.” Martyn clutches the crown as if his life depends on it. “I… What do we do now…?”

“Now, you gotta take over as the red king,” Skizz says, exactly as Martyn hoped. “Ren gave you his crown, right? He wanted you to take over for him.”

Martyn clears his throat. “Yeah… you’re right. We have to avenge Ren.”

Skizz nods, his eyes flashing red. “They gotta pay for what they did to our king, Martyn. I need to make them pay.”

“Me too,” responds Martyn. “For Ren."

…

When they get back to Dogwarts, the sun has long since set. Martyn is standing on the altar, holding Ren’s sword. He can’t stop thinking about Ren, as he’s sure none of his team can. But he knows it’s for very different reasons.

“Hey,” says Skizz’s voice gently from behind him. “You should get some sleep. It’s been a rough day.”

Martyn nods slowly. “I know, I just… I’m a little nervous.”

Skizz moves to his side and places his hand on Martyn’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Martyn. You know we’ll all protect you, right? You’re our new king; we’ll protect you with our lives, no matter how many stupid bounties are on your head.”

“Thanks, Skizz. I appreciate that.” Martyn can’t quite manage a smile. “Get some sleep. We’re gonna attack the Desert Alliance tomorrow at dawn.”

“Really?” Skizz stares at him. “Do you have a plan?”

“I’ll address everyone properly first thing in the morning.”

“Okay. Night, buddy. I mean… My Liege.”

Martyn carefully watches Skizz go into the building, before heading out towards the gate. His plan is working better than he could have ever imagined. Nobody suspects him. The only person who would even have the capacity to suspect him is-.

“Hey, Martyn.”

Martyn freezes as he hears Etho’s voice. Turning slowly, he spots his ally leaning against the wall, arms folded. “Hi. You startled me.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.” Etho’s expression is friendly but there’s something underneath, something that makes Martyn uneasy. “I just had a question for you, if that’s okay?”

Martyn turns fully to face Etho. “Shoot.”

“Did you see anyone around when you and Ren were out there, just before the trap went off?” Etho asks. “Anyone at all?”

This feels like a trap to Martyn. The easy thing to do would be to say yes, to tell Etho that he saw someone lurking around. But at the same time, maybe Etho is expecting him to say no. Either way, Martyn risks elevating Etho’s suspicions.

After taking a few seconds to think, he replies, “I thought I did, but I can’t be sure. That’s part of the reason I went ahead; I thought maybe someone was waiting to ambush us.”

“Right, I see.” Etho seems neither satisfied nor dissatisfied with his response. “So. An attack on the Desert Alliance at dawn, huh?”

Martyn nods, realising that Etho heard what he said to Skizz. “My reasoning is they’ll probably be expecting us to be weak and have to spend a few days to regroup after Ren’s loss. They won’t expect an immediate attack.”

“I see. That makes sense. I guess we’d better all get some rest, huh? Including you.”

“Yeah, I’ve just gotta do one thing before I turn in. But by all means, you go ahead.”

“I will,” Etho says. “Night, Martyn.”

“Night.”

Martyn watches Etho go back inside, before heading out to the grave Skizz made for Ren. He kneels in front of it and lays a flower on it.

“Sorry, Ren,” he murmurs. “There’s a new red king now.”

[random-mha-thoughts]

Kiss of Death pt 2 (Todoroki x Reader)

Pairing: Todoroki x Reader

Genre: Angst

Summary: If the Angel of Death came upon you but you had half an hour, what would you do?

Part 1.

BGM: Ateez “Inception” slowed + reverb (Insomnio on YT)

Word count: 1,284

Warnings: Character death and bodies

Tags: @rintomoj @yuki-osaki @yamichxn​ @lonelyfangirl453 @cyanide9602 @liviitehe @bigkoalafications

a/n: Feels good to be back to writing here~ As promised, this sequel part is the day after the first part.  Am I sorry for my first post after hiatus being angst? Not really, whoops 😉.  Enjoy suffering~

Todoroki didn't know what kind of dream that was; it was too realistic for him to categorize it with his other dreams.  He even began to doubt that it even was just a figment of his imagination.  Normally, the images in his head would be too abstract and scattered to remember all the details; although still spotty and scattered, the images his mind had conjured up were too defined than anything he'd experienced before.  Even the kiss felt irresistibly real, and he wondered how his inexperienced mind conjured such a sweet taste.  In a way, he was disappointed that his mind dangled such an opportunity over his head teasingly.

"I have feelings for you.”

