#but i had this sudden burst of inspiration and was in a really good mood

[joyridingmp3]

me rn ^_^

[love-and-greta]

Chasing the Moon

It’s been on my list to add to the Josh & Birdie universe, and the lovely @sluttywagner gave me just the push that I needed. This one’s for you!

Enjoy Josh & Birdie’s engagement story. I hope you all like it!

Warnings: mainly fluff and some slight sexual content (18+ please)

____________________________________________

“Birdie! Back a bag baby, we’re going to the lake house!”, Josh announced loudly as he walked in through the front door of your shared home.

“Oh really? And when did we make this plan?”, you called back from the living room. You had just settled down onto the couch with a book and a cup of hot tea, your favorite blanket wrapped snuggly around your legs.

“About an hour ago.”

Josh rounded the corner into the living room, and quickly made his way over, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and placed a kiss on your temple.

“Let me guess. Jake had a sudden burst of inspiration and needs some time out in the woods,” you mused, pulling Josh onto your lap.

“No..it’s actually just gonna be you and me. If you’ll go with me?” Josh asked quietly, a small quiver in his voice.

“Of course I’ll go with you J. Why wouldn’t I?”

Josh didn’t answer you back, but instead gave you a sheepish smile, his cheeks turning the softest shade of pink.

“I’d go anywhere with you. You know that. Right?”, you asked softly, slightly confused by Josh’s apparent embarrassment. Or maybe nerves? You weren’t entirely sure. You couldn’t help but to reach out and rub your thumb over his blushed cheek.

Josh nodded slowly and placed a lingering kiss on your lips.

“I’d go anywhere with you too Birdie,” Josh muttered quietly.

“Well now that that’s settled, get the hell off of me so I can get ready,” you teased, trying to wiggle out from under him. You weren’t sure exactly what was going on with Josh, but you knew he needed an energy shift to lighten the mood.

Josh chuckled, and spread himself out across your body.

“But I’m so comfortable babe,” Josh replied, giving you an award winning smile.

“You know what? You’re right. Let’s just stay on the couch all night.” You pretended to yawn and snuggled even further into the cushion.

“Fine, fine I’ll get up!”, Josh surrendered, standing up and pulling you with him.

———

The hour long drive to the lake house was oddly quiet. Road-trips with Josh usually consisted of your own version of carpool karaoke, sung at an ear splitting volume.

But tonight, Josh kept the stereo volume low, with both hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. At this point you were more confused than ever by Josh’s nervous demeanor.

“Is everything okay Josh?”, you blurted out, not wanting to hold it in any longer. “You’re acting weird…”

Josh’s eyes grew wide and you watched as he focused on controlling his breathing. He took a deep breath in before responding.

“Yeah, I’m sorry Birdie…I know I’ve been acting strange. I just really want this weekend to be special…not gonna lie, it’s making me a little nervous”, Josh answered slowly, taking a quick glance at you.

“Anytime spent with you is more than I could ever ask for babe.” You reached over and laced your fingers into Josh’s free hand.

“Sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve you,” Josh replied, a small smile spreading across his lips.

“Well you do. And I’m sorry to say it, but you’re stuck with me. Permanently,” you stated matter-of-factly.

Josh brought your hand to his lips, kissing your skin gently.

“Good,” he muttered against your skin.

_____

Due to a bit of traffic, you pulled up to the lake house later than you had planned. The sun had set and Josh was bummed that the two of you weren’t able to watch it’s decent behind the mountains surrounding the lake.

“I know it’s getting dark, but maybe we could take a walk around the lake?”, you suggested. “I wanna stretch my legs after that long drive.”

“Yeah okay, we can do that,” Josh replied. “Let’s go.” He laced his fingers in yours and the two of you walked down to the shoreline.

_____

It wasn’t long before you were in complete darkness, and your path was lit only by the light of the full moon. Josh was quiet and seemed to be mesmerized by the moon’s reflection on the surface of the water. And you couldn’t blame him. The moon was the palest of yellows and it’s light glistened and shimmered across the smooth dark water. A beam of light connecting the water to the sky as if they were one.

“Don’t you wish you could just reach out and touch it?,” you spoke softly.

“What? The moon?”, Josh questioned, seemingly being pulled out of his thoughts.

“Yeah. Up in the sky it feels light years away. But there, on the water, it seems like I could just scoop it up. It’s one of the most beautiful things I think I’ve ever seen.”

You both stopped in front of a short wooden dock to gaze at the water.

“Well, let’s go catch it then.” Josh pointed to the end of the dock, where a small wooden row boat was tethered by a rope.

“We can’t just hijack someone’s boat Josh,” you giggled. “Plus, the moon’s reflection doesn’t just stay put in one spot.. we’ll never catch it.”

“We’re getting in the boat Birdie”, Josh proclaimed. “Come on, it will be worth it. I promise.” He looked at you pleadingly and began pulling you down the dock.

“Fine, but I swear to god Joshua Michael, if you tip us over, I will kill you,” you relented, making Josh cackle loudly.

It was a miracle the two of you even made it onto the boat. As soon as Josh stepped into it, the boat began sloshing back and forth rapidly and Josh nearly lost his balance. After he finally steadied the boat, it took quite a bit of convincing before you carefully lowered yourself onto the bench next to him.

You soon realized that Josh really was determined to get this boat into the beam of light skimming across the water just out of reach in front of you. Every few strokes of the oars, Josh would mutter to himself, “almost there…just a few more feet.”

After what felt like ten minutes, you placed your hand on top of Josh’s to stop him from paddling any further.

“Ah fuck it,” Josh sighed. “I just wanted to get you right into that moonlight.” He looked up at you from under his eyelashes and chuckled quietly.

You leaned forward, kissing his lips gently. “Don’t beat yourself up Kiszka. It’s the thought that counts,” you muttered against his lips. You felt him smile and pulled back to return the gesture.

“Hey Birdie?”, Josh asked quietly, his voice growing shaky.

“Yeah?”

“You wanna know the first time I knew I wanted to be with you forever? That-that you were my person?” Josh gulped audibly and turned his whole body towards you. All you could do was nod your head. The two of you had always teased about being together forever, but you had never wanted to put any real pressure on Josh, knowing how vulnerable he felt about giving himself fully to you. You reached over to grab his hands, knowing your touch would help anchor him. Josh took a deep breath and looked into your eyes.

“Remember that night we went skinny dipping? Out at the lake? You were standing in the water, and your skin was glowing under the moonlight, like it is right now…and I just knew you were the one. Everything about you that night was intoxicating. The way the stars reflected in your eyes…the feeling of your skin under my fingertips. You were so soft. Like velvet. And I didn’t want to stop touching you. The way you laughed, with your eyes all scrunched up. That right there has always been music to my ears…I swear you were like a siren coming out of the water to capture my heart and I wished so badly in that moment that you would keep it forever. When we went back to the tent, and you fell asleep on my chest, I prayed and prayed to the universe that you felt the same way I did and that one day you would choose me to be only yours.”

You felt tears begin to well in your eyes hearing Josh’s sentiments. “You are mine Josh…” you whispered. “You always have been.”

Josh smiled softly, with glassy eyes of his own. “Well I wanted to ask you something earlier, but I think right now is a better time than ever.”

He reached into his jacket pocket and with a shaky hand pulled out a small wooden box. There was no denying the fact that your heart had come to a full stop when you saw what he was doing.

“Wait, Josh? Are-are you proposing??”, you managed to squeak out, a whole colony of butterflies now occupying your stomach.

“Yeah, I would really like to…is that okay?”, Josh giggled nervously, his cheeks now blushing a brilliant shade of red.

You nodded your head rapidly, too stunned to speak, and Josh attempted to kneel on one knee in front of you without rocking the boat too violently. Once the boat was steady, Josh looked up at you with pure adoration in his eyes and took both of your hands into his.

“Y/n, I mean it when I say you’re the only one for me. You’re my world, my everything. You’re the only one I want to come home to, you’re the voice I want to hear on the phone when I’m away. You’re the only person I want to wake up next to every morning. All I can picture when I look at you, is you walking down the aisle towards me. Birdie, it would mean the absolute world and more to me if you would be my wife.”

You could now feel the tears trickling down your cheeks as you watched the man of your dreams proclaim his love to you.

“Please just ask me already Josh”, you choked out, cupping your hands against his cheeks.

Josh giggled, turning his face to kiss your hand and bent down to pick up the box he had placed on the floor of the boat.

With tears happily falling from his own eyes, Josh opened the box to reveal your ring, a single oval diamond on a thin gold band, that glistened brightly in the moonlight. Your heart stopped again seeing the ring. It was absolutely perfect. Perfect because Josh had picked it out just for you.

“Birdie…will you marry me?”

“Yes, yes, yes! A million times yes!”, you cried grabbing Josh’s face and pulling him into a deep kiss.

“Babe, let me put the ring on your finger,” Josh giggled into your lips.

“Okay, okay”, you laughed and held your left hand out towards Josh. He slowly slipped the ring onto your finger, as if this was the most important task in the world.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt is happy in my entire life”, Josh whispered softly to you.

“Me neither,” you replied. “I love you so so much Josh.”

“More, baby, I love you so so much more. More than you’ll ever know.” Josh cradled your head in his hands and pulled you back in for a deep kiss. “Thank you. Thank you for saying yes,” Josh muttered in between kisses.

Your heart was so full of love in this moment, you thought it was going to explode. You deepened the kiss even more, trying to convey your feelings with your lips. You slipped your tongue past Josh’s lips, pulling a moan from deep within his chest. He wrapped his arms around your waist and quickly pulled you closer to his body, causing the boat the rock uneasily from the sudden movement. Josh began to chuckle when he noticed you start to panic. He gave you one last quick peck to your lips before slowly sitting back down on the bench and grabbing the oars.

“Alright Birdie. Let’s get you safely back to shore so I can make sweet sweet love to my fiancé,” Josh winked and smiled sweetly at you.

“Fiancé. You’re never gonna stop saying that now huh?”, you teased, lovingly rolling your eyes.

“Nope. Well, at least not until you’re my wife.”

[disdaidal]

🥮 🍣 🍜 🍲

Hei 🤗👋

🥘 What category do most of your fics fall under?

Fluff, angst, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, definitely. XD Some established relationship and mature content (smut, violence) as well. But I'm a simple person and I like simple things I guess. 🤷‍♀️

🍣 What helps you focus or get in the mood to write?

I wish I knew the right answer to this because honestly, most of the time when I write, it's usually because I literally forced myself into it or because I got this sudden burst of inspiration/energy out of nowhere and just dove right into it. xD But I'm very easily distracted unfortunately. :/

🍜 Do you ever feel pressured to write?

When I was more active in the HG fandom, I kind of felt like that sometimes. I don't know why. Maybe it's because at one point I seemed to get a lot of headcanon and prompt asks, which, don't get me wrong- I loved getting and I was flattered that people wanted me to write them for them. ♥ But at the same time, I felt kind of pressured and kind of anxious to write because I didn't want to let these people down and so. Most of my fics on ao3 were kind of written under that kind of 'pressure', for other people and now that I'm thinking about it afterwards, I hardly even remember what I wrote in all those fics anymore. 🙈 Which is a little sad and pathetic I think. But yeah, it's the truth.

Currently? I think the only "pressure" I'm having to write is my own, personal pressure for my Witcher rarepair because, not only I want to that story finished one day, I also want to get the chapter one posted on ao3 any day now. XD I've rewritten chapter one like hundred times already, I feel like I'm soon going insane. 🤪 But I will post it (not that anybody cares really but hey- self-indulgence!).

🍲 When did you start writing and why?

I first started writing in elementary school because I was watching a lot of tv and I was also this "quiet dreamer", so I had a lot of ideas I guess. My first writings were original writing, with ocs and so on.

When fanfiction became a thing in my life, I guess it's still the same, just with premade characters. I have a lot of ideas and dreams and writing about them, building worlds and stories and relationships around them feels good I guess. Maybe because I'm a sad sack of shit that doesn't have much social life, but has dreams, so. <3

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

Whumptober Day 3: Isolation and Overstimulation

Disc finale bad ending AU. Studying the effects of Tommy's hypersensitivity after revival, Dream uses the fear of being alone Tommy has to be allowed to preen his wings, despite the sensory overload of revival. Warnings for hypersensitivity and sensory overload, some body horror with revival, abuse, torture, manipulation, isolation, human experimentation, and forced family dynamics.

this is inspired by the time i was having a meltdown and my dad decided the best way to comfort me was ruffling my hair. i love you dad but you’re also stupid.

ao3 link

—— Coming back to life fucking sucked.

Limbo was shitty, sure, but he’d rather stay there and sleep forever or something than go through the sheer unbridled awfulness of revival. Limbo hurt, but it was the lingering pain of death- honestly, it wasn’t even that fucking bad if Dream was in one of those rare moods he didn’t treat making Tommy’s death as prolonged and torturous as possible as the most fun game in the whole world. It was nothing compared to the sheer agony of revival.

It was indescribable, but out of the sheer boredom Tommy’s life was defined by outside of the terror of Dream’s experiments, the twisted feelings of almost-happiness when Dream forced him to pretend they were all friendly like, and the sobbing fits he went into whenever he thought of Tubbo had left him with a lot of time to find the closest description possible, solely to never tell it to Dream out of spite. Or maybe to tell it to him straight away, and be a good friend and be allowed maybe a modicum of freedom. It depended on whether he was having a normal day or one of the ones where he wished even Dream was around to spare him from the tedium and boredom of being locked in a boiling hot cell with literally nothing to do.

It was like if you were a jumper. Dying was like if you were unravelled into a mess of wool, and obviously, that hurt like shit, but once you were a pile of thread, it didn’t really get worse. But being revived? It was like if you were knitted back together, but like, by a really shitty knitter. It was like you had holes poked in you and sewn together wrong and when you were finished, you had like three arms and were full of holes, meaning you couldn’t even keep anything warm anymore, and then you just had to be a shitty jumper in pain and unable to do anything forever as you unravelled again but even worse.

It wasn’t a perfect analogy because it made it sound way too nice. It didn’t even get into how it felt like his soul had been shattered and glued together haphazardly, then sent through a fucking shredder. It didn’t get into the fainting spells or the brain fog, or when he’d spend all day curled up around the sink vomiting a pitch-black fluid that eroded at the walls and the porcelain. But it was the closest he’d managed to describing the sheer agony.

It was quick, but that felt less like a mercy and more like another torture. A sudden burst of agony without warning burned through him, one second in limbo, the next forced back into his own decaying corpse, the walls wailing and the lights blinding. The bedsheets underneath him were soft, but the bloodstains dug into him painfully, and the texture of it hurt. The taste of iron in his mouth made him feel sick, and the smell of perfume barely covering up rot stung his eyes and nose.

Involuntarily, Tommy let out a cry of pain, but the reverberations through his throat felt like a thousand tiny knives. Dream said something, probably either mocking or the fake nice thing he did when pretending they were friends, but it blurred together into an incomprehensible noisy mess. He put his hands over his ears, rocking back and forth as he curled into the tightest ball he could.

The feeling of something heavy on his head, ruffling across it and leaving behind a tingling pain wherever it touched, made him squeeze up even tighter, letting out a squeak of pain. It felt like little bugs had laid their eggs in his scalp where the pressure was, digging through his skull and his brain, painful and, above all else, uncomfortable beyond description, leaving him squirming and trying to avoid it.

“Prime, Tommy, you don’t need to act like I’m killing you, geez.” Dream’s voice was barely audible through the static of the echo against the wall, the lava sizzling, Tommy’s own laboured breath. Vaguely, he registered that he wasn’t angry. More… amused. Curious.