As Todoroki opened his refrigerator to look for some breakfast, he frowned to himself.  The images held a strangely incomplete weight to it, something he can't put his finger on.  The entire scenario seemed like call to action in disguise for some unknown reason.  Perhaps this was his sign that he should seize the opportunity, take matters into his own hands, make his dream a reality.  The powers at be were giving him the green light; this was some divine signal that his confession would be reciprocated and he has nothing to fear.

His heart skipped a beat and his cheeks rushed with heat at the thought of his reality aligning with his inner fantasy, the memory of your soft lips ghosting over his.  It seemed too good to be true, but still somehow within his reach.

Fueled by this affirmative omen, he decided to pay you a visit after breakfast for a coffee date.

~

Todoroki pulled his scarf slightly looser as he entered your apartment building, his body temperature suddenly warmer.  Numerous times on the walk over did he have to remind himself of why he was here, the light that was mostly likely waiting for him at the end.  Picturing your smiling face and how precious you would be standing with him kept his feet moving.  If he didn't take advantage of this sudden flash of confidence today, he couldn't be confident that it would strike him again.

He called the elevator and took another calming breath.  The doors opened almost immediately and he stepped in.  In a daze, Todoroki pushed the button to your floor, his mind palace painting lovely images of you two going on casual dates strolling through the park, having fun at amusement parks, and cuddling under the stars.  He almost missed the desperate call of someone rushing towards him.

"Hold the door!"

He snapped out of his daze and pushed the open button right before the steel doors shut.  The breathless figure stumbled in, heaving for breath.  "Thank you- Oh, Todoroki."  The figure straightened up.

Todoroki bowed his head briefly in greeting.  "Good morning."  He recognized them as your close friend whom you talked fondly about often.

Their eyes flickered to the button for your floor that's already illuminated as the doors shut.  "Here to see (Y/n)?" they asked cheerily.

"Yes, just to visit," he responded vaguely.  "I haven't seen them in a while, I thought I would drop by."

"I'm sure they would appreciate that," the shorter friend smiled.  "Especially since they need help cleaning today, they would love the extra set of hands."  They checked their phone.  "I wonder what suddenly got into them that they decided to message me at almost 3 last night."

"Yeah, I came at 3 am to confess to you, I’m sorry.”

His clock in his dream and your words flashed through his mind and he cocked an eyebrow to himself before shrugging it off as a strange coincidence.  In regard to your friend's words, he decided to rework his plan.  He didn't mind helping you clean your place.  It would make his request to take you out to coffee afterwards more natural as a job well done for cleaning.

The elevator opened on your floor.  "They must be sleeping still, they didn't answer my text."  The two of them approached your door and the friend knocked.  "(Y/n)!  Wakey wakey!  Your cleaning crew has arrived!"  Without waiting for an answer, they lifted the doormat to retrieve the spare key hiding under it, unlocking the door and bursting in.

As they announced their arrival, Todoroki closed the door behind him and removed his shoes and quietly took in your home.  He smiled to himself because the atmosphere and decorations remind him of you.

"(Y/n), come on!  Get up!"  Your friend quickly slipped off their shoes and coat, messily throwing them onto your couch before dashing straight to your room.

Todoroki hung back instead, opting to stroll around your living room instead.  It's not his first time here, but he didn't think you were close enough to enter your room so brazenly; he respected your privacy.  He occupied himself with rehearsing how he would confess his feelings to you.  He wanted to make it as earnest but smooth as possible.  Should he take your hand when he's done?  Should you be walking around or remain inside the coffee shop when he says his piece?  There were so many options, but he wanted to make that moment as perfect as possible because you deserved nothing less.

"Todoroki!  Come over here!"

The alarm in your friend's voice prompted him into action.  All his thoughts scattered into incoherent fear.  What in the world could've happened?  He didn't know.

Todoroki burst into the room and wildly surveyed the scene.  Your friend stood frozen over your bed where you lay, but something seemed off.  Why would you be sleeping over your sheets and blanket?

"I-I came to wake them up, they didn't respond to me calling them- When I went to shake them, they-they-"  They stepped back before knocking into the desk.

Todoroki's mind raced with a thousand thoughts, none of them pleasant.  A shaky hand hesitantly grazed the crook of your neck and his breath stalled.

You were cold.

He drew his hand back, refusing to believe any of this.  His world suddenly spun on its head.  How could you be-?

The rest of his dream echoed in his mind.

"I have to tell you something It can’t wait until morning.”

"I didn’t want to leave without finally saying this to you."

He stumbled back a few steps as he remembered you suddenly vaulting off his balcony.

Your friend sank to the floor, clutching a paper and envelope, body wracked with a sudden onset of sobs as they cried your name.  "(Y/n)!  T-They're gone!"

The pieces finally click together, Todoroki's body grows cold.  Last night was no dream, it was your final goodbye to him.

That was your goodbye kiss to him.

It was his turn to fall to the floor, shudders wracking his body as his throat threatened to close because of the sobs welling up inside him.  The sweet kiss he savored only a minute before suddenly tasted bitter, the future he'd built up for you two ripped away from him.  Todoroki fell apart to the feeling of guilt, regret, anger, misery, distress, and so many other ineffable emotions.  Various self-loathing what-if's and if-only's consumed him.

Todoroki couldn't bear to see your face; even if he wanted to, his body shuddered too much to move and his tears blinded him.  His heartbeat nearly deafened him as your friend read your note aloud as their voice broke and wailed.  He felt cheated by fate.  He refused to believe this was when you were meant to depart, not when he'd experienced just a few seconds of the bliss of you two being together, regretting that he hadn't acted on his feelings sooner and stupidly believed he was sleeping during your final moment together.

Never again would he indulge in your cheerful expressions, your endearing mannerisms, your sweet voice.  You now only lived in his memories and in his dreams, as you'd never live in his reality anymore.

[ppersonna]

pick your filter - pjm | m

mix the colors in the palette, pick your filter. which me do you want? the one to change your world, i'm your filter - filter, bts

↳ summary- You love turning Jimin on, and you’re desperate to make him punish you for it.  Jimin loves punishing you while you listen to his music.

↳ rating- explicit / 18+

↳ word count- 5.1k

↳ pairing- jimin x reader

↳ genre- smut, this is literally just smut, there’s 1% plot and it’s pornographic too, there’s some fluff at the end but i repeat it is still smut. there is no god in this chili’s tonight

↳ warnings- buckle up pals.  established relationship, explicit descriptions of sex, penetrative sex, oral sex (m/f receiving), BDSM themes, spanking, belt usage, dirty talk, derogatory names, pain kink, daddy kink, face-fucking lol, unprotected sex, slight impregnation kink but like not really they just wanna have a baby together and talk about it lol, jimin is filthy and i cannot portray him as anything but filthy but then he has like cute babie syndrome at the end.

↳ a/n- hi i feel maybe 1% shame in how fast i wrote this but whatever.  thank you to @carly-bean-blog for sending the prompt in!  i loved it and went from a planned drabble to 5k words lolol.  one day i’ll be less verbose 🥴🥴 plus enjoy and feel free to send in more requests or just a message to say hi bc as you can see i love talking. also RIP to the wine glass i broke while writing this fic because i hit my table to hard.  wine glass 2020-2020

Turning Park Jimin on was a delicious challenge for you.

When you first began dating, all it took was a ‘come over’ text, and he’d be there in 5 minutes flat regardless of the fact that he lived 15 minutes away.

Now, a few years and a marriage under your belt, it took a bit more.

That’s not to say he wasn’t the same insatiable man you met at university; even after all these years Jimin could easily go 3 or more rounds a night.

But really getting him riled up, getting him hard and wanting and desperate for you was another thing.  Sometimes, you just wanted him to come home and take you right against the kitchen counter, so turned on he couldn’t even make it to the bedroom.

You’re determined to win that challenge today.  

To be truthful, the day was terrible for you, and you were seeking release in the form of your husband dicking you down until you were speaking another language. You were desperate to let loose, push aside the emotional and tender sex that seemed to be more commonplace in the bedroom recently (and you enjoyed equally) but today you needed to be treated like an absolute harlot.

The idea rolled through your mind while you were busying yourself with housework, laundry and dishes.  Options of how to get your husband to take you on the floor, rip your clothes off, make you beg for more, simmered in your mind and made the low flame in your stomach burn.  Lingerie could do the trick, Jimin definitely liked to see you swathed in delicate lace or creamy satin.  You had a nice deep red set that was dying to be used and discarded on the floor.

It came to you as you set your speaker to play some music as you flicked around the house.  Jimin’s sweet voice filled the rooms, causing you to pause as shivers raked your spine.

His music.  There was always something Jimin loved about having his music on in the background of your sex that made him work harder on you, fuck you deeper.  Maybe it was narcissism at its finest, but who were you to complain if it benefitted both of you.

You discarded all thoughts of cleaning the rest of the house as you stalked towards your bedroom closet, gathering the red bustier and panty set, with matching garter belt and stocking clips.  You purchased it rather spur of the moment, a huge sale at your favorite boutique, and you wanted to save it for something special.

It appeared the special moment was now.