Dream being curious was never good.

Suddenly, a light touch poked at his wings, and despite how brief the contact was, it sent an explosion of pain through Tommy’s body, like knives through his flesh. White hot pain flashed through the delicate bones and malformed, underdeveloped flesh underneath, flashing like electricity. It was like drowning in a sea of stars, their touch burning and gnawing through him. He couldn’t breathe through the void of space in his lungs.

The noise that came from his throat wasn’t a scream; it was something more guttural, less coherent. A howling, piercing screech of agony, one that echoed off the walls in a cacophonous symphony. Something like laughter joined it too, one he vaguely recognised as Dream’s wheezing giggles. It was a horrible, overwhelming sound.

“Sorry, sorry!” Dream’s voice was barely recognisable over the dim static, even as the wall of noise faded. “I just couldn’t help myself, y’know? You’re so sensitive over your wings. It’s so funny.”

“Hurts.” Tommy barely more than mouthed the word, shivering violently. “Hurts.”

“Interesting.” Dream hummed, and Tommy flinched violently, expecting another touch, but Dream only observed. “It doesn’t always hurt if they’re touched, though, right? I mean, I saw Tubbo preening your wings when they got dirty ages ago, and you didn’t seem upset by that. I mean, your feathers are a mess. It’s bothering me.”

“I… Tubbo…” 

Just thinking of Tubbo felt through a knife through the chest, a worse pain than anything physical Dream could inflict. The screams, the rattling sound of his breath as he slipped away, the glassy-eyed look of his corpse. Tommy had tried to take the quick, decisive blow initially meant to kill him, and as punishment, while Tommy was lying on the ground clutching his shattered ribs, Dream had drawn out Tubbo’s death, made Tommy watch it the whole time.

Maybe he deserved all this, making Tubbo suffer.

“… He- he knew how to do it without it making my skin feel like it was on fuckin’ fire.” Tommy cuddled his knees, hiding his face. He wasn’t giving Dream the fucking satisfaction of seeing him tear up. “It’s- like, I make my own clothes because everything else hurts, right? And I cook my own food and stuff.” 

He left out the fact it was meant to be a thing that was a bonding experience, done between parent and child, brothers and sisters, friends so close they were practically family. Letting someone he fucking despised like Dream do it would be like letting Dream cut his hair or patch up his wounds, uncomfortable and shitty. Something he knew from experience because Dream had done those, and it was fucking awkward.

Prime, he acted like a worried mother hen around Tommy, fretting and clingy as shit, at least when he wasn’t gleefully watching him bleed out onto the obsidian. He’d more likely get the latter if he protested, and as weird as it was that Dream was acting like they were brothers or something, at least it was better than dying.

“Can you tell me how to do it, then?” Dream’s voice was sickly sweet, and he could imagine the soft smile on his face. Honey poorly hiding poison. Tommy instinctively shook his head, but Dream ignored it. “I can’t stand the mess, so either I do it now, or I leave you alone until it’s time for the next experiment and do it while you’re a corpse. Or I could just cut off your wings, but I like them, so I’d rather not.”

Tommy’s blood ran cold at the word alone. Alone was a worse pain than any blow Dream could make, any words he could weave, a million times worse. Broken bones and infected wounds didn’t fester as painfully as the all-consuming guilt and loneliness that descended on the cell when Tommy was alone. Dream was cruel, taking joy in torturing and experimenting on Tommy in the way a child played with their favourite toys. Still, he was a person, one who’d give Tommy kindness and socialisation even when no one else would, and even if the idea of the slightest brush against his feathers made him feel sick, a single second alone felt even worse.

“I- please. You can stay, just don’t leave me alone.” Tommy spoke as loudly as he could, even though it felt like a sword down his throat to do so. “Please. We- we can be friends, just, don’t go, please-“

“Alright, alright! Prime, you’re so jumpy.” There wasn’t the slightest hint of annoyance in Dream’s tone, just what might have been restrained affection. The sort you’d give a misbehaving kitten, the tones Tommy once spoke to Henry with. “Honestly, I did need to study this at some point, y’know. It’s easier if I don’t have to deal with you scratching at me.”

Tommy barely had the time to process the words before he yelped at Dream sitting behind him on the bed, gently resting his hands just close enough to Tommy’s wings that he could feel their presence pricking at him like a thousand needles. “What do I do?”

“Uh, j-just… don’t touch the actual wing? Like, I know that makes no fuckin’ sense, but I can’t feel through my feathers, it’s like hair and shit, but my actual wings are all put together wrong, and it’s- even when I haven’t just been revived and shit, fucking hurts if they’re touched at all, because the bones are all wrong.”

Dream hummed, and slowly, agonisingly slowly, he gently ran his fingers through one of the iridescent feathers on Tommy’s wings. The slight pull felt like his nerves were being plucked straight out of his skin, like he was a star dying, bursting into a supernova and burning himself. Even the warm, comforting feeling the soft touch gave, like how the memories of laughter and watching the night skies in L’Manberg felt made manifest, was overwhelming, like being drowned in a life he’d no longer ever have.

When Tommy was younger, he remembered he used to hate hugs. They were nice, for a while, but then the feeling of warmth turned to burning on his skin, itchiness where the horrible clothes people somehow managed to wear, the pressure suddenly turning suffocating. He used to bite Wilbur sometimes, like a cornered cat. Once he was better at English, he’d been able to explain why it was bad- Wilbur said something about sensory issues and tried to take him to a doctor to get something beginning with A tested out, but apparently, you get kicked out if you show the doctor your knife collection- and he’d almost forgotten he’d hated it at all. 

His mind, though, desperately trying to make sense of the pain and overstimulation, replayed the memories in his head, like a broken disc mixed in with starbursts and lights brighter than the sun. It felt like those old days, the scary days, except Dream knew what the fuck he was doing and didn’t give a shit. That feeling offered some perverse sense of comfort.

Maybe he could pretend he was ten again, and Dream was Wilbur, and everything was normal, and his pain didn’t matter, and no one knew any better.

Instead of biting at anyone, Tommy bit his tongue until he tasted blood and put on a smiling mask. That, as agonising as it was, was better than being alone.

[ghost-proofbaby]

the epilogue!! I hadn't even had chance to gush about hour 24 and the epilogue is already here! both are just so amazing. I'm actually really glad for the time difference because I have woken up in the best mood now because of this🖤🖤

Him coming straight back for her in the last hour was just perfect. They get thier movie moment and it's so satisfying, 'I'm not very good with giving you space, it seems' 😍 very Edward Cullen 'I'm tired of trying to stay away from you' and I mean that as a huge compliment because I really did love twilight back in the day 🙈 And then the way she kisses him in between talking smack about him, just like he did to her the first time! Think this was my favourite part, besides her slapping Steve and Eddie immediately becoming scary dog. Or maybe Steve getting all flustered at the thought of them doing stuff. All of it was just perfect. Did the ending change for you as you continued writing, or did you have it planned that way from the beginning? I love how he uses the same line from the prologue, 'the feelings mutual' don't mind me, just swooning over here 🖤

And then the epilogue! Awe my gosh it was the perfect mix of everything that's happened in this fic. The pining and yearning is still there because they're hiding it from the others, both of them wanting to just come clean and be out in the open with eachother but not being ready. And her hiding how she's in love with him now. Hiding it from their friends because she's still hiding how she feels about him. Genius. And then the humour and just how well they fit together and how they sass eachother. I love it so much. Plus the smut 🔥 the best part of the smut, the part he was more desperate for than anything else when they were in his kitchen. Loved that you did that. Hot and romantic all at once 🖤

Eddie being so worried about keeping it from Nancy was really sweet, it makes it really clear that their friendship is such a good one, like when R says later on about them combining the best parts of eachother. Plus Nancy just knowing that things had changed. Maybe due Eddie's sudden lack of pining about R to her. Or just that it's in her nature to notice things. It's a really great part of this story, Steve and Robin's friendship is obviously written a ton due to the show, but I really like how you gave Eddie a similar platonic relationship of his own. I also like how Nancy confirms that Eddie talked about her a whole lot, even when sober. mainly because of Steve saying to her during that phone call that Eddie didn't really talk about her at all, it just wasn't to Steve.

The photo! 😍 Aaahh this was so precious. Him mentioning pictures especially at the phone shop and then him choosing that photo as his lock screen, he's just so slushy for her I can't stand it. found it hilarious that he purposefully let her wear his shirt to meet them, maybe wanting her to be the one to out them, but then it's him showing off the phone 🤣 and then neither of them are really sorry for it. My heart is bursting!

But. My absolute favourite part of this was the flashback to when he goes to get her, how she explains that she doesn't want or need to start over. That their past is just as important as their future and they shouldn't disregard it or forget. Not to hold on to the awful parts but because it means they know eachother now. At least that's how I take it, her saying that felt just as important as her 'I love you'. Making him realise again that even with all that they went through she'd never want to forget him or not chose him, like he was so worried about from the very start. It was the perfect thing to say to him. Such great writing, honestly.

I can't believe it's over already! You should be so proud, 100% not too much or unrealistic. Perfect. I'm so glad we all watched a random Netflix show and it inspired all this. Can't wait to get stuck back into Mordor and catch up. Much love! 🖤🖤

bat 😭😭😭

i can’t explain how much your long comments have always made my day, not even just with this fic but with shire as well. the fact you take time out of your day to let me into your brain after you’ve read just makes my lil writer’s heart so happy. it’s like, i kinda cracked open my skull and went “hey, here’s what’s inside!” and you just don’t hesitate to do the same right back and gah 😭 thank you so fucking much. i adore you.

there is so much to say here, but you pretty much hit all of the nails on the head. yes, 1000% i adored giving nancy and eddie that platonic friendship similar to robin and steve (nancy deserves to have more guy friends who aren’t turned into love interests in my opinion), i loved writing how eddie and r’s dynamic both changed but also really managed to stay the same, and i really loved bringing that flashback up. i think that’s the important part: they can’t erase that night. it’s part of their story. if i were r, i wouldn’t want to erase it — eddie may have already been in love with her, but that night was her getting to fall in love with him (or at least begin to).

as for the question of how the ending changed… the short answer is, no. i always knew i wanted to end with them on a good note. choosing each other despite all the shit that went down.

but the long answer? yes, it changed so very much. originally, hour 24’s events would be the epilogue. originally, the final hours between those two were going to be very angsty. for a very long time, eddie’s confession was going to be very different. a lot more vague and lot more left unsaid. there was meant to be an entire hour that would only be a singular line of “eddie didn’t return to the apartment for the entire hour.” in which he completely walked out on her after indirectly admitting he was in love with her.

the honest truth is i got more attached to their story than i had planned. similar situation has happened with mordor. i tend to plan a lot of my fics to have fairly sad/angsty endings, and i’ve always been that way as a writer in every fandom i’ve ever been in, but something about eddie makes it impossible for me to not give him a happy ending.

in every timeline, in every universe, in every situation — i just want to give him a happy ending.

and maybe some of my fics would be more epic or impactful if i stuck with those sad endings, but i think eddie went through enough in canon, and i think real life is cruel enough as it is. i think we all deserve soft epilogues. i think eddie deserves them, those of us who write him deserve them, and those of us who read the stories deserve them. idk. i’m getting a little overly sentimental but… yeah. i think i just want to write 100 happy endings for this fictional idiot, probably more, and i hope you all enjoy it as much as i do.

cheers to the fact we all decided to watch this random netflix show, and cheers to all the beauty and wonderfulness, all the love, that has come from it. 🥂🖤

[fabdante]

idk if anyone's getting my asks bc tumblr is ✨️like that✨️ but anyway for the fanfic ask game-

7, 42, and 46

ok ok so hi! hi, very late to answer this because tumblr did not send these to me until today, several months later? but its ok because i have the ask now and i tracked down the meme in question! thank you for sending these in!!

a link to the fan fic ask game!

7. Any worldbuilding you’re particularly proud of?

In some ATLA stuff I've been working on, I've been enjoying adding some more West Asia to things. There's not a lot of West Asian/North African influence on the show, but it's there (particularly with the Sand Benders) and I think it's fun to explore and add some more nuance to! Particularly because in both shows the Sand Benders are not really...presented with any nuance.

So I've been having fun adding more West Asia to the Earth Kingdom, particularly foods and different little cultural things here and there to bring more of that influence in! Especially because I think large parts of the fandom don't realize like...that this stuff is already in the show, that West Asia is part of Asia, and perhaps we would like to be presented as a little more then 'those horrible evil irredeemable desert people who stole Appa'.

(I also answered this one back in May with a somewhat different answer if you want to check that out!)

42. Have you ever received a comment that particularly stood out to you for whatever reason?

I also answered this in May but I have a new answer.

Since this ask was sent I posted my fic An Inexact Science and all the comments there were very sweet and kind however I also got this one bot that kills me:

Like....what does this mean asdfghjk is this good or bad?

46. Do you prefer writing on your phone or on a computer (or something else)? Do you think where you write affects the way you write?

I'm really really bad at typing on my phone (like can barely make it through a word without one typo at least bad) so I use my computer most of the time. I have also been extremely won over by Scrivener as it fits in perfectly with my typical writing process that I've had since I first started writing on the computer in like...middle school.

With art and writing I tend to start many projects at once and jump rapidly between them. Either due to not wanting to write a certain part, feeling like writing a certain mood or ship or character, or feeling a sudden burst of inspiration for something. So Scrivener definitely enables me to write this way due to how it's set up for you to write different things in sections and flip between them easily. All of my one shots are in one document and I just file through them accordingly. If a one shot gets too big though, I make it's own document for ease of editing and flipping between parts! If I didn't write on my computer I definitely wouldn't do this, it'd be a lot more work I think.

However I do sometimes write on my phone, mostly exclusively if I'm away from my computer and have an idea I NEED to get down. Ironically, sometimes this is some of my most fun stuff, probably because it's the type of writing that I just need to get out and that stuff is always the coolest I think.

thank you again for sending this ask!! and I'm sorry it took me until now to get to it I have no idea why it never sent and then decided to now like...several months later! But it was a delight to find!! (and I hope you don't mind me tagging you @judging-seahorse I just want to make sure you see that I finally saw this asdfghjkl)

[saunne]

Writing - Reflection and Personal Analysis (Pt 2)

(or the actual plan of what the rest of my NaNo will look like)

I have two main problems at the moment : Lack of STRUCTURE and lack of STYLE. And a less important BRAIN problem.

STRUCTURE

The biggest blockage comes from my lack of planning and the fact that until then I was writing in semi-improvisation. I had an overall plot line to follow, but nothing very detailed.

Which is the heart of the problem.

Because since this isn't a fanfic, I need a lot more careful planning. Chapter by chapter, I need to know what the chapter should be about, who we meet there, who we follow, what information we learn, what scenes take place there, what their purpose is, what clues I should slip in, what false routes pose... I need a step by step manual, a complete checklist, with scene fragments and possibly color coding.

So from now on, this is what I'm going to do for NaNo, officially switching to the Rebel side. No novel writing for me this month, we will focus on the detailed planning of said novel, scene by scene, chapter by chapter.

Well, I say "novel", but it would be more correct to say story. In order not to get stuck by a rigid structure that I'm bad with, I'm just going to put aside the volume by volume structure and simply plan according to my narrative arcs, since I already have some of the planning written during last Camp.

I am more than capable of catching up if I switch to this method. I already have a good backup of information, and putting everything in order and detailing what I want to achieve will help me move forward faster than the blind writing I was doing until now.