You took care to curl your hair, a gentle wave with not too much product.  Jimin loved to tug his fingers through your locks, and grip them in a ponytail as you sucked his cock.  Any product would unfortunately get in the way.  Makeup was minimal, a dash highlight on your cheeks and inner tear ducts, light pink lip stain on your lips.  Jimin had been the test subject of many a lipstick, as you determined to find the most blowjob-proof one.  Needless to say, none of the lipsticks were 100% solid, but it was the best time Jimin ever had as a test subject. You preferred to stick with the stains, easier cleanup for the both of you.

You complete the visual as you swap your grubby cleaning day clothes for blood red lace lingerie, smirking at yourself in the mirror.  The cups of the bra molded against you, encasing your tits perfectly.  Jimin would surely lose his mind.  The panties were simple lace, and you had the inkling that they would not remain intact tonight.   Jimin’s propensity for literally ripping your knickers right off you was legendary.  But that’s what you wanted, isn’t it?  You wanted your husband to be absolutely feral for you.

Step two of your plan was now underway as you slipped onto your bed, perfectly made now, and snapped sultry photos.  You ensured your cleavage and smooth legs were in the shot, a finger on the mouth.  You took a few more, exposing more and more of your body.

me 2:56 pm- hi babe what you up to?

mini 2:56 pm- baby!!!! Not much, just waiting for hobi to get back from lunch so we can practice this new choreo.  

Mini 2:57 pm- what about you? besides being the world’s cutest wife :)

Me: 2:57 pm- oh not too much. I did our laundry and cleaned up the house a little.  Now im just relaxing and missing my babe :(

Mini 2:57 pm- baby :( i’m sorry.  I should be home in a few hours okay! I’ll order in pasta from your favorite place to make up for it

Me 2:58 pm- well, i was sort of hoping you could make up for it but… i don’t want pasta

Mini 2:58 pm- you don’t? What do you want? Pizza?

Me 2:58 pm- [picture attached]

Me 2:58 pm- no, I want you to fuck me until I can’t see straight.

Mini 2:59 pm- oh fuck 

Mini 2:59 pm- baby you’re playing a dangerous game, teasing me like this.

You nearly had him, he was sniffing at the bait and soon he’d bite and you’d reel him in.  You sent the next picture, showcasing your tits with one cup pulled down, nipple on display.

me 3:00 pm- you mean this kind of game?

mini 3:00 pm- christ

mini 3:00 pm- fuck babe, you’re gonna make me pop a boner at dance practice.  You know I can’t come home for a few hours.

me 3:00 pm- hobi still gone?  Go to the bathroom and i’ll send you a video.

mini 3:01 pm- holy fuck asdskadj okay

Time for the pièce de résistance.  Ensuring the speakers blasted ‘Serendipity’, your husband’s full length solo, you clicked the record button and filmed your hand sliding down to your clothed core, rubbing over the mound with a rough hand.  You breathed heavily, sighed, mewled a bit.  

“Daddy,” you gasp. “Come home.”

You end it with a hand sneaking under the band and insertion of one finger.  Leave him not just wanting more, but rabid for it.  The video file is sent before you've even pulled your fingers from their spot resting on your clit.

Minutes passed, you were sure he was watching.  The man lived for your exhibitionism.  

mini 3:06 pm- you better have your hands behind your back and be on your knees when i get home, little one. In the middle of the bedroom floor. 

mini 3:06 pm- i want you to listen to the music and think about me fucking you.  Think about how i destroy your little cunt so good.

mini 3:07 pm- but don’t you dare touch yourself.  Your pussy is only mine to play with, you got that?

me 3:07 pm- yes daddy 

mini 3:07 pm- good.  I’ll be home soon.

Congratulations, you smirk to yourself in the mirror's reflection across from you.  You’ve won the grand prize.  Please make sure you collect your prize from the man with the raging boner.

You idly realize that Jimin hasn’t told you when he’ll be home.  You know that on any normal day he’d be home at 5:30.  But was he leaving early?  Could you chance it?  As much as you wanted to disobey and face his delicious punishment, he also could just as easily punish you by not letting you cum at all. And the chances of that type of discipline tonight was high; Jimin would surely make you pay for teasing him at work by exacting torturous ache the same to you.

You’re spinning the pros and cons of preparing yourself now or later, when you are given your hasty answer by the sound of keys jingling in the front door.  Your heart rate spikes dangerously, feeling like the muscle would force the blood out of your veins with the pressure.  

You squirm off the bed and descend to the floor on your knees, resting back on your heels, and holding your hands behind your back.  You lower your head to the floor, knowing Jimin loves it when you avoid eye contact until he tells you when and where to look.  

His footsteps are heavy, slow and torturous because you know that he knows that you’ll be on the very edge of your sanity.  The warmth in your belly is torched with tinder and starter and is flaring high.  Jimin’s simple presence, just like this, is enough to get you to an incredible high.  Nothing brings you to your knees faster than when he turns from your sweet, adorable and gentle husband into the sadistic and powerful dominating owner of your body and soul.

It takes 5 deep breaths from your belly before you hear Jimin enter the bedroom.  He’s not saying a single word, but you can hear his soft footsteps on the hardwood floor.  Your knees are aching at the pressure of the hard floor, but you ignore it. You’d ignore cauterizing wounds for the man hovering above you if he asked. 

You’re trembling, you notice.  Your thighs are quivering ever so slightly and the grasp on your hands behind you is weakening.  You grip harder, determined to maintain perfect correct form.

Jimin is frustratingly silent.  He walks around you, and you feel his eyes rove your body intently, as if looking for fault or reason to punish you.  He seems pleased when he finishes his rounds, standing right in front of you. 

“Look at me,” he states with authority, but his tone is gentle. 

You finally tilt your head up to gaze at your lover and nearly gasp at the sight.  Jimin is, on an average day, the most ethereally beautiful man you’ve ever seen.  Today, he looks as if he descended from heaven mere minutes previous.  His pink hair is pushed back, eyes darkened with desire, and wearing the tightest shirt you’ve ever seen, making his toned dancer’s body ripple under the cotton.  Tight sweats that leave nothing to the imagination about what he’s packing between his thighs sit low on his hips and you spot just a hint of his lower abdomen, the v line of his adonis belt, and you’re sure you’re drooling.

“Look at me,” he corrects, a smirk on his face.  Your eyes snap to his own again, and he winks at you. 

“Have you been a good girl for daddy?” He asks, and it feels like a loaded question.  

You play it coy.  “Yes, daddy.”

He stands still in front of you, hand stroking his face as he watches you.  His eyebrow arches.

“Are you sure? You have done nothing to upset Daddy? Nothing at all?” His voice becomes teasing, and the smirk on his features is sinister.

You bite your lip. “I sent Daddy a video of me, touching myself to his music.”

“That’s right, angel,” he murmurs and circles you again.  You feel like his prey before he comes in for the kill. “You made daddy leave practice early.  Don’t you think that’s not being a good girl?”

“No, I did wrong.”

“I’m glad you agree,” he murmurs.  “I’m gonna make you regret getting Daddy hard and horny at work.”

He places his hands on your shoulders and you shiver.  His hands are smooth, warm.  You love the way you feel the cold steel of his wedding ring pressed to your skin, a tangible expression of his love and loyalty.

“Stand up,” he directs.  You’re quick, thankful to be off stinging knees.  He lets his hands glide down your back to meet at your clasped hands, pulling them apart and turning you to face him.

He threads his fingers through your hair and pulls you close, sealing your lips to his.  His lips are soft and taste of chapstick, a hint of sweat, and something just so simply Jimin that is addictive.  He’s gentle and tender in the kiss, the kind of kiss a husband gives his wife.  It speaks miles beyond the simple action, and you chase it, revel in it, knowing it’s the last time he’ll be gentle tonight.  

He breaks from the kiss, touches your nose gently and winks.  It makes your heart flutter in your chest.

The control seeps back into his face; it's physically present in the tight gaze of his eyes and the coolness of his impassive features.  It’s a stark opposite of who just kissed you, and you’re breathless at the sudden change.  

“Gonna spank you with my belt, baby,” he murmurs.  A hand slaps hard against your ass, surprising you and making you squeak out loud.  “Lean over my desk like a good little slut.”

You obey immediately, jerking your body towards his grand oak desk. It’s gorgeous dark wood that matches the decor of your room perfectly and makes for a delicious spot for your sexual proclivities without being obvious.  As much as Jimin wanted a sex swing, you would not cave to that.

You bend to fold your body over the desk, gripping the edge and pushing your hips back to allow for more access to your husband.  The speaker system by your bed plays music, and you recognize the opening chords as one from his latest album with his six best friends. A smile slips to your face as the volume turns up, quiet enough you can talk, but loud enough it’s noticeable. His smooth, melodic voice is ringing through your bedroom and through your entire body. 

He stalks in behind you and rubs at your soft globes.

“Mmm, you look so pretty in this,” he compliments.  “You know I love seeing you in red.”

You turn your head to gaze at him, smiling.  “That’s why I bought it, Daddy.”

“Good little bitch,” he sighs.  

As expected, he rips the underwear from your body with one clean pull.  You’re always surprised by the action. He never gives warning.  Your eyes follow as the useless fabric soars towards the ground. 

“Much better.”

He moves away from you, walking towards the closet.  You train your eyes forward, keeping locked on the wall ahead of you, rather than staring.  Jimin tells you when and where to look and you follow that.