STYLE

It’s obvious that I need to develop my novelistic style.

My fanfic style has developed over 4 years but I will not and cannot wait 4 years for my novelistic style to mature. Having a clear plan will already help me avoid going off track when writing, but I need to figure out how I'm going to manage.

Am I more comfortable with a more compact or airier style ? Do I favor very long sentences or short sentences? What is the rhythm of my writing ? Do I have writing tics, words that come back too often, turns of phrase reused in all sorts of ways? How do I deal with dialogue ? Descriptions of decor ? The emotional and reflective side of internal monologue ? How do I integrate the information in a fluid way, the flashbacks, the questions ?

I think the easiest thing would be to practice writing short scenes, or even short stories. This probably won't be something I do during this NaNo, barring sudden bursts of inspiration for Erasde that override my obsessive hyperfocus on my fandoms, but I won't rule out the possibility.

Another possibility could be to restart written role-playing with @gabrielwritessometimes . I have OCs in his world and he has some in mine, so this might be something interesting to do together, depending on everyone's available time and energy.

BRAIN

I can't really change my brain, so we're going to have to learn to overcompensate for the ongoing mess.

I already know that I need to be in a certain mood to write and that if I'm not, there's no point in forcing it. The frustration of not being able to write my fics also plays a big part, so alternating between NaNo and my WIPs according to my mood, energy level and inspiration rather than forcing myself to follow NaNo seems to be a good solution.

Certain places (my bed, the library, cafes, parks) work better for inspiration and concentration. So setting aside a little money to go and spend a few hours in a café at least once a week with one or two drinks and a pastry could be a good idea.

And my brain being a 5 year old with a sugar addiction, it seems that returning to a reward system based on candy and other sweets could alleviate the fluttering in my brain. Watch out for Mom and don't forget dental hygiene I guess.

POST NANO AND CAMP

I'll probably be busy in December, covering shifts at the library, but I plan to continue writing. After NaNo, I'm going to set a daily writing goal : no word limit, but write at least once a day, on any project or WIP.

I plan to submit my thesis and take my oral exam at the beginning of next year, at the earliest for the February holidays and at the latest at the beginning of April. Once my thesis is out of the way, I should be much more relaxed in terms of writing, which will undoubtedly help.

I plan to attend next year's Camp NaNo, both April and July.

If I haven't finished planning by April, this is what I will continue. If I finished it, I will slowly start writing the novel and continue writing during July Camp.

In order to reduce my anxiety, I will work chapter by chapter. That is to say, write a chapter, send it to my friends who wish to give me feedback, whether as readers or official beta-readers. Allow some time to pass, during which I work on other projects or another chapter, before rewriting the revised chapter.

I write primarily for myself, with no publication goals at present.

I don't yet know what I will do with my story once it is sufficiently advanced, if I will try to translate it myself into English to share it, if I will publish it on a platform like ao3 or Wattpad or Webnovel, if I'm going to send it to publishers hoping to get published, if I'm just going to keep it for myself and my group of friends... We'll see.

[flydotnet]

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card! (Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled).

That guy seemed like he was about to burst a blood vessel. He was goin' too hard too much.

I started this fic what feels like a bazillion years ago - it was supposed to come out last year I believe, but between my half-year job that sipped my Life Points away like I was some Yu-Gi-Oh character, various other sources of brainrot and Whumptober, I ended up finishing this fic a lot later than I'd have liked.

Well, I knew I'd have to postpone posting it until I was done with a previous prompt on the card for Reasons only known to myself (and Tekiro), so it's not that surprising of me I'd suppose.

The backstory of this one was inspired by a fanfic series on Pixiv where, at some point, Nitta confronts Kumi's bullies; but like I'm edgy as fuck so I took it in an angstier direction. Woops.

I'm just really glad this fic is done, it's been a long time coming. Also I need food for my stupidly niche-ass rarepair that crosses into crackship territory if you don't think about it hard enough.

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Sunny-Side Up

Summary: Shun has felt off for a couple days, but in his haze, doesn't quite get why. Somehow, his crush manages to read through his own unease.

Fandom: Captain Tsubasa Relationships: Nitta/Kumi (pre-rel)

Word Count: 4.2K words

AO3 version available here.

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo.

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In a sudden flash of awareness, Shun realizes how much of a mess he’s made.

There’s a video playing on his smartphone of someone wrapping gauze on a dummy’s arm. His smartphone is itself propped on some makeshift installation on top of the empty bathtub, threatening to fall if he hits it at just the right angle. There’s an empty bottle of disinfectant on the floor, its smell all over the bathroom, bandages all over the place, a first-aid kit wide open and spilling.

All that mess, yet his wound still looks the worst out of everything here. Oh, this is going to be a pain in the ass…

Whatever. He can handle it on his own. He doesn’t need Urabe, Misaki and especially not Sugimoto’s nosy ass to slip their noses into his bullshit. Mom and Dad trust him to be on his own so he’ll manage it on his own. Tutorials are all he needs to get by with whatever he doesn’t know yet. He’ll cook himself omurice, he’ll down a pill or two, and it’ll be fine. He’s fine, no need for anyone else, and especially not a manager who puts her nose everywhere (even if she’s lowkey cute – when she’s not being a brat who meddles in people’s business).

Fuck it. It’s stopped bleeding and it doesn’t even smell that bad anymore (it doesn’t make him want to puke, at least), so that should be enough. He’s got other stuff to take care of, like what he’s going to train tomorrow and his math homework. Dammit, he should’ve taken a shower before patching that wound! Oh well, he’ll just quickly wash himself in the sink, like Dad often does when he runs late to his flights. You shouldn’t wash a wound, right? He remembers that from when he had stitches for another injury. It makes some amount of sense.

Just staring at the mess he’s made is kind of discouraging, though. It’s been a long day (even longer than that, actually), even without taking into account the deep cut on his thigh. He still doesn’t quite to make of it, confused by his own actions. Man, he’s really not in the mood to think of that over, why is he being like that? All he needs to do is get some sleep and it’ll all be good. Eat, sleep, repeat. It’s easy.

Eh…

On second thought, cooking omurice very much sounds like a chore as well. What if he just made rice in the cooker and sunny side up eggs? That sounds like a good compromise. Same ingredients, less wok involved, he can survive that. As long as he takes a pill, he’ll be fine. No need to ask for anyone’s help, he’s self-sufficient. He’s been for a long time.

He doesn’t need anyone’s help, and especially not that of a certain nosy manager he’s going to have to deal with tomorrow first thing in the morning.

It’s not that Sugimoto is a bad person. Yes, sure, she’s still a bit obsessed with Tsubasa, despite how long it’s been since she’s apparently confessed her love to him, only to be turned down because Nakazawa has always been his main squeeze; but she’s mostly gotten over it in years, although that’s probably helped by the fact Tsubasa has gone to Brazil and taken nobody else with him, not even his own girlfriend. She’s hardworking, she’s enthusiastic and she’s always ready to get her hands dirty if it means helping Nakazawa or Nishimoto with their tasks. She’s a good person, dammit, he can’t take that away from her, and the team wouldn’t be the same without her.

Hell, Shun would even say she’s kind of cute with her pigtails and her bright eyes and her infectious energy.

But the issue is that Sugimoto is enthusiastic and nosy. She’s so fucking nosy, all over the place asking people this and that, if she can help them, and that’s exactly what he doesn’t want. She’s well-intentioned and butting in people’s business isn’t exclusive to her in this team (looking at you, Ishizaki): the issue here is that not only can she not shut it once something has hit her radar, but she’ll also make sure that thing is taken care of personally – and by God, Shun can’t imagine making his teammates lose their manager’s time over some stupid cut on his thigh.

Also, how are you even supposed to explain how and why you’ve got a cut on your thigh? You just don’t get a thing like that by playing soccer, Shun’s clever enough to know that. Even the clumsiest of soccer players wouldn’t manage to get a cut this high and this clean on his leg, not even while drunk off his ass. It’s clearly no accident, he realizes, and he has no lie to come up with that’d sound credible enough to get past her, even when taking Sugimoto’s credulity into account. She’s seen too many soccer matches to know he’d have to do it on purpose and slip on a knife for this wound to happen.

Doesn’t help one bit that Shun’s a terrible liar. There’s no way he’s getting past the classic test of seeing if the person in front of you is sweating as they’re retelling a supposedly innocent story. Hell, he’s seen Misaki do it one too many times for that to fool him; and if Misaki can’t pull off a poker face good enough to fool the team, then there’s no way in hell Shun’s pulling that off. Moreover, Urabe tends to feel that sort of things like you’d feel someone’s unease: he’ll ask every annoying question possible with a loud enough voice to make a conviction weaver dead in its tracks.

He almost cracks two eggs open on the hot non-stick pan before remembering he needs to add oil so it won’t stick. He doesn’t have the energy to scrub burnt eggs off tonight (he never does, to be fair, it’s annoying even on a good day), so he loses the twenty seconds that take in exchange for more sleeping time tonight.

He kind of misses Mom, in situations like that. Every time she’s here, she cooks him her signature stir-fry, and they all eat it, with Dad and sometimes their friends. Whenever his parents are here, the house is always warmer, and it’s more comfortable, even if he’s nowadays used to the echo of his footsteps and to whistle a song when he’s cooking. Of course, he knows they’re rarely here for a good reason, and besides, it’s what makes the days they are home the best in the year. He can hope they’ll be in Japan for the high school national tournament this year, Mom told him that the other day, and it made his heart flutter.

The chime of the rice cooker sounds a little different tonight, like the echo has made it more sinister.

It’s somewhat weird, Shun finds. He’s been making rice on his own for long enough for that chime to be nothing if familiar, so he has no idea why tonight it resonates a bit differently now. He’s going to attribute it to fatigue, for now, and maybe later down the line he’ll have some sort of answer about it. At the moment, all he should worry about is improving on his soccer skills, take care of his homework and, of course, cooking his dinner. That’s the most important step of his evening as of now.

Urgh, he should’ve paid more attention, instead of zoning out for no reason like he just did, like a moron. The yellows have completely opened, rendering them as dry as the whites, there are burnt edges all over those of the pan and he doesn’t have eggs to spare. Shit end to a shit day, he supposes – so may as well gulp them down. He isn’t even that hungry anyway. He’ll just eat them, wash himself and go to bed. His uniform can wait until the morning, and so can thinking about Sugimoto butting her nose into his business, and the fact he wouldn’t even mind that much. At least, she’d look at him, and they’d be up close and personal, and…

No, no, he would mind, actually! Just like he’d mind Nakazawa or Nishimoto not minding their own businesses, but especially Sugimoto! Explaining this whole mess to her sounds exhausting. Bah, if push comes to shove, he’ll just find an excuse when he’ll be more refreshed than now. He’ll be a better liar next time, or he’ll just hide everything just enough for a basic pretence to work.

At least tomorrow will be better – and if not tomorrow, then the day after.

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Once again, and for what feels like a vague nth time lately, Shun wakes up in a haze. He eats a breakfast just as hazy, presumably composed of leftover rice from yesterday fried with oil and chocolate (it surprisingly doesn’t taste bad, at least not enough to make him nauseous again). He tries to button his uniform vest but ends up giving up because he’s already spent all his patience on his dress shirt. He walks to school unable to walk in a straight line or quickly – it’s either one or the other. Urgh.

It’s been colder and colder for the past three days, and no amount of hot beverage or soft-boiled egg has been able to fix it – and goddamn is Shun tired of hearing people asking him if he’s fine. Yes, he is, shut the fuck up. You’re a chore for asking something so useless.

Although Shun has to admit, in the privacy of his own mind, that their doubts aren’t unfounded.

The wound on his leg hasn’t healed very well yet: if someone was to see it, or even the bandages that keep turning red without his approbation, they’d question it, and he’d have no choice but to explain how in the hell he got a cut that high yet that low at the same time. It’d then provoke some sort of domino effect, he’d guess, where Sugimoto would get involved because she’s a manager or something (sounds like an excuse), and that he can’t let it happen.

Come to think of it, if he could just get Nishimoto or Nakazawa not to tell anyone else about it, he’d be fine, would he? But the managers are close friends, they tell each other everything, and Shun can’t even risk Sugimoto hearing about it. If she was to learn of it, then…

Speaking of the devil, she just had to be there as soon as he was done changing. And here he was, hoping he’d be alone for a moment or two, enough time to get his crap together and look his Sunday best when he’s feeling anything but… (No, Shun, you’re just good. You’re doing just fine. Don’t whine, if you can walk, you’ve got nothing to cry about – you’re no quitter).

“Oh, good morning senpai!” She says with her usual smile. “I didn’t expect anyone to be here this early!”

Yep, she’s adorable all right, bouncy and luminous and everything of the sort.

“Good morning to you too, Sugimoto.”

Too bad she’s the one person he didn’t want to see, especially when he’s not made sure his stupid cut isn’t going to reopen yet.

“You’re going to practice shoots, right? I can help you get the balls back!”

“Yeah, Imma do that; but, like, you don’t have to help with it. Just make sure the clubroom is good for everyone else to use if they come.”

If they come, yeah, because morning practice isn’t the gold standard it used to be for some. Shun may also be hoping fewer people than usual get to see him because he didn’t exactly look… fresh when he was brushing his teeth (at least, that’s what he got through his haze). He can’t imagine it’s gotten better either.

“I’ve already taken care of preparations for the day, senpai.”

Uh…

“Oh, that’s good then.”

He helplessly watch her face twinge just a little.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Nitta? You look really pale today…”

And here’s why he really didn’t want to come across her all day: Sugimoto has a hawk’s eyes when it comes to things like that. According to his teammates, she used to be oblivious – blinded by her love for their captain, you know how it is, Nankatsu’s very identity was overwhelmingly Tsubasa’s to a sickening degree – but ever since he left for Brazil, she’s become the sharpest gaze on staff. Some say she may as well have been reading into their future. It’s, of course, impossible, but hey, for once, Shun’s willing to let it slide. It gives her an additional layer of depth he can’t deny but be allured by.

Oh, right. He’s supposed to lie to her now.

“Yeah, I’m all good.”

He feels something cold on his leg. He doesn’t really know what it is, but what he knows is that he needs to get away and onto the field as soon as possible before she realizes something’s up. But how does he do that without seeming suspicious?

“You really don’t look like it… Are you sure you’re not sick? You know you can take a day off, right? I promise you, people won’t blame you!”

“Nah, I’m fine, no need to fuss.”

He waits for her response, but all he gets in exchange is her widened eyes and a cold sweat pearling down his back.

“Nitta,” she says in a choked voice that’s so unlike her.

“Yeah?”

“You’re bleeding…”

In a snap of the gaze, Shun looks down at his leg and realizes, in unspoken horror, that the damn wound has already betrayed him: there’s a trail of red coursing down his thigh and shin, tainting his white socks, mocking him with its vicious rusty hues. Yeah, that one’s going to be difficult to explain, let alone hide anymore. Dammit, had he still been wearing his uniform, the black pants would’ve hidden that.

Guess lying by omission his way out of this situation isn’t on the table anymore… Unless?

“It’s, uhm… It’s a cut on my thigh,” he admits, trying to keep as many details out of there as possible. How does one accidentally cut his thigh?

“Stay here, I’m getting the first-aid kit!”

Sugimoto runs out of the main room to get to their small-ass infirmary, which leaves him time to flee out of there. Unfortunately, now that he knows he’s bleeding, he’s realising the damn thing stings, and it’s preventing him from actually attempting an escape – and she’s back already. Goddammit.

“Sit down anywhere, please.”