The gentle clinking noise of a belt buckle causes your pussy to quake.  You’ve been slowly moistening since you sent the first text, but you were now starting to drip as if you were overflowing.  By the end of the night, you’ll be drowning in it.

He’s behind you again as quick as he left and he rubs the leather belt against your bare behind. 

“What’s your word?” He asks, soothing at the skin with the device that will soon maar it.  Jimin is ever careful, checking on your mental and emotional safety as well as your physical, and ensured a safe word was in place each time.

“Red,” you assert.  He hums his approval and kisses your ass once, one quick little peck, before he lifts back up to standing.

“Count for me, little whore.”

The crack of the belt spanking your cheek electrifies you.  You feel as if every muscle in your body clenches as the sting vibrates through your buttocks and down to your core.  

“O-one!” You’re shouting, distracted by the pain in your ass to care about your pitch.

Crack. The next slap lands on the other cheek now, and you hiss at the pain.  It bites at your skin, and it soaks your pussy. 

“Two!”

He delivers the next straight in the center, hitting both cheeks and letting the sizzle melt its way to a pleasure that’s reverberating through your core.

“Three! Fuck!” you gasp. 

SMACK.  It’s the hardest yet and tears well up in your eyes at the initial whollop, before your hips are writhing and desperate for friction.

“Four!” You’re wailing and you know it makes your husband go even wilder.

“Stay still or I won’t let you cum for a month,” he grits.  Your hips stay put, knowing he’s a man of his word and not wanting to face his wrath.

He continues his barrage, and you’re counting out 15 strikes before he stops.  You’re sobbing, the pain and pleasure surging so forcefully through your veins that your cunt clenches around nothing and you’re dripping onto the wood of the desk.

His warm hands are soothing at the reddened flesh of your ass, the sensation stinging at first, but oozes away to a relaxing warmth against the punished skin.

“Good girl, baby,” he commends you, hands rubbing all over your flesh. “Took your punishment like such a good girl.”

You sniffle in reply and he pulls you up, making you stand on wobbly legs.  He twists you around and pecks your lips again, a reminder that Jimin, your husband, is still there and loves you more than he loves life itself.  It soothes you more than any salve could and it steels your resolve to continue.  It’s easy to submit and thrill at the loss of control when you trusted the master with your entire being.  

“Color?” He asks, checking in with you.

“Green,” you smile. 

He’s pleased with your answer.  He pulls away from you and pushes you towards the bed.

“Lay down on your back.  Head off the side.  I’m going to fuck your throat, and you will take it all.”

You’re giddy as you saunter to the bed and notice that Jimin is proud of the blooming red of your ass.  It’ll be a literal pain in the ass to sit tomorrow, but it’s worth all the doting and affection you’ll receive in return for being such a good girl for him.  The music has changed, another sensual track featuring your talented husband.  It sends shivers down you, straight to your core.

You maneuver your body to lie on the bed, grateful for the soft blanket on your burning ass, and tip your head off the bed.  Your mouth opens complacently and Jimin shoves his sweats down to reveal his hardened length.

You’re licking your lips like his dick is the finest meal money can buy, and he chuckles.  His left hand strokes it, shivering at the cold press of his wedding ring mixing with the heat of his hand. 

“You want my cock?” He asks.

You nod, captivated with the motion he strokes the shaft.  You almost forget to speak, but his harsh gaze is like a whip.

“Yes! Yes, I want your cock Daddy!”

“Tell me what you want to do to me,” he hums.

Well, this would be too easy.

“I want to suck you dry, let you fuck my throat so I can’t breathe.  I’ll let you cum down my throat and make my face so messy from cum and spit that it gets in my eyes and messes up my pretty makeup, daddy.”

His strokes have become faster, and he sucks in hard for air. “Such a filthy fucking mouth.”

You open said mouth again, letting your tongue hang out like a welcome sign to your throat.

He growls, it’s guttural, and it feels as if it’s positioned on your clit, vibrating the nub.  Your bliss is cut short as he drives his thick dick into your mouth and directly to the back of your throat, leaving you no time to prepare.  You whine slightly around it, and he tsks.

“Don’t you fucking dare whine.  Take it all,” he sounds ruthless and your pussy quakes.

He sets a punishing pace, the tip of his dick ramming through your throat.  It doesn’t take long for it to become messy, saliva trickling from your mouth, falling towards your eyes due to the angle of your supine head.  Jimin sounds angelic, the moans that leave the dancer’s body should be recorded and played for an audience, you think.  You’d suffer through hours of this for the reward of his sweet voice crying out your name.

“Fuck, my little cock slut loves it when I fuck her throat, hmm,” he asks, breathy and harsh.  You nod as much as you can.

“Yeah, that’s right.  You love daddy’s cock, don’t you? You love it when I fucking choke the shit out of you with my fat cock, huh?”

The voice of an angel with the words of the devil himself.  The duality is intoxicating and you are head over heels for both Jimin’s inside of him, every aspect of the man you pledged your life to.

“Mmm, you suck me so good,” he’s groping at your tits through the fabric of your bra.  You’re surprised that it’s still on, but you trust he’s aware and always has a plan.  

“Are you crying, baby?” He asks mockingly.  Tears and saliva mix and your face is completely ruined by it.  You nod again and blink.  “Good, fucking choke on it.” he goes even faster and you’re moaning.  It hurts and the gag reflex is there, but the pain gets you off, and you know the second it became too much, your husband would stop in an instant.  

“Little sluts get their face fucked when they disobey daddy,” he chides, emphasising each word with a thrust.  

It’s as if you’re desperate for his orgasm, wanting nothing more than to swallow every ounce of what he spills into you, clean him up and ask for more.  He won’t have that tonight, it seems, as he’s pulling out of you as quickly as he entered.

“I want to cum in this tight little cunt,” he bites.  You slither up from your position and wipe at your eyes, resting against the pillow after he orders you to remove the bustier.  He asks that you leave the belt and stockings on, however. 

“Spread those pretty thighs for me, baby,” he’s discarded his shirt and is sitting ahead of you, watching you.  His gaze turns you on and opens you up like a flower.

Your thighs are spread far and you lean back further onto the pillows to put the star of the show on display.  You’re coated with your slick; it’s slathered up and down your thighs and dripping onto the duvet below you.  He breathes out in appreciation.

“I think my favorite thing about you is how fucking wet you get for me.”  He’s still not moving and you want to beg him to touch you, please do something, but refrain.  “You feel like a fucking dream when I’m inside you.”

“B-baby,” you break character and freeze, but he ignores it and allows you to continue as you sigh with relief. “I need you.”

“Do you now?” he banters, and you nod with wide, needy eyes.

“Touch yourself for me, then.  Show me how badly you want daddy’s cock in you.”

A hand flies to your cunt in record time and you’re desperately eager to spread the lips of your folds apart and rub at your slick and swollen clit.  A breathy, heady moan escapes you at the friction you’ve been aching for since you sent the sexy photo hours ago. 

“Fuck!” you shout, circling the bud.  Jimin’s eyes are glued to your hands, and he watches with awe. 

“Finger yourself,” he demands and you’re obeying before he’s even finished speaking, two fingers slipping down to enter your channel.  You arch off the bed and grip a breast in your other hand, flicking at the nipple for extra sensation.  

He coos at you as you fuck yourself with wild abandon, gasping his name as you slip deeper with each thrust.  

“Add another.”  His voice maintains its even quality, maintained and cool.  But if you opened your eyes, you’d see that he’s salivating at the sight, desperately restraining himself.  His cock is weeping pre-cum and he could explode in an instant watching this too long.

Your ring finger slips in with the other two and you’re keening at the stretch.  The pain is gone in a flash, just a pinch that simmers to a desperate pleasure.  

“You look so fucking good, baby,” he breaks his composure, momentarily.  He’s so in love with you, every single fucking bit, that he can’t help it.  “God, you’re beautiful.”

His words have you blushing, as if they’re the most lewd part of the evening and not the fact you’re fingering yourself in front of your husband while he watches and orders you around.

“Rub your clit with your other hand, love.”

The pressure of your added hand on your clit and the fingers thrusting into you has you soaring to your high and your throat chokes on the air.  “O-oohhh fuckkk!” You whine.

“You close, baby?  You gonna cum on those cute little fingers and get them messy for daddy?” He asks, voice violently serene.

“Y-yes! Please, I want to cum,” you beg.  You know the rules, he tells you where and when your body receives its pleasure.

“You wanna cum?” He asks again, and you feel a spike of irritation.  He’s already asked you that, haven’t you already answered?

“So badly, daddy! Please! C-close.” Words are escaping your mental capacity now.  You’re there, nearly there, just one little tiny string holding you back from the edge of euphoria.

“Too bad.”  

Your fingers are pulled from your cunt quickly and you’re crying.  Tears are forming in your eyes as you feel an ache deep to your womb.  You had been so close, so deliciously close.  Jimin knows this, thrills at watching you edge further and further through the night.  You won’t admit it at the moment, it’s pure torture then, but the buildup to the finale is indescribable.

“You don’t get to fucking cum until I tell you to cum.  Do you understand me?”