The worried tone of her voice makes him do the polar opposite of what he should: obeying her like a good little puppy and sitting on the nearest chair possible.

“It’s really no big deal,” he tries to argue anyway. “Just gimme the bandages, I’ll patch it up myself.” She stares at him with somewhat empty eyes. “What? I can wrap a wound, y’know.”

“It’s a manager’s job to take care of the players of her club,” she says as she kneels down to his legs. “Pull back your shorts just a little, please.”

It’s uncomfortable at best to actually strike some sort of balance between showing enough skin for her not to scold him, yet not enough for her to see whatever the hell he’s wearing underneath his shorts (come to think of it, what did he even put on this morning?). Why is he concerned about it now when he couldn’t be bothered when Nakazawa was seeing him almost entirely naked? No real idea, but for now, it’s very much an issue to immediately take care of.

Oh, wow, that bandage looks really fucking red. It was white when he put it on this morning, sure, but now, it’s a nasty amount of red. The thing won’t stop expanding too, like ink on paper.

“Oh my God,” Sugimoto barely manages to articulate, hands in front of her mouth and eyes open wide. “I need to check this, hang on, please.”

“You really don’t have to—”

He has to muffle a scream when she starts unwrapping the bandage, everything having stuck to his skin through a layer of sweat first, then with matted blood all around the cut.

“How long have you been injured for?”

The word hits him like a freight train.

“Uh… A couple days, I guess?”

This wasn’t supposed to make her worry even more.

“This should’ve healed in two or three days,” she says, trembling. “Your wound’s infected.”

Ah, that makes sense. Vaguely so, but it does.

“Crap.”

Sugimoto backs away a little, stares some more at his leg, and her face doesn’t get much better.

“Why did you let it get that bad, Nitta? You should’ve sensed something was wrong much earlier than that!”

Her voice is loud enough to rattle against all of his brain at once.

“H-hey, no need to yell at me! That shit happens sometimes!”

“What do you mean, ‘this happens sometimes’?! That’s an infected wound! Have you not cleaned it at all?!”

“Of course I didn’t! You’re not supposed to wet a wound!”

Sugimoto stares at him with all the disbelief in the world.

“You’re supposed to disinfect a wound! What are you saying?!”

“Last time I checked, when I had stitches, my doc told me not to!”

“It’s because you had stitches, senpai! But that’s just not the same, your wound’s already clean when you get stitches! Did you…” She trails on. “Did you not know this?”

Shun freezes when he realizes what he’s been doing for the past couple days has been stupid.

“Uh… No. I didn’t think about it, I guess?”

That doesn’t quell any of her disbelief in front of what the hell he’s telling her about.

“Why didn’t you ask for help, then?” She asks in an almost emotionless voice.

He’s once again sent for a loop there, just because he’s not sure himself. Shun’s never been too keen on getting help, because dependence has never run in his blood: he hates having to rely on other people for things beyond his control, let alone not being able to decide how much of a hand they should give him. What if he can’t pay them back, huh? Then what? He hates debts. He hates losing his sense of freedom and independence and that’s just how it is. No amount of feelings he can have for anyone will change that.

Sports are unrelated to that. Soccer is a collective sport, so of course, he knows he has to cooperate and rely on other people. Relying on other people for passes is fine. Asking someone else about how to dress a wound is fucking embarrassing.

“I don’t like that,” he spits at her without an afterthought, as if it was the whole story.

“You… don’t like asking for help,” Sugimoto drags through her teeth.

“Yeah.”

His head’s a little hazy, in no little amount due to the constant blood loss, as light as it’s been. It can’t be too good, he supposes.

“I suppose I understand that,” Sugimoto tells him as she starts cleaning the damn thing.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.” He can’t quite see her much through the dizziness that’s slowly been creeping up and her odd positioning, hair falling in front of her face like a cascade. “Besides, you don’t look very capable of handling it yourself. You should’ve asked for help earlier.”

The urge to scream at her to shut the fuck up dries up before even his impulsive ass can do it. Instead, he deflates, a slow realization dawning on him: there’s no way he’s getting out of here without a very ugly truths or two coming out of his mouth, whether he wants it or not.

“I guess,” he snaps back, even if it sounds weak (as if he was so much tired than he’s supposed to be, as if he actually didn’t want to bite back when he should be spitting venom back at her).

“It’ll get very ugly, one day, if you don’t take good care of yourself.”

“What would you know about that?”

Her eyes squint. Shit, that wasn’t his wisest move – but what has been, lately? Clever people don’t get their wounds infected by sheer stupidity.

“I was there, at some point.”

The sentence is icy water down his back, uncomfortable and leaving a mark no matter what. He has no idea what she’s referring to, and his slow-moving nerves aren’t making the task any easier, and the more he tries thinking about it and the worst it gets – but like the shiver-inducing trail of an ice cube, he can’t ignore it, not entirely at least. Dammit.

You know, maybe Shun doesn’t know her as much as he’d like to say with certainty and all sorts of bravado, and that’s the saddest shit ever. He’s pretty much down bad for her, the way she handles everything as well as she can, the bounce of her pigtails, the spark in her eyes and all of the spunk he could ask for; and yet look at him, unable to tell if she’s actually gotten over Tsubasa and absolutely unknowing of her hardships. Too self-centred, as he’s always been.

“How did you end up with such a cut…?” Sugimoto whispers to herself, breaking the palpable silence. “It’s so deep, yet it’s in such a weird place…”

He didn’t want to hear that question, he really didn’t – especially from her.

“I dunno,” he tries lying. “Maybe I just slipped on something.”

The sting of disinfectant jolts through him, much more than it should’ve probably.

“Do you really think I’m this stupid, senpai?!” Sugimoto claps back with a snap, but her anger quickly fades away. “This is quite a deep gash, that doesn’t make sense for something to have happened to you on the field, or when slipping. It’s almost like you got cut there…” Her voice softens again, right as her fingers stop on top of his skin. “What actually happened? Is it something you can’t tell me…?”

“It’s, uh…”

Shun finds himself as a crossroad, now. Sugimoto’s asking for answers, but she also gives him a way out if he’s too much of a coward to come clean with all of this crap. It’s no grand burden, after all, and fatigue is a terrible thing that creeps into his bones and gnaws at everything there is to find, until it gets bored, and then you slip into the haze – oh, right, he was talking. Was supposed to, at least.

“It’s fine if you can’t, Nitta,” Sugimoto picks the train back up again.

Despite her words attempting to be reassuring, sounds clearly displeased; the hold on the bandage roll she’s wrapping around his thigh tight. It hurts a lot more than it should, right about now.

“I, uhm…” He gulps, suddenly sweaty, the lies dying in his throat.

Everything feels heavy on his chest, because he’s tired and sick and injured and in front of his crush, she’s hurting not to know what happened to him. How they got to this point, in a clubroom, in a sort of headlock where he really wants someone to know yet doesn’t want to open, and her who seems so sad he won’t let her in.

Maybe it’s fine to tell her.

Maybe it’s fine if she’s asking to know.

Maybe it’s fine if it’s the girl he loves.

“It’s a scissor cut,” he finally lets loose.

Sheer horror curses her face, her hands dropping the bandage roll.

“Someone did that to you with scissors…?” Her voice is as saddening to hear as her expression looks. “That’s awful…!”

She directly jumped to a culprit having done that, huh. Well, he did decide to be truthful with her… so there’s no way back. There’s no taking back. Plus, she kind of deserves to know.

“It was some girls in your class. They had that pair of scissors to cut shit in your locker, dunno what.” He chuckles, because it really was ridiculous, by the end of the day. “I confronted them and it actually did happen on accident. They weren’t reaching for my leg, y’know?”

Sugimoto puts away everything she used back into the first-aid kit.

“Why would you…”

He gets up, despite her worries and despite the pain in his leg that hasn’t gotten better at all. If anything, he’s just more aware of it now.

“I couldn’t let them hurt you anymore. Why didn’t you tell us?”

She doesn’t reply, at first. They’re so close, physically, he can almost hear her own heartbeats, or so it feels – or maybe it’s just blood reaching his head. He’s apparently running a fever and shit.

“Can I… tell you later?” She replies with all of the timidity in the world. “Please?”

“No problem.”

His focus slips for just a second and, as a result, he almost falls backwards a second later. She catches him in his fall, and that’s the one moment where his entire body has chosen to just stare in awe.

“I think we… should get you to the infirmary!” She nervously chuckles and he can’t help but smile.

“Sounds…” his stubborn bone snaps in half, “good to me, actually.”

He stands back up, limping on the side of his infected leg.

“Let me accompany you, then. You sound like you’ve been on your own for quite some time.”

“Yeah, that sounds right.”

“Let’s go, then.”

She leads the way, he follows holding her hand. It’s not just for balance.

[myulalie]

10, 25, 30, for fic writer ask game. ^^

Hey! Thank you so much for these excellent questions ♥

10. How do you decide what to write?

Well first of all if I have a deadline I’ll be trying to work on the WIP in question in priority x)

I have a list of all my works and a pretty good idea of what I’ve been up to / what I have left to do so I usually rely on said list to get a good overview of my options. I will pick up one of the most advanced projects (drafted, or outline) if I’m in the mood for those, or one of the oldest if possible, otherwise it’s the one I feel most inspired about that comes first.

Since I only write one fic at a time especially for longer works I need to pick carefully as it’s something I might be stuck with for a while. Unless I have a sudden burst of inspiration for a shorter fic (then I just get it out as fast as possible to go back to the longer fic) of course!

It’s really a balance between “what am I in the mood for” and “what needs to be written as soon as possible” ^^

25. What other websites or resources do you use most often when you write?

Every time I sit down to write I open the google doc for the draft plus the google doc and/or spreadsheet for the outline. I also have an online translator open since I’m bilingual and sometimes the words come in the wrong language, and an online unilingual dictionary when checking spelling/definitions or browsing the thesaurus.

If I made a moodboard on Pinterest it’s most likely open as well, and I will have music playing (sometimes a tailor made playlist for the fic). I will also have a search engine ready for anything else I might need, usually simple searches, nothing too in depth or complicated unless I get sidetracked.

I guess I use Tumblr A LOT prior to writing for inspiration or prompts and after to promote my writing, and of course AO3 to post x)

30. Have you ever written something that was out of your comfort zone? If so, what was it, and how did it affect your approach to writing fic thereafter? 

The first time I “had” to work with a beta, that was definitely new and frightening! I had this very common fear that the beta would tell me to scratch it all and restart from the beginning or just try to rewrite the fic in my stead but it’s definitely not what happened.

They were great, honestly. We felt like a team working towards the same goal: writing the fic I wanted to write, not just the fic as it came out. They had a lot of insight on both my writing, the plot, and the potential reception so not only did I learn useful tricks to edit my whole writing, I also grew as a writer and wrote a fic I had no regret whatsoever about. It was exactly what I wanted it to be.

It really changed my writing process, although I do realize such good chemistry with a beta-reader is very rare and I really lucked out and found a unicorn that time. This experience helped me build meaningful relationships with other fans and I am now collaborating with yet another unicorn on a WIP so! It’s possible!

So yeah now I’m a lot more confident when looking for a beta, I know what I want and how to ask for it, but I’m also a much better editor as well, especially for my own works. I can’t give the same kind of insight as a beta-reader coming at the work from an outside perspective but I’ve been able to set up editing strategies and started outright rewriting my fics (which I’d never have done before!).

I’m even more of an overachiever than ever but I’m happy for it haha.

Thanks again for the questions, find more here!

[beakeoghan]

frustrations

Pairing: Druig x eternal!reader

Summary: Your nerves are on edge and Druig knows how to help you out.

Word count: 1.1 K words

Warnings: Suggestive dialogue, drinking and partying.

Author’s note: I watched a couple of episodes from Teen Wolf and I got so nostalgic that this was inspired by this scene in particular on episode 16, Season 3B! It's short and sweet and if you want I can try to do part 2, just to finish things in a more satisfying manner! <3 Thank you for reading!

Song recommendation: For the whole “scene” I pictured either Borderline by Tove Styrke or She Don’t Dance by Everyone You Know ! But it’s really a personal preference!

Thank you, my love Lu, for supporting it <3

Your distant gaze kept switching between your empty cup and the boys dealing the drinks behind the counter. You couldn't distinguish so well, but around you were loads of drunk people with partially naked bodies painted with neon colors, dancing to an intensely vibrant song. Somehow you found yourself in this house party with people you didn't even know.

The DJ seemed determined to keep people's voices stuffy with the speakers on the loudest volume possible. The chatter was almost indecipherable. To some extent, you were glad you couldn't even hear your thoughts because they kept coming back to your ex-boyfriend, who you knew would be here. One, two, three shots weren't enough to make them stop - not that the drink had that much effect on you.

Actually, why were you here? Sersi was kind enough to tell you that she didn't mind if you decided not to come since she knew what had happened between you two. He was a close friend of Dane's, and you had met between the travel back and forth to London while you visited Sersi and Sprite.

The relationship lasted for a while, but there was nothing you could do with him being human and having no clue about who you were. You didn't want to think too much about it, because if you did, all the doubts would creep in. You would hesitate, once again, the decision of leaving him, even though it had been more than eight months since it happened.

The heavy thumps were invading your rib cage as if the music was coming from inside you. You turned around with a fully stocked beer cup to face the crowd of people having a good time. The sudden realization of him being right in the middle of the dance floor almost made you drop it.

You found your breath hitching at the sight of him, fingers intertwined with a girl the same height as you, smiling with the brightest sheen of happiness on their faces. You couldn't cry, and you wouldn't shed a tear for this.

Nothing was wrong, he was moving on as you told him to. Yet, you couldn't shake the feeling of betrail from your heart. That's the problem with you - you always feel everything with the highest intensity, even when it seems unreasonable.

It was just a moment. He met your gaze for the first time that night, and you felt your cheeks burning because you were staring at them for too long by now and you were afraid people would notice. The heat from your tipsy body dissipated and you felt at ease, just for a second.

Even now, after all this time, he looked at you, searching for your approval. Like he wanted you to be okay with this, whatever this is. You smiled sweetly as if you had sealed a deal between you. As long as he was happy, you would be happy for him. It didn't matter with whom. So many unspoken words swiftly didn't need to be said anymore. It would be okay.

Looking to escape that burst of people, you found a small bench just by the DJ spot. You had a perfect vision of everyone dancing, laughing, drinking, and getting high in the dark. You knew your frame was timid, arms crossed over your chest, the cup still hanging on your hand.

"You okay?" Druig's unaware voice almost whispered in your ear. "Your frown is keeping me on edge here. Did you kill someone?"

"No, just my mood." You said, taking the last sip like a shot. You chuckled a bit now, realizing how that would sound to him. "Just saw my ex with his new girlfriend."

" I see." He responded, getting closer to you, shoulders almost touching. "You must be mad."

You nodded, the colorful beam lights flashing on both of your faces. You observed people making out on the corners of the room, only the neon painting highlighting their features. You felt an ache rushing through the pit of your stomach.

"I'm not mad." You said, finally taking your time to look at him. A sigh escaped your mouth before you could stop it. "I'm frustrated."

His eyes shifted focus, once on your eyes, now on your lips.

"Sexually?"

Time stopped a bit before you could cling to his words - Druig was a master of making you feel flustered. Your heart was pounding at the thought of him with you. His scent seemed stronger now, your eyes capturing his ever so slightly boyish smile.

You smoothly inched closer to him, never losing sight of his gaze. You smiled playfully as he mimic your expression.

"I just realized we are both with no paint on our bodies." You sighed loudly, shaking your head. "That's no fun."

"It isn't." He reached for your right hand, longing for your touch. "Maybe we could do something about it."

You nodded, taking his hand and embracing his fingers onto yours as you guided him to the corner where they make the body paintings.

As you arrived there, you asked him to remove his black shirt and in return, you would too. He complied and licked his bottom lip before saying: "Just because I agree to this, doesn't mean that I approve that you were suffering for that human boy."

"Agree to what?"

"To being your little distraction, love.”

"Oh, I see." You picked up a brush with a red-looking color paint damped on it. "You are just here to distract me, then?"

"Among other things." He looked around while provoking you with a silly hand on your waist. "You know pretty well that I can fix your frustrations."

You laughed, gazing down on both of your bodies so close. You put on a mysterious grin before returning to look at him again.

Being in public, you thought, that was the farthest you could go. "You mean, sexually?" You approached his ear, whispering.

"In any way that you want." His mouth was so thirsty for yours. It was almost like the desire was dangling, jiggling from your touch to his.

Druig knew what he was doing.

You giggled, your blood pumping at the same rhythm as the beat of the song. "Do you wanna keep talking about my frustrations or are you gonna do something to release them?”

"Oh, beautiful." His fingers gently stroked your cheek, patting from there to your lips. “You're gonna have to ask me nicely or you won't get it at all."

[kindahoping4forever]

Feedback // Ashton Irwin

I've been sitting on this fic for a minute so thank you to everyone who's patiently waited for me to post it (shoutout to Sly)! This story was really just me getting inspired and clowning after Ashton's "Down To Earth" IG stream back in April. As always, thanks to @cal-puddies for the invaluable guidance as I tried to pare my writing style down into a pwp format (try being the operative word, 3500 words is still the best we could do lmao).

Warnings: Distracted Boyfriend!Ash, oral sex on a male, moderately rough unprotected sex (on the red leather couch) including mild dirty talk, brief choking and a spank or two.

Word Count: 3535

Masterlist // Ko-Fi and New 2021 Taglist linked above

Let  me  know  what  you  think!

"Baby! I didn't know you were home!"

You turn around to see Ashton in the doorway of the bedroom, voice as cheerful as the yellow beanie covering his head.

"Didn't hear you come in," he comments, walking over to you.

You slide your arms around your boyfriend’s neck with a sigh. "Rushed up here, phone was about two seconds from shutting off," you explain, greeting him with a tender kiss.

He watches as you kick off your shoes and yank your bra off under your shirt, tossing everything haphazardly in the direction of the closet before flinging yourself on the bed. "Tough day?"

You groan, dragging your hands over your face before extending your arms, encouraging him to join you. “Eh, not great and very long,” you report, giving a satisfied sigh when Ash climbs on the bed and immediately pulls you on top of him, wrapping his arms around you tightly. You do the same and the both of you lay quietly in this prone embrace for several peaceful moments before you break the silence. “How about you, how was your day?”

You feel him shrug under your body. “Can’t complain,” is his simple reply.

“Make anything cool?” You prompt, knowing he’s being low-key because he thinks you need to chill out, not realizing nothing relaxes you more than listening to him talk about his passions.

“Hmm… anything cool...” Ash giggles, hugging you closer. “I dunno, got a good start goin’ on this one track that could be pretty cool, got a nice vibe.”

You raise your head up to look at him and scratch your fingers across his beard, you’re so glad he decided to let it grow again. “Yeah? Tell me more.”

He hums as you continue to rub his face. “Only been at it for a couple hours, ‘s just a track for now, we’ll see what I can do with it,” he breezes, moving your hand from his face to his mouth so he can kiss it.

“Well, whenever you feel like you need a fresh pair of ears, I’d love to hear it,” you enthuse, moving to lay at his side.

He turns to give you a bright grin. “Yeah? A little in-house focus group?” He teases, leaning in for a sweet kiss that starts to get needy the longer it goes on.

You pull off his hat, running your fingers through his long hair as he moves to kiss along your neck. “Don’t know if you know this but I’m a big fan of your work,” you tease back.

He kisses your lips again, biting a bit as he pulls away to quip, “We talking ‘bout my music or something else?”

You giggle, deciding that indulging this frisky mood is exactly how you would like to unwind tonight. You inch closer, pulling him back into a kiss and he responds eagerly, hand coming up to massage at the base of your neck like it always does. For the next few minutes, the only thoughts in your mind revolve around Ashton, how he feels, how he tastes and where you need his mouth or hands on you next.

When you let out a moan at the way his fingers are gripping your skin under your shirt and he doesn’t press himself against you in response, you can tell he’s gotten distracted. You laugh knowingly against his lips, “You’re back to thinking about that song now, aren’t you?”

He looks at you with a sheepish smile. “I was actually still workin’ and came up here just to grab a hoodie when I found you.”

You playfully push him off of you, shaking your head. “Dude, you should’ve told me! You know I’m not one to fuck with The Process,” you admonish, scrunching your nose up at the trail of kisses he pecks over your face as he sits up.

“Nah, my brain needed a break and my girl needed me, it worked out perfectly,” he insists, rubbing your arm affectionately before getting off the bed.

He quickly fishes his desired sweatshirt out of the closet and pulls it on over his t-shirt, mussing his hair even more than you already had. He walks back over, ready to kiss you goodbye when you sit up on your knees to stop him. “I was serious about giving it a listen if ya want,” you say, smoothing his hair down before resting your hands on top of his inside his hoodie pocket. “If you’re not ready that’s fine but just FYI I‘m interested.”

Ash grins at you, squeezing your hands before using them to pull you to your feet. “Aww, you know you’re my fave audience, baby,” he gushes, reaching to grab his hat off the bed. “Let’s go give it a spin.”

“Well. As much as you can ‘spin’ a computer file,” you mutter, trying to annoy him just because it’s fun.

As you head for the door, you hear him snort behind you a split second before he grabs you, sliding his beanie on your head far enough to cover your eyes; you burst into giggles as he playfully bumps into you, passing you in the hallway. “Smart ass,” he grumbles, voice still smiling.

Ash makes it down to the basement first and starts clicking on files and flicking switches, excited to play his work for you. You stop at the foot of the stairs and survey the room with wonder. Multiple guitars - electric, acoustic, bass, 12-string - are strewn across the room, cables run from his computer to the adjacent room where he houses his drums, food delivery containers line the coffee table; he’s clearly been down here since you left this morning.

While he sets up, you make yourself useful, setting the guitars back in their racks, stacking the food trash; when you’re done, you start to drag a chair over to the computer when you notice he’s staring at you like you’ve grown an extra head.

“What are ya mad at me or somethin’?” He scoffs, patting his legs and looking at you expectantly.

You smirk and take a seat in his lap, watching closely as his long fingers fly over the keyboard, hand adeptly working the mouse, making a few final adjustments to the track. You hear a quiet “there we go” under his breath and then he’s settling in, pulling you back against him and rubbing over your thighs as you wait for the song to begin.

It’s a simple demo so far - layered background vocals, drum and bass, some synth, a little guitar line here and there - but he’s right, it’s definitely a vibe. You’re pleased that his reflection is visible in the computer screen, you love seeing him grooving behind you, pursing his lips and nodding his head along to the beat as you feel his fingers tapping along on your waist while he holds you close.

The track is short and before he can even ask your opinion, you tell him to play it again; his face lights up at your request and he proudly complies. When it finishes this time, you shift to look at him and smile. “That’s wild you did that all yourself and in such a short amount of time,” you marvel. “See, I was right, you did do something cool.”

Ashton laughs, kissing the side of your head as he leans forward to reach the keyboard. “You think so? Well, what’s really cool is this…” He starts clicking around again, isolating the different elements and revealing which sounds are electronic and which are live instruments, which section he thinks he’ll write lyrics over tomorrow, where he’s thinking of pasting in more guitar.

You respond when appropriate but mostly you just listen intently, watching fondly as he animatedly details his thought process; this is why you offered to come down here with him, this is the best part about being his “fave audience.” You love his music but more than that, you love how much he loves his music.

He stops mid-explanation of a section to tinker with it, clearly having a brainstorm right in front of you. You curl into his chest, observing quietly as he cycles through effects and begins stacking tracks. He chews his lip, deep in thought as he lets the song play again and you can't help but press a few kisses to his jaw.

Ash continues his work and you continue yours, moving from his jaw to his neck; your kisses eventually become more heated, with you adding tongue and even teeth to the equation. You suck his earlobe into your mouth, wiggling his earring with the tip of your tongue and finally he pulls away, chuckling, "Baby, come on."

You shrug, playing with his hair. "I just love watching you work."

He laughs, "Then goddamn, baby, let me work!" He growls as you nip at his throat and you smile to yourself because you can tell he's already rethinking his request.

"Seems like you shoulda thought about this before you invited a girl down to your basement to listen to some dreamy space pop alien makeout jam," you tease, relishing the feeling of his laughter vibrating his throat under your tongue.

"Can I get you to leave that review when this goes up on iTunes?" He cracks, finally turning his attention to you.

"I might be persuaded," you flirt, humming with victory as he pulls you into a hungry kiss.

Ashton wastes no time returning the affection you showed him, lips devouring yours, hands quickly making their way under your shirt to lazily massage your tits. You’re mid-moan, his fingers just about to make it inside your waistband when suddenly he’s pulling away.

It takes you a beat to realize what’s happened, your body confused by the sudden absence of his touch. You open your eyes to see him busy at the computer again and it’s so absurd to you, you have to laugh.

“Two minutes,” he says half-apologetically, half-distracted, squeezing your thigh but not taking his eyes off the screen.

You smirk to yourself, immediately aware of what your next move is. “Take as long as you need, baby. When genius strikes, you gotta go for it,” you state ominously, not that he notices. Nor does he notice you sliding yourself off his lap and onto the floor between his legs.

You run your hands up and down his thick thighs before letting your touch wander to the front of his jeans, palming over his crotch, happy to find that at least part of him was interested in your makeout session. You can’t decide if you’re more amused or annoyed by his focus but it’s not until your hand is on his cock, freeing him from his pants that he tears himself away from his project.

“Excuse me, ma’am, can I help you with something?”

You lock eyes with him as you stick your tongue out and dramatically lick your hand, coating your palm with saliva before giving his cock a tight squeeze and beginning to stroke him steadily. “I also had a genius idea I was just following through on,” you shrug. “Might take a little longer than two minutes, though, I’m a bit out of practice… my boyfriend’s been pretty busy.”

Ash giggles wildly, both at your joke and your audacity. “You’re crazy, I’m literally about to be done with… fuck…” His retort is interrupted by you, eyes still trained on his, licking long stripes up the sides of his cock, sucking gently at the head before licking your way back down.

“Go ahead and finish your work, baby, I’ll just keep busy until you’re done,” you insist, mischief in your eyes as you look up one last time before taking him into your mouth.

You hear a sharp inhale, a softly chuckled “fuckin’ ridiculous” and then finally, mouse clicks as he attempts to get back to it. You do your best to distract him, bobbing up and down enthusiastically, sucking loudly, humming around him, making sure he knows how much you’re enjoying your task.

It only takes a minute or so for him to get sidetracked by your efforts. “This is a shitty home demo I’ve spent all of 90 minutes on, there’s no way it’s so good you just had to have my cock right here and now,” he insists, struggling to keep his voice steady, not wanting you to hear how affected he is.

You pop off, gingerly playing with his balls as you zing back, “I dunno babe, you guys had plenty of shitty songs on your first album and from what I’ve heard, you did more than alright in the pussy department.”

Ashton’s laughter quickly turns to a strained moan as you slide back down on him, letting him hit the back of your throat. “My bad, didn’t realize I’d shacked up with a groupie,” he jokes. You silently congratulate yourself as you notice him flexing his hand into a fist, knowing he’s trying to keep himself from pressing down on your head.

You pull off him again, making sure to let the spit cascade from your mouth as you smugly reply, “Like I said before: big fan.” Before he can even think about responding, your mouth is back on him.

You’re not surprised he attempts to resume working again; you’re both stubborn, it’s a wonder anything ever gets resolved in your relationship. You can tell he’s trying his best to stay on task but the whispered curses under his breath give him away. As a last resort, he turns the volume on his speaker up a few more notches, hoping the track will drown out the exaggerated choking sounds you’re intent on making.

A few moments later, he reaches down and yanks his beanie off your head. “Fuckin’ bright yellow bouncing over my crotch is hard to ignore,” he grumbles. “All I see is my hat, looks like I’m suckin’ my own dick for all I know.”

You can’t resist continuing to rib him. “How is that not your greatest fantasy? Your favorite person giving you your favorite pleasure?”

He snorts, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, did you want to blow me or roast me?”

You give him your brightest smile and reply, “Unlike you, I’m pretty good at multi-tasking.”

A brief cackle and a clipped “alright” are all you hear before you’re being hoisted up off the ground, thrown over Ash’s shoulder and carried over to the couch across the room. You squeal with surprise and delight as he unceremoniously dumps you on it, briskly strips you both of your clothes and promptly bends you over the red leather.

He nudges your knees further apart, pressing you against the back of the couch. “Of course you’re this fuckin’ wet already,” he teases, breath hot on your neck as he runs himself through your folds. “You think that’s from my cock down your throat or from you winding me up so much?”

Whatever clever comeback you’d thought up dies on the tip of your tongue because suddenly he’s sliding his cock inside you and now that’s all you can care about. You whine as he quickly establishes a vigorous pace, one hand bracing himself against the couch, the other reaching around you, down your torso to reach your clit. “How’s this for multi-tasking?”

A few breathless cries of his name are the best you can manage as he relentlessly plays with you, somehow in perfect rhythm with his rough thrusts, sending your whole body into sensory overload.

“Or how ‘bout this?” He growls, moving his hand from between your legs to your throat, fingers offering just the slightest amount of pressure, knowing it’ll drive you crazy wondering if and when he’ll add more. “Don’t got any more funny jokes for me, baby?”

You moan at his taunting, placing a hand on top of his on your neck, trying to get him to squeeze harder; he refuses and his denial makes you moan even louder. "Jesus, Ash," you pant, pushing back against him to egg him on. “Feels so fucking good.”

You're so caught up that you don't even notice his song is still playing over the speakers until a few moments later when Ashton suddenly pulls out of you, muttering to himself as he grabs the remote from the coffee table and shuts the music off.

Confused, you look back and see him amusedly shaking his head. "Yes, I was still producing that in my head, don’t start," he giggles.

You fall back on the couch, laughing in disbelief. “We’ve gotta get you some hobbies, buddy, that’s insane.”

He snickers, laying you on your back and settling on the couch behind you, pulling your leg over his hip. “I don’t think fucking you counts as a hobby,” he jokes, gripping his cock and slipping it back inside you.

“Not with that attitude,” you quip, a little more breathlessly than you meant to but with how slowly Ash is rocking into you, you can’t help it.

You tilt towards him, angling yourself to pull his mouth down to yours; you’re feeling overwhelmed and you need him close. His tongue traces over your lips, his kiss the familiar reassurance you need in this moment. “Ash…” You whimper quietly, closing your eyes and savoring the feel of his beard grazing your skin.

“I know, baby, me too,” he soothes, cradling you tighter against him. His hips begin to pick up speed and his hand moves to knead your breasts and tug at your nipples before travelling further down.

Ashton rubs slow, tight circles on your clit, stopping to give your thigh a light smack when you start raising your hips a little too eagerly, bucking up in an attempt to get him to move at a speed more to your liking. You moan first at the realization that he’s going to keep teasing you like this and then again, louder, at the sharp slap of his palm that once again comes down on your skin.