“Yes, yes! Yes, Daddy,” you babble, nearly incoherent from arousal and denial. 

He makes you writhe there, pussy so slick its soaking the blankets and you’ll have to change them later but the only thing you think about is your cunt, your weeping cunt that’s screaming to release. 

You feel your breath slowing and know that Jimin wants you to come back down to earth before he’ll bring you up again.

“Good fucking girl,” he kisses your belly, licking at the navel.  He whispers quiet words of adoration as he trails down your abdomen and end at the top of your mound.  Your legs are shaking, no, they’re nearly convulsing from need.

He spreads your folds, and it’s pornographic the way he spits on your pussy, as if it needs any more wetness.  It’s not about the wetness, though, and you know it.  It’s about the message, the ownership.  

“My favorite little fuck toy,” he murmurs, lightly tracing everywhere but the bud throbbing with need for friction.  “I can’t wait to cum inside this little pussy tonight.  Gonna flood your whole fucking cunt, babe.”

Jimin knows the way to your heart, and the way to your orgasms is through his words.  Gentle whispered ‘i love you’s’ in the day and disgusting filth at night.  It’s just another reason in a list of a million why you work so well together. 

“Should we get you nice and pregnant tonight?  You want to make a baby?”  

You nearly sob at his words.  He can fuck you harder with his words than his cock.

“Please!” You’re yelling, tears streaming down your face. “P-please! I want your baby.”

He leans down and smiles for a moment before speaking. “Well, my little wife will always get what she wants when she asks so nicely.”  His lips attach to your clit, suctioning it into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it.  It’s swollen and slick, and it feels like fucking heaven.  His plushy lips are working for it, taking you so desperately close to the edge.  

You’re gasping a symposium of his name and praising the ground he walks on.  You’re sure if you died now you’d die a very fucking happy woman.  The world around you is gone, and it’s just Jimin’s sinful mouth suckling at your cunt.

You’re close again, and Jimin knows it.  You’re begging, pleading with him, but it’s useless as he roughly pulls away.

The music continues on in the background.  It’s lighter, and Jimin croons in the speaker as he grunts in your ear.

He muffles your anguished cry with a messy kiss that tastes of you, and he’s thrusting into you.  The slickness guides him in easily and he’s whining against you at the feel of your walls accept him and hugging him tightly as if they’ve missed his cock swelling within them.

“JIMIN!” You’re seeing fireworks as your husband fucks into you, holding you close to him.  It’s as rough and kinky as it is intimate and sweet.  He holds you, cherishes you, while he’s pistoning his thick member into your loud, drenched cunt.  

“I love you,” he whispers, slipping a thumb into your mouth that you suck at eagerly, as skilled with his fingers as you are with his cock.  “I love you so fucking much.”

His eyes align with yours, yours full of tears of absolute unrivaled pleasure, and his with full and never-ending devotion. 

You’re both so close, and you pull him against you to kiss his lips.  You want to connect completely to him as you cum, as he spills into your womb and creates something, someone there. 

Your cunt flutters intensely, quaking in anticipation as it builds and builds and builds.  Jimin breaks the kiss to breathe and warn you, “I’m going to cum soon, baby, please cum with me.”  He’s gentle and sweet, the Jimin who cries at love stories and wears flower crowns now present inside you.  You nod quickly, gasping as the coil winds tighter and tighter.  

Your kissing is messy, passionate, and your hands grasp him everywhere.  You’re tugging at his toned arms and solid back, seeking refuge as the tidal wave grows impossibly high, higher, so so high,

And crashes into you at 100 miles per hour.  Your cunt is contracting and pulsing around him so intensely you nearly black out, crying loudly into his mouth.  He’s groaning with you, the feeling of your already impossibly tight walls clenching down on him demands the orgasm out of him.  He’s cupping your whole face in his hands as he spills into you and your walls suck him in further, so far he could disappear completely.  

It feels as if you orgasm for hours, but it's merely minutes later that you’re trying to catch your breath and slip back into reality.  You’re clinging to each other like last lifelines and the gaze between you is so intense it clenches at your racing heart.  

The silence between you two is long and speaks an entire conversation before your lips even open.  He’s singing so sweetly through the speaker, it sounds like he’s singing directly to you.  “I love you,” you’re whispering to him.

He rubs at your cheeks in his palms, wiping away stray tears of bliss that have slipped down your face.

“I love you.”

You settle into him, unwilling to move a single inch away from your husband, and marvel at the beauty that is your life, your future.  

Jimin holds you close, kisses you gently and sings softly along to the music as you fall asleep, and he adores the fact that he holds his entire world, his future, in his arms.

© ppersonna - 2020 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.