“You’ve got a nice tone tonight, baby, I should get you to lay down some vocals for this track,” he jokes, choking back a moan of his own when your surprised laughter causes you to clench around his length.

You chuckle smugly at him, “Not so funny all of a sudden, huh?”

You feel yourself getting closer so you start rolling your hips along with his, murmuring at the feeling of him deep inside you; you grind against his hand playing between your legs and as he finally amps up the pace, your release becomes closer and closer to reality. Your breathing syncs with his in a needy, staccato rhythm that wouldn’t have sounded out of place in his song.

“Is this what you wanted?” He huffs out. Typically when he asks you that while he’s buried in you, there’s a tone of arrogance or punishment behind it but right now as he holds you, your sounds continuing to meld together, it couldn’t feel farther from that.

“Yes, Ash, god yes…” you breathe, reaching to hold onto him as your orgasm overtakes you.

Ashton keeps driving his cock inside you, whining slightly at the feeling of you pulsing around him. You cry out, not realizing how loud or long your moans are until you hear his voice in your ear, gently lulling you back down.

He’s still moving inside you, hips beginning to stutter and when you hear his breath catch, you know he’s there. You tuck yourself into him, cooing, “Come on, Ash... fill me up, babe.” Three strokes later and he’s pumping his cum inside you, gasping your name. He slows his movements, heavy breath underscored by a contented hum as you caress his bearded cheek.

He leans in and kisses you passionately, completely enveloping you, possibly your favorite feeling in the world. He exhales loudly and keeps holding you, kissing over your face tenderly.

You giggle as he indulges for a moment before reluctantly pulling away, reaching for the takeout napkins on the coffee table; he attentively cleans you up and quickly settles back onto the couch, pulling you on top of him.

You lay together, blissed out, while you play with the necklace hanging down on his chest and he strokes over your hair.

“Hey, sorry I gave you such a hard time,” you smile. “Didn’t realize how much I wanted your attention until I didn’t have it anymore.”

He looks at you, amused. “Honestly didn’t notice you acting any differently.”

You jab his side. “Also sorry I talked shit about your first album, I do actually like it quite a bit.”

Ash cackles, tracing designs on your back. “Oh good, I was worried that was going to be what finally drives us apart,” he cracks.

You snicker, nuzzling your head into his chest. You enjoy a few quiet moments together before he begins softly humming an unfamiliar melody and you smile, knowing his creative wheels are turning again.

You lift your head up again to offer one last apology. “I’m sorry I once again disrupted The Process.”

Ashton laughs mischievously, running his hands down your body. “I mean… overall I’d say this was some pretty valuable feedback.”

————-

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[shoutogepi]

Worth the Wait

Todoroki Shouto

word count : 9.2k

[ ☁︎, ☀︎, ✘ (nsfw 18+) ] (v lowkey angst//fluff)

themes : virgin!Shouto, experienced!reader (well, more than Sho anyway lol), praise kink?, lil baby couples quarrel, make up sex, and also he’s kinda hung lmfao idk if that’s relevant 💀

bio : You can’t help but notice that every time things start to heat up with your Pro-Hero boyfriend, he shuts you down. After politely ignoring his initial rejections, your frustrations build up, and you decide to confront him.

author’s note : so this fic was inspired by a conversation with the lovely astrid ( @todoscript​ ), who is becoming my cherished shouto confidante! we didn’t talk about it for very long, and it was awhile ago... but my brain would not move on so… this happened. i figured if i’m going to type so much about him i may as well write a fic. thanks for listening to my constant yelling, hope you enjoiii <3

side note : both shouto and reader are meant to be young adults in this fic!! i was thinking somewhere around 25-30 (i didn’t specify the age in the fic) but i thought i would make note of this as that’s considered “old” to still have your v-card, by American society at least (hence why sho kept that info from reader)

  ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🅃he first time it happened, you tried to play it off as if you hadn’t made a move.

The last few of your friends had finally departed from the Saturday game night you had thrown, leaving just you, Shouto, and the slow, hot tango of your tongues. You hadn’t seen each other all week— with him being busy with his hero work, and you being busy with your comparatively-mundane job, you didn’t get to spend as much time together as you would have liked. Although it was an obstacle for your relationship, you were both young adults as well as devoted professionals, which allowed the two of you to remain on the same page most of the time. It was typical for you to text and call one another for a few hours after work (granted you both had the time to spare) before passing out mid-conversation, your phone screen still lit up and gentle snores exchanged through the speakers. But like any sane girlfriend, having him in person, right in front of you, was always your favorite.

What had started as a peck had quickly evolved into a full on make-out session— Shouto had pulled you halfway onto his lap when you tried to move back from your initially-stealthy kiss, an appreciative hum rumbling through him as his large hands cupped around your face. You didn’t fight him as he brought your lips back to his, and you failed to stop him when those very same hands began to glide down your back, parking just above your ass. His fingers had gradually started to fiddle with the tops of your jeans, thumb running over the denim and dipping down to graze against your skin through your thin blouse.

Yet when your hands slipped underneath the bottom of his shirt, he pulled back from you, heterochromatic eyes guarded as he removed your hands. You had immediately picked up on his reluctance, and threw yourself off of him onto the other side of the couch, embarrassment scorching the back of your neck. Shouto left not long after that, for you had made up some lousy excuse that you were tired and would like to go to sleep, when sleep was really the opposite of your innermost desires.

This would have been all fine and good— because consent was consent after all, and you had no intentions of pushing him to do something he was uncomfortable with— had the same thing not happened just two weeks later. There you were thinking it would be a cute, coupley evening of watching movies and tossing popcorn at each other, resting your head against his shoulder and being content with just that— when then all of the sudden he was pinning you onto the sheets and kissing you til you couldn’t breathe. His hands, once again, wandered all over your clothed torso, palms mapping out each dip and curve as his tongue entertained yours in your mouth.

You were hesitant to kiss him at first, recalling how you had horrifically killed the mood last time, but as his advances became more passionate, you slowly allowed your defenses to slip back, excitement building inside of you. It was only when your legs tightened around his waist, your core brushing up along his thigh and causing you to let out the softest moan did he pull back. That same calm, cool expression was on his face, though his eyes were a bit wider than usual. There was also the tiniest hint of pink dusting his pale cheeks, his lips parted as he gathered himself. It was rather awkward after that— neither of you really knew what to say— so you crawled back to your spot and sat in silence for the rest of the movie, your hands eventually wandering out to hold onto each other. After sharing a soft kiss and exchanging “goodnight”s, you returned to your place, ready for an extra long appointment with your vibrator.

Unfortunately for you, this became a common occurrence. It wasn’t that you hated the steamy make-out sessions with your as-hot-as-they-come boyfriend, no— you thoroughly enjoyed them. The part that you absolutely loathed was returning to your place with your panties soaked all the way through, your sexual frustration meter only climbing higher and higher.

You loved your boyfriend! And of course you respected his wishes. You would wait for however long he wanted, because you wanted your first time together to be special. But fuck, did he have to heat you up just to leave you hanging every time? If he wanted to wait, then fine! But, God, what had you done to deserve this torture? You couldn’t get past first base— you’d never even rubbed your body erotically against his except for that time on his bed, and that was by accident!

And that was what you told the ladies during your Thursday night all-girl conference call, finally needing to vent and get this selfish feeling off your chest. It had been a long time coming, quietly brewing over the many instances of him stunting your advances that you came to a realization.

Enough was enough! You were going to ask him why he wouldn’t go any further with you, and whatever his answer may be, at least you would know what he was thinking! You felt like a weight had been lifted off of you, the girls cheering you on and wishing you luck as you said goodbye, ready to confront him.

— - — - — - — - —

Now that you’re standing here in front of his door, it seems like a foolish plan you’ve made. Your heart is beating out of your chest, thumping frantically against your ribcage as your fist is frozen in the air, knuckle about to connect with the door. Your stomach feels tight and low, throat dry with apprehension as your brain runs through every possible outcome. What would he say once you ask him your question?

Perhaps your breath stinks and it turns him off? Or maybe he doesn’t like the perfume you wear— or is it the way you dress that he doesn’t like? What if the reason he always stops you… is because he’s not sexually attracted to you?

Now that you think about it, you’ve never seen him pop a boner during your tongue wrestling matches, and the realization nearly causes your soul to leave your body. Even though the thought horrifies you, you try your best to reassure yourself that’s not the case. You had caught Shouto checking you out on multiple occasions, his eyes igniting a delicious heat on your skin. Whatever the case, you’re in this too deep to chicken out now. So with that, you let your knuckles rap on the door, steeling your nerves.

There’s a moment of quiet shuffling before your boyfriend opens the door, a pleasantly surprised smile on his face. His hair is wet and freshly washed, shining droplets collecting at the ends and making him appear even more handsome than usual. The gray tee thrown over his broad shoulders has damp spots from the runoff, and you take a second to admire the way his chest looks in the clingy material. “Hey, love,” he says, his voice alone causing goosebumps to rise along your forearms.

You allow him to guide you into his apartment, the door clicking shut behind him quietly. “Hi Sho,” you greet back, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and leaning up to kiss him.

Shouto chuckles against your eager lips, long arms gathering you into his chest. When he pulls away, he tucks your head underneath his chin, placing another kiss on your crown. “I missed you.”

Your heart throbs, happiness surging through you and butterflies bursting into your stomach. “I missed you more,” you reply playfully, burying your face between his broad pecs and inhaling his warm, wintery scent. The smell of fresh detergent lingers on the fabric, mixing with his clean aroma and making your tummy flip in circles.

“Impossible,” Shouto quips back, holding your waist tight as he dips you backwards just enough for your feet to leave the ground before he presses his lips to yours again, rendering you breathless. He pulls you back upright after a moment, a cheeky smirk on his face as you try to remember what you were talking about before. “Come in, sit down. I was just finishing up some work, I’ll get you something to drink.”

Following his instruction, you move further into his apartment, gravitating toward the couch and inspecting the files laid out on the coffee table before you. The words blur together for you, the foreign hero work forms long and in what might as well be another language. You lean back onto the cushions as Shouto returns, a glass of water in his hand. Frost forms on the glass as he hands it to you, taking a seat beside you with his knee brushing against yours. You smile at his consideration, taking a small sip even though you’re not really thirsty.

“Was there something you came over here for specifically, love? Forgive me if I’ve forgotten, but I don’t believe we had plans?” He’s looking directly at you, eyes locked with yours as his hand comes to land on the top of your knee. Even just an innocent movement like that has you on alert, your breath catching in your throat as he gives a gentle squeeze.

“Uh… no reason,” you answer lamely, crumbling under the pressure of his watchful eyes. “Just wanted to see you.”

Shouto’s gaze lingers on you carefully, and for a second you feel like you’ve been caught in a trap. But he lets it go, his lips forming a soft smile as he lays his arm around your shoulders. “Well, I’m glad to see you too,” he replies honestly. His fingers caress your arm as his hand falls down to your waist, and he leans in to press another kiss to your cheek. You lean into his affection, mouth curving in content. “So, what would you like to do?” Shouto asks as he shuffles the files away into their manilla envelopes, creating a neat pile in the far corner of the table. He leans back into the cushions, fingers fondly stroking at your side. “We could go out to eat? We could try this new bar afterwards, too, it’s across from my agency. If you’re alright to go out.”

You can’t focus on his words, really— you’re too lost in your own thoughts. Why does he have to touch you like this every time, when if you act on it, he’ll only push you away? You’ve been together for a long while now, and still, he doesn’t take initiative to further your relationship. Every bone you’ve thrown his way has been perfectly deflected, with no sign of weariness from him. If he doesn’t want you, is it because he’s not into you anymore?

An ugly thought rears its head in the midst of your anxiety’s dark clouds.

Maybe he never was.

Taking your silence as an answer, Shouto continues on, looking towards the kitchen over his shoulder. “Or we could buy groceries and make dinner. I think I have bok choy in the fridge, but we’ll have to buy some meat. And noodles, if you want those instead of rice. I’m sure I have that sesame sauce you like, I—” He pauses as you grab his hand, your fingers looping tight around his warm palm, sliding them to rest on your thigh.

With the summer just fading into fall, you were wearing something to showcase the smooth expanse of your thighs, and as you guide his hand to touch your soft skin, a delicate blush blooms across Shouto’s cheeks. The flustered expression on his face only goads you on, and you lean in to capture his lips.

A muffled noise escapes him, your hand coming up to touch his jaw and rub your thumb against his chin. It only takes him a moment to recalibrate before his free hand rises and copies your actions, gliding down the back of your neck before pulling your face closer to his.

You run your tongue against the seam of his mouth, and he swiftly grants you access as his lips move to follow yours. He tastes like mint and sweet herbs, the tea he was entertaining before you came lingering on his tongue. His hand slips out of yours to curl around your waist, grabbing onto your hip and squeezing. As your kisses start getting heavier and slower, your once-occupied hand moves to land on his chest, your thumb pushing into the tender muscle located there. His flesh jumps beneath your touch, but he allows you to continue groping at him through his shirt, his own hands beginning to knead at you. Before you know it, your knee swings over his thighs and you’re hovering on top of his lap, not sitting down on him just yet as you realize the position you’ve put yourself in.

You can notice the change— you’ve faced this exact scenario many times before. Shouto’s hands freeze up, locking into their current position, and he only returns your passionate kisses, not allowing his body much more movement than that. You try to just keep kissing him, but all the doubts and fears quickly pile up inside of you, and you pull away from him. You can’t even look at him. You’re too scared to speak, and too reluctant to get off of him, only leaning back to create a divide between his face and yours. Trying to hide your face before he can see your defeated expression, you dive into his chest, arms folding tight around his neck.

Shouto’s still frozen in place, but he seems to sense your distress. His arms slowly circle around your waist, fingers moving to trace up and down your spine. He softly exhales against your hair, letting out the breath he was holding in ever since you swung onto his lap. “Y/N? Are you alright?” he asks quietly after a brief pause, his voice soft and low, soothing to your wary ears. “You haven’t been acting like yourself today…”

After a long pause, you sigh, trying your best not to get emotional. “It’s just…” I’m so fucking attracted to you but you won’t let me touch you, you want to say, but you’re too terrified to say it aloud. What can you even say to him that would be better than that?

Shouto’s arms around you squeeze gently, indicating his patience in awaiting your answer. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, his lips grazing over your ear and placing a discreet kiss there. “Whatever it is, we can face it together.”

You let out a soft sniffle and Shouto pulls you tighter into his chest, his heart cracking at your sound of sadness. But his words bring a surprising amount of comfort to you, and you clear your throat before you lean back again, looking into his two-toned irises. His gaze is sympathetic, his eyes holding a visible amount of affection and support. “Well, I…”

He nods slightly, leaning forward to show his encouragement. “Go ahead, love…”

“Are… Are you attracted to me?”

It comes out more high-pitched than you would’ve liked, but at least it’s out— and he definitely heard you, judging from the wide-eyed shock painted across his face.

“Am I— What?” He stutters, his head tilting automatically in confusion. “I— of course I’m attracted to you, I’m… you’re my girlfriend.” Shouto looks at you incredulously, his arms falling to his side so that only his hands remain on your hips. “You’re the most attractive person I know, love. You’re gorgeous, inside and out,” he elaborates. “The whole package.”

His compliments butter you up, a small smile forming on your lips as you shyly look to your hands folded in your lap. “Not the whole package…” you mumble, squirming slightly as his hands come to hold either side of your face.

“Yes, the whole package,” he insists, nuzzling your nose against his. “Beautiful,” he declares as he kisses your cheek.

“Kind.” A smooch to the other cheek.

Your heart beats excitedly in your chest, thumping loudly against your ribs with each compliment.

“Courageous.” A kiss to the chin.

“Witty.” A peck to the forehead.

“Sexy?” you blurt it out just as he swoops in to press his lips to yours.

Shouto falters, pulling back just a hair as he looks at you in shock. “S-Sexy?” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as a question, but by the way his cheeks and ears are tinged a bright pink, it’s clear your suggestion was a bit too much for him.

The way he stutters out the adjective in confusion has your heart tearing in two. “Y-You don’t…?”

You’re staring directly at him, his wide eyes locked with yours and his body frozen to the couch. His lips are slightly parted, but no words come out of him.

Silence.

This is not how you want this conversation to go— you aren’t prepared for it to go like this. The tears you had successfully fought off before come back with vengeance.

Only once Shouto sees you hang your head in embarrassment, your eyes getting glassier by the second, he springs into action. “Hey, no, that’s not…” he starts to speak, sounding more worried by the second. His hand goes to cup your face, the warmth of his quirk evident in his touch as his finger dries over a fresh track of tears on your cheek. “I… of course I think you’re sexy, love. I’m sorry, you just caught me by surprise… You don’t think I know how sexy you are?”

You can only reply with a lame shrug, unwilling to let his eyes meet yours as you hide your face behind your curtain of hair. You try to slide off his lap, ready to retreat to the bathroom and wipe away your pathetic tears, but Shouto doesn’t let you move away from him, his arms locking tight around your waist and forcing you to lean against his chest.

“Talk to me, baby,” he pleads, nuzzling into the side of your face. His voice is more gentle than you’ve ever heard before, and you hate to admit your stomach is doing cartwheels at how sweet he’s being. “I love you no matter what, and I hate to see you so upset. I’m not good at figuring these things out on my own, just tell me what’s wrong, love. Please?”

He gives you a few moments to gather yourself, his fingers massaging your stiff muscles as you cling onto him. Once you’re confident enough to speak, your words come out barely loud enough for him to hear. “It’s just that… whenever I think we’re about to take it to the next level, you pull away. I want to respect your boundaries, Sho, but I can’t help but feel like it’s because you don’t… want me.” The hands on your body still at that, your boyfriend taking in a sharp breath as you pause, then decide to continue. “I’m just… so attracted to you, Shouto… I want to be mindful of your limits, but I can’t help but want to touch you all the time. I’m— I’m sorry if that sounds indecent.”

Shouto murmurs your name lowly against your ear, his large palm once again rubbing over your spine in an effort to comfort you as he tries to piece together the correct words. “This is…  a terrible miscommunication, and it’s all my fault...” he sighs, his voice dropping lower and becoming quieter, his insecurities leaking into his voice. “I’m so sorry to have made you feel like this… I promise that’s not the case.”

His words are enough to numb your worries, and you lean back so you’re able to look him in the eye as you wait for him to continue. He takes a deep breath before he sighs again, knowing he has to tell you the truth now, but worrying that he’s about to ruin everything the two of you have built over these past months.

“The reason that I push you away every time is… well, I—” he gulps nervously, and it’s your turn to look at him with encouragement. You take one of his hands in yours, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles as he tries to find the best way to explain his reasoning. “It’s not because you’re unattractive, it’s— I mean, if anything, you’re too… too attractive, and I get…” he trails off, his cheeks now a bright shade of pink that you’ve never really seen before. It’s the first time you’ve seen the usually collected man so flustered, and a part of you feels guilty for causing him such discomfort. Just as you’re about to cut in and tell him he doesn’t have to continue, he does. “I… I’ve never been with anyone… like that before.”

You blink at him in confusion.

Shouto just seems to get even pinker, and he quickly starts explaining himself as he takes in your dazed expression. “I know you probably thought I had all this experience because I’ve been a top Hero for some time now, but I just— I never met anyone before that cared about me like this and I just never wanted to do— well, to do that with a stranger.”

“You’re… a virgin?”

Shouto’s red at this point, his hot side nearly catching fire as he buries his face behind his hand, too embarrassed to face you at this point. “Yes, I’m sorry to disappoint you, love. I just… I’ve never felt like this about anyone before and I— I wanted to impress you so badly, Y/N. I… I should’ve told you this from the start, I’m so sorry to have caused you such doubt.”

His voice is just above a whisper now, his fingers clutching onto the fabric of your shirt as if he’s afraid you’ll get off his lap and walk straight out the front door at his confession. “Shouto…” You can’t stop the smile that begins to curl the corners of your mouth. This is the reason he wouldn’t go any further with you? Not because he didn’t find you attractive? Your heart feels heavy thumping against your ribcage, giddiness flooding your bloodstream.

Your boyfriend gapes at your smile, brows furrowed in confusion. “Wait, you’re not… disappointed?” At the instant shake of your head, his discomfort eases significantly. “R-Really? But everyone thinks I’m, well… kind of a womanizer I guess, I thought you’d at least expect—”

You click your tongue at him, shaking your head as you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “When have I ever given a shit about others’ expectations of you, Shouto? I love you for you, Sho… you make me so happy just as you are.”

Shouto melts at your words, a sigh of relief escaping his lungs as he crushes you to his chest. Your sweet scent fills his nose as he kisses the top of your head, and you bask in his touch as you hug him back. “You’re right, love, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner… I hate that you felt unwanted because of me. I promise, you’re the only one I’ve ever felt this way about, I— I’m so attracted to you as well. I love you so much.”

Your lips meet his in a passionate kiss, all the hurt and doubts that built over the last few months dissolving into the shadows. Only the light, warm feeling of your love is left behind, glowing brighter than ever before.

Shouto’s fingers crawl up the back of your neck, bringing your face closer to his as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping across your lips before you allow him entrance. Your fingers push into his silky hair, nails gently scratching at his scalp and he groans at the action, letting your tongue take control and invade his mouth instead. Your breaths starting to become ragged, you both pull away for a moment to breathe. As you look into each others’ eyes, you both begin to laugh softly, the pair of you equally content with how your heart-to-heart had gone.

“So, you do think I’m sexy, then?” You smirk, pleased with this new knowledge.

Shouto chuckles, nudging your face to the side so he can place a trail of kisses down the column of your throat. “Is that all you got from that?” He teases, nipping at your skin playfully.

You close your eyes, enjoying how his love bites feel on your quickly-heating flesh. “One of a few things…” Your breathing becomes deeper as his lips begin to gently suck on the faded marks he’d just made. “Mmm, Sho~”

He hums as your arms wrap tight around his shoulders, tongue caressing the skin he’s sucked into his mouth. Your thighs twitch on either side of his lap when he pulls away, cold breath cooling the wet, darkened patch of skin on your throat. He swears under his breath as his hands trail down your waist to your hips, thumbs resting on the top of your bottoms.

“Would you, um… want to try something new, then?” You offer, sitting back to look him in the eye, ready to catch any amount of uncertainty in his two-toned gaze. But you find none, for he captures your lips again and nibbles on your bottom lip, another hum or approval vibrating against your mouth.

From there he hands the reins to you, opting to lean back into the cushions of the sofa as your tongue guides his in a slow embrace. Your palms both land on his chest, fingertips starting to massage the thick muscles underneath his t-shirt. Shouto sighs as your hands slide down his torso, and just as they dip underneath he sits up slightly, tearing the flimsy material over his head in one quick sweep. With the fabric out of your way, you try to keep yourself calm, your eyes now feasting on his broad, sculpted chest and abs. Saliva begins to pool in your mouth at the wonderful sight, your tongue poking out to wet your lips as you scan over his physique again and again.

Just as he’s about to make fun of your lustful stare, you move in to place a few light kisses to his jaw and neck, the action making him tense up and flex his gorgeous torso for you. Careful not to leave any marks on his throat, you make your way down his chest, taking a moment to leave a ring of wet smooches around his nipple. The muscles jump again for you, his body sensitive to your foreign touch as you slowly take the bud into your mouth, sucking just enough for him to squirm.

“That kind of… ahh, tickles,” Shouto mumbles as your tongue traces over his skin, his bottom lip between his teeth as you move to the other side of his chest and repeat the action. He sighs as you pull away, welcoming the kiss you place on his lips afterwards. His abs become rigid underneath the slow trail of your fingernails that move south, his eyes opening mid-way through the kiss as your hand grows closer and closer to his pelvis.

Just as he’s about to pull away, you move back from his mouth, your shirt flying over your head and onto the floor behind you. Shouto can barely breathe as he looks at your bare skin, the smooth expanse of your shoulders to your hips on display for him, save for the bra covering your chest. He’s fixated on the tops of your breasts, the round, smooth flesh mesmerizing him completely. Sure, he’s seen your cleavage before, but in comparison to this, that’s nothing.

“W-Wow…” he falters, struggling to tear his gaze off of them. There’s a little bow in the middle of the cloth contraption, and he can’t help but compare the sight before him to a present. Oh, how he wants to unwrap it…

You giggle at his awe-struck expression, your self-esteem soaring higher than it has in months. Just as you’re about to instruct him, he moves a hand to cup one side of your bra, his thumb running over your skin. A whimper escapes you when he squeezes you, his face moving closer so that the tip of his nose runs across your collarbone, his lips ghosting kisses across your chest. You wonder if he can feel your heart racing beneath his lips as they trace the cusp of your bra— how it races when he presses his face between your tits, inhaling the warm, clean smell of you that lingers there. “M-Mphhh, Sho…” you sigh as he sucks a hickey into your skin, his mouth pulling your flesh out from under the fabric cup.

Your hands fumble as they move behind your back to undo the clasp, but Shouto doesn’t have time for that, it seems. Instead, he opts to push the straps from your shoulders, tugging the bottom of the material down your ribs and completely exposing your chest to him without ever moving his mouth from your skin. You still manage to unclasp the confining material, letting it fall to the ground without a care. When he does finally let go of you, he moves back to examine your naked chest, his lower lip disappearing between his straight, white teeth. His eyes are half-lidded, and he dives straight back into your chest, circling around your areola with swift kisses and teasing licks, repeating the same process you had done to him. His warm mouth enveloping your nipple makes you let out a stifled cry, your hips jerking against his lap on their own accord.

Shouto moans at the movement, his hand gently squeezing your other breast as he sucks on the pert bud in his mouth, tongue swirling around it with ease. You reposition so your legs are on either side of one of his, placing your clothed core against the rough material of his jeans and beginning to move your hips in slow, wide movements. It only urges Shouto on, for he switches his attention to the other side of his chest and repeats the same ministrations there, one hand coming to cup your ass and move in tune with your slow gyrations.

At this point you can feel yourself leaking onto your panties, your excitement only multiplying as he allows you to grind against him. You’d never imagined he’d be so eager to touch you, after so much time of him rejecting your advances. But you couldn’t care about that now, with your pussy brushing all over his muscular thigh and his mouth attacking your bare chest. The thrill only increases further when you readjust your hips, moving closer to him and feeling the hardness of his erect cock tucked into the front of his pants. You can feel your cunt twitching around nothing, drooling even more for him as you rub yourself against his front, your head falling back as you start to pant.

Shouto whines at the friction, his face falling into the corner of your neck as he tries to gather himself. Was this what he had been missing out on all this time? He sighs as he wonders what you look like completely naked— how you would look with your legs spread for him, wrapped around his skull, or better yet— his waist. The knowledge that you want him is too tempting— he can’t get enough of you, can’t stop himself from shoving his thumbs under the hem of your bottoms. And then you’re standing, letting your clothing hit the floor and leaving yourself exposed for his eyes, save for your panties which have another little bow at the front. His eyes travel up and down your legs— a part of you that has always attracted him, perhaps a bit too much. They look delicious presented like this before him, bare and inviting all along your calves and thighs, then leading to the panties that barely cover your hips. His cock twitches in his jeans as he inspects the marks he’d just made all across your chest, a possessive conscience inside of him murmuring its satisfaction.

“Is this okay?” You ask as you sink to your knees in front of the couch, looking up at him with cautious, yet lust-ridden eyes. The recognition of your desire makes his own appetite spike, and he nods his affirmation to you.

You smirk up at him, moving closer to him and sliding between his legs. He holds his breath as you start to kiss up his thigh, starting from the inside of his knee and moving your way toward your destination. Your hand reaches up to soothe down his chest, your other hand cupping the underside of his thigh and moving in sync with your mouth. Your fingers finally meet the button on his jeans, and he lets out the breath he was holding as you undo the metal zipper. He helps you peel the denim off his thighs, leaving the material bunched at his knees as you inspect his hard member through his tight, black boxer-briefs. You take a moment to thank whatever God there is for blessing you with such a nice cock; you can tell even through his underwear that he’s long, and thick.

The very tip pokes out of the band at the top, him having tucked it up at some point when the pair of you were initially making out. What you can see is dark pink and glazed with a pearlescent sheen of pre-cum, the material at the top of his briefs slightly damp. The legs on either side of you keep tensing and fidgeting, and as you reach a hand for his shaft his hips shift backwards, away from your touch.

“Hey,” you murmur softly, stroking his thigh as you look up at him. His expression is guarded, but you can see the uncertainty that shines through his gaze, the mask that successfully keeps others out futile to you. “Are you sure you want to continue? It’s okay if we stop here, baby.” You push yourself to sit taller using the tops of his knees, placing a long kiss to his cheek and giving him a nuzzle of understanding.

Shouto frowns, leaning into you and taking a deep breath. “No, I want to… I just, I guess I’m a little nervous? I’m not quite sure what to do…” he explains, unsure of himself.

“You don’t have to do anything,” you reply, kissing his cheek again as you continue. “Just sit back and relax, baby. I promise I’m gonna take care of you, gonna make you feel so good. Let me know if you want to stop at any time, alright?”

He smiles at your understanding, nodding and verbalizing an “Alright” before you capture his lips with yours. You kiss him with all the passion you can muster, and it distracts him enough to relax into the couch cushions, your hand coming up to cup his sharp jawline. Your tongues are busy tangling together when your hand lands on his abs, which jump under your touch but eventually they, too, relax after a few minutes.

When your fingers wrap around his cock through his briefs, he tenses underneath you again, his hips pushing toward you as your hand starts to move up and down. Shouto makes a muffled noise as your hand finds a steady, torturously slow rhythm, your hand squeezing around his thick shaft through the dark, cotton material. His hand comes up to the back of your neck to deepen the kiss, fingers curling into the hair at the nape of your neck and pulling slightly. You move your hand in accordance with the muffled sounds that escape him through your kiss, his hushed moans adding fuel to the inferno in your stomach.

After a few minutes of your slow, over-the-briefs handjob, you move back from his searing kiss, a string of saliva extending between your mouths. Your eyes lock with his, intensity sizzling as you both move the briefs off his legs, his cock springing upright in the bottom field of your vision. His length jumps when your fingers brush against the tip, gathering the silvery slickness of his pre-cum and using it to coast your fist down around his shaft, squeezing just enough to create a pleasant tightness around him.

Shouto swears as you start to jerk your fist around his thickness, your smaller hand creating a different sensation and much more appealing visual than the sight of his own fingers wrapped around himself. He moans when your hand glides over the head of his cock, his grip tightening on your hair as his eyelids flutter closed. You kiss his cheek again, catching his attention as he turns to you and allows your tongue to enter his mouth. You take all the whimpers pouring from his lips and greedily swallow them, your lips dancing with his in tune with your strokes.

Slowly you move away from his face, his lips following yours until you gently push him back to rest against the back of the sofa again. He allows you to move him backwards, heaving for air as your hot and heavy kisses leave him breathless. Once you lower your face to his lap, he tenses up, although his hips shuffle forward eagerly. You make sure to lock eyes with him as you move your mouth towards the flushed head of his cock, and you keep his gaze steady as your lips wrap around the very tip of him.

“S-Shit Y/N,” he gasps, watching as his member gradually disappears into your mouth. You glide your lips down his thick length slowly, trying not to overwhelm him as you start to suck on the tip, your hand beginning to jerk his shaft at the same time. When your lips move down, so does your hand, and as Shouto becomes accustomed to the wet, tight heat of your mouth, you slowly take more and more of him into your mouth, until the head of his cock brushes the back of your throat. Shouto throws his head back onto the top of the cushions, a hand pushing his hair off his forehead and backwards as he loudly voices his pleasure in a cacophony of moans.

The noises that slither out of the man underneath you are delicious, and you can’t seem to get enough as your pace begins to pick up. Your hand is still wrapped around the base of his length, his cock too big to fit all the way in your throat, but that doesn’t stop you from trying to take him anyways. Pulling back just long enough to take in a breath of fresh air, you smile at his wrecked expression above you, tongue tracing over your lips. “Mmm, does that feel good, baby? Do you like when I suck your cock like this?”

“Ahhaaaa, fuck— y-yeah, like that, baby… yesyesyes you feel so good,” Shouto blabbers nearly incoherently as your throat glides around his aching member. Given his stuttered response, you happily service him, content to finally have him at your disposal. His length is too impressive to comfortably fit in your mouth, your jaw stretching to accommodate him as you swallow around him, successfully stealing a broken gasp from him in response. You close your eyes and allow yourself to focus on keeping a steady rhythm for both your mouth and hand to follow. His moans just keep getting louder, a breathless array of oh, fuck, shit, yeah, ahh, and yeses with every bob of your head.

As you’re diligently sucking him off, Shouto is barely keeping it together underneath you. His cock is twitching and leaking pre-cum down your throat, his balls heavy with the need to release. He watches your lips move up and down his length, your hand following suit at the very base. His mind wanders as he wonders where you want him to finish; inside your mouth, on your tits, on your face? He groans as he pictures all three, imagining you covered in his sticky seed, wherever it may end up, has him feeling close much too quick. But he can’t stop himself, and he can’t bring himself to stop you, either— you feel so fucking good on his cock. You’re better than he ever could imagine, and it’s just your mouth that’s wrapped around him— he can’t even imagine how between your legs will feel. He barely manages to mumble your name in warning as he feels his climax coming, too charged for him to do anything to stop it.

Luckily you already know he’s about to finish, for his muscles tighten up and strain as ample warning for his imminent release. You move your lips down his cock, taking in as much as you can before he’s calling out your name and shooting a thick, heavy load down your throat. You choke on his release, not much room in your mouth to begin with, with how long and thick he is already. He’s still gushing cum as you pull off of him, a few ropes of white spraying across your lips and chin while his body shakes in ecstasy.

You sit back and wipe his release off your face with your wet hand, licking the excess off your skin as you watch Shouto’s soul return to his body. He’s struggling to catch his breath, eyes barely open as he looks down at you sitting between his legs. Despite the heaviness in his limbs, he still gathers your arms in his hands, pulling you up onto the sofa to hover over his lap. He sighs as he nuzzles his face into your neck, your soft skin helping to draw him back from the euphoric heaven you had just sent him to. His arms wrapping around you loosely, he starts to kiss your neck, his long eyelashes tickling your jaw as he showers your skin in affection. His attention makes butterflies flap around inside your stomach, and that scorching heat ignites again as his fingers slide down your waist to the band of your panties.

You try to draw back to look at him, but Shouto’s grip on you is too secure, and he won’t let you pull away from him as he just nuzzles deeper into your neck. You can’t help but gasp when his fingers dive underneath the sides of your panties— his palms gliding against your bare hips and digits splaying across your ass. “S-Sho,” you whine as he cups your ass cheeks, pulling your hips to slot above his, his cock already erect again. You whimper when he guides you closer to him, the very tip of his cock catching at just the right angle to brush against the wet patch on your underwear. Hell, the whole underside of your panties is soaked with your arousal, your pussy probably more saturated than ever before. You’re so turned on, you can’t think straight as your hips begin to weakly shift back and forth, rubbing his cockhead along your clothed slit.

Shouto sighs as his hand recedes from your panties, instead moving to rub your dripping slit through the drenched material. You moan at the feeling of his hand through the fabric, your slick in such quantity that when he pulls his hand away, a thick string of your arousal trails after his fingers. He groans at the sight, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together to test the viscosity. He makes a mental note that this must be what’s meant when one has a “wap”, or “wet ass pussy”, as he recalls from a certain song. His heart is racing in his chest, the discovery of your cunt so ready for him only making his cock strain harder against your sopping panties.

“So wet…” Shouto mumbles as he touches you again, cupping your core through your underwear and rubbing his palm against your clit. He watches intently as your face contorts in pleasure, and he rolls his palm against your front again experimentally, making a mental note of your increased sensitivity there.

Before he moves any further though, he presses his lips to yours in an intense kiss, successfully distracting you as he slides your underwear to the side. He can feel your pussy twitch and contract against his hand when he lines the tips of two fingers up with the hole that your slick is pouring out of. And he can definitely feel you spasm around him as he slides the digits inside with ease, remembering to curl the tips of them just as the countless guides and videos he had watched in preparation for such activities suggested.

“Y-Yes, ahh my God, Sho—” you gasp at the intrusion, your walls fluttering around the fingers.

His long digits slowly move in and out of you, the tips curling into your spongy walls as they sheath inside you completely. You moan at the sensation of his fingers inside of you, moving a hand to your front to rub your clit. It’s not long before you’re humping his hand, your arousal leaking onto his palm as you seat your hips back and forth on his fingers. Your mouth is hanging open, intense pleasure emanating from his fingertips rubbing that gummy spot located just deep enough for your fingers to be too short to reach. You can feel your orgasm building with each roll of the hips, a slow and steady escalation toward certain ecstasy.

Shouto moans along with you, watching the look of bliss on your face each time you sit back onto his fingers, and committing it to memory. You look absolutely captivating getting off on his hand, but the urge to feel you wrapped around his cock is too strong to ignore. He pulls his hand out of your cunt, watching as the syrupy slick trails after his fingers before severing, the warm, slimy wetness returning to your spread pussy. The sight is too enticing to just look at— he grabs his cock and jerks himself a few times, watching your slick spread across his length. It feels unlike any other lubricant he’s used— spit, lotion, shampoo all nothing in comparison to the sweet nectar your body produces just for him— simply divine. 

If he thinks that’s divine, pressing his cock into you is as if the gates of heaven have been exploded open with dynamite, drowning him in a pool of ethereal ambrosia that he never wants to escape. Your walls stretch around his girth and hug him like never before; it’s wetter, tighter, and hotter than anything he’s ever imagined, and if he hadn’t already cum from your mouth just minutes before, he’s sure he would’ve cum right here and now.

You’re just about there, only a third of his cock managing to push into you before your walls start to clamp, that tension in your abdomen intensifying at an alarming rate. You throw your head back and moan unabashedly as his cock glides into you entirely in one movement, your cunt wringing snug around him as you cum. You’d be ashamed if it were with anyone else, but Shouto’s so thick and long that you just let yourself ride out your orgasm, your cunt pulsing and squeezing him tight. It feels like a religious experience cumming on his cock— he’s by far the biggest you’ve ever taken, and it’s been so long since you’ve had sex in the first place that you’re too turned on to care. A fresh wave of slick begins to leak from deep inside you, the aftermath of your abrupt orgasm coming in handy as you finally come-to enough to move your hips.

Shouto’s holding onto you for dear life at this point, knuckles white as his fingers dig bruises into your hips. He’s never been squeezed so tight before— never felt anything like your pussy, like you cumming on his cock. And even though he’s overwhelmed with the mesmerizing feeling, he still manages to keep his cool somehow, now evening his breath as he begins to thrust up into you. He decides he loves your moans— every noise you make from being impaled by his huge cock is music to his ears, a symphony he never wants to end.

“A-Ahaa ha, Shoutooo~” you cry, fireworks bursting across your nerves. “You’re so big, ah— it— it feels so gooood.”

You can’t seem to close your mouth— it’s too hard to focus on anything besides what might as well be his third leg thrusting into you over and over. His movements are relentless; never allowing you to come down from the high you’d been catapulted into with just one stroke of his cock. He’s so big inside of you, he’s probably the largest you can take while still feeling pleasure instead of pain. You feel like you’re the one losing your virginity here, not him— because, God have you never felt so filled to the brim in your life— his cock stretches and penetrates you so deliciously that you feel like any orgasm you’ve had before this doesn’t really count. It can’t count, can’t compare to this, to him.

Shouto is on the same page as you, desperately drilling into your sloppy cunt as if his life depends on it. It feels so good to be squeezed by your tight little hole, to have your fingernails dig crescent-moons into the skin on his shoulder blades, and hear your desperate cries for him. “Fuck, you— you feel so good, baby,” he pants, letting your pussy fall onto his lap and swallow his cock inside of you. “You’re so fucking sexy, y-yeah… so wet for me, so good for me.”

His praise causes a wave of goosebumps to rise across your skin, a burst of energy surging through you as you start to move your hips in sync with his thrusts. Shouto’s pace weakens as he lets you take control, sitting back and absorbing the pleasure that flows through his entire body at the quick snap of your hips. He feels like he’s in a trance as your hands move to grip the tops of his shoulders, leveraging yourself so your hips swing in a perfect arc that allows his cock to glide in and out of you completely. He watches as your hips swing back, the head of his cock slipping out of you halfway, only to be slurped back inside your tight heat all the way to the base.

Sweat is starting to accumulate and drip down your bodies, but neither of you are paying attention to that— Shouto reaches out and gropes your chest, fingers trapping your nipple and rolling it gently. You mewl at the sensation, your hips working even faster now, the dull ache of another climax forming in the pit of your stomach. You furiously hump his lap, your thrusts becoming off-beat and sloppy as your muscles scream with exertion. Frustration blooms in your heart— your stamina must have reduced in the past few months of abstinence.

“Sho, I’m… gonna cum again, fuck I’m so close,” you whine, pushing your ass onto his lap and stirring your guts with his cock as you swivel your hips.

Shouto hums at your confession, an arm winding around your hips and his hand landing on the plush underside of your thigh. His fingers dig into your flesh as he supports your body with his arm, his hips rutting up into yours with force. Each thrust has stars dancing along the borders of your vision, the power behind his hips much stronger than your desperate humping from before.

“I wanna feel you cum on my cock again, Y/N,” Shouto moans, tongue poking out to flick against your nipple, your tits in his face due to the change of position. “Want you to squeeze me and milk everything out of me, y-yeah…”

You nearly scream when his thumb finds your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves with vigor as those two-toned eyes bore into yours. The surprise quickly morphs into bliss, your cunt wringing around his length as you feel yourself hurtle toward your orgasm for the second time. It’s not long before you’re there, ecstasy rushing through your entirety as you clutch onto him tightly, your toes curling and body shaking from the rush.

“Fuck,” he swears, both hands moving to grab your hips and pound his cock into your quivering cunt, delivering another level of pleasure to your orgasm. His bottom lip is trapped between his teeth, eyes darting between your face and your wet pussy that keeps swallowing him whole. “Ahaah— c-cumming—”

Shouto lets out a loud groan as he pulls out of you, hot, white ribbons of cum spurting across your stomach as he climaxes. Your hand reaches down to jerk him off and he continues to paint your skin with his seed, his body shaking as his orgasm ripples through him. His throbbing length is slick with your love juices, making it easy for your fingers to slide around him.

His head hits the back of the couch as he releases the last of his load, chest heaving while he tries to collect himself. The devastating pleasure of your climax leaves your body feeling weightless and your brain loopy, and all you can do is lean against his athletic physique and catch your breath.

“I love you,” Shouto whispers seriously in your ear, fingers deftly playing with the ends of your hair. He means it; he feels like his heart is so full of happiness, and he’s so comfortable basking in the afterglow of his orgasm with your naked skin on his.

You stifle the laugh that bubbles up in your throat, a small smile playing on your lips. “So sweet~” you tease, cuddling your face into his neck as his hands rub the length of your back. “I love you too, Shouto.”

Shouto hums in content, arms hugging you tight against him for a brief moment before he relaxes again. “I’m so lucky to have you,” he confesses softly, nudging the side of your face with his nose. He can feel your lips turn into a grin against his chest, and he smiles at your content.

“You’re being so sappy right now,” you point out, unable to stop smiling as you turn to look at him. “I really like this side of you, I’m happy to see you like this.”

“I’m happy, too,” he murmurs, his lips pressing against yours in a sweet and short kiss. “I kind of wish we did this sooner though…”

You laugh at that, and his soft smile turns into a grin that he doesn’t bother to conceal. “Mmm, I think it was worth the wait,” you disagree, snuggling closer to him and rubbing your skin against his affectionately.

Shouto looks down at you resting against his chest, examining your blissful smile and eyes closed in content. Yes, he thinks.

You were worth the wait.

  ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

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wow that ended so soft pls excuse me im on my period and so emotional at the moment lmfaoooo... okokokok but post coitus snuggly sho is KILLING M E ... anywAYY lol let me know if you enjoyed!! this was kinda different from the usual smut i write so! i’d love any feedback i could get :) 

as always, thanks for reading! 💗

➥ masterlist

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[bubblesuga]

Mahina || Part 1

Summary: Jungkook couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something drawing him to you. Like the moon tugs at the tides, he needed to be beside you. genre: smut, fluff, angst word count: 4,626 tags: idol!au, fantasy!au

When Jungkook awoke this morning, something was... different.

He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but the air in his room seemed to have shifted slightly. He felt lighter on his feet, a sudden bounce to his step while he pulled himself off of the bed and towards the bathroom.

He brushes his teeth as usual, carefully scrubbing his tongue and admiring his reflection in the mirror. The eyebrow piercing was a good edition, he thinks. It accentuates his high brow and sparkles underneath even the dimmest light. Spritzing himself with cologne, he opens the bathroom door just in time.

"Jungkook, I made breakfast! Hurry up!"

Smiling to himself, he trots down the stairs of the far too large penthouse he and his band mates bought a couple years ago. He doesn't mind sharing with 6 other people, though. Having grown up with no siblings, he enjoys the dynamics at play when he speaks to the members. They're all his brothers, co-workers, family... He couldn't have asked for a better turn out when it came to finding a career path.

Yoongi is standing in the kitchen when Jungkook walks in, the smell of pork and kimchi filling his nose. Thanking his hyung, he grabs a bowl and starts filling up.

"You seem happy this morning," Yoongi raises an eyebrow, "what's going on?"

"I don't know," Jungkook shrugs, "I just woke up in a really good mood. I feel like--" he takes a bit of his food, then speaks with his mouth full, "--something amazing is going to happen today."

"We just have rehearsals?" Yoongi's statement comes off as more of a question.

"Exactly." Jungkook says, continuing to munch on his food. Yoongi looks at the younger man and shakes his head, continuing to fry meat for the rest of the members.

"Hey, did Namjoon come home last night?" Seokjin asks as he walks into the kitchen. He takes a spot beside Jungkook on the counter, reaching into his bowl and grabbing a piece of pork belly. Jungkook attempts to push his hand away but Seokjin smacks it and grabs the meat anyway.

Yoongi shakes his head again, "Nah. He stayed at the studio last night, said something about a last minute inspiration."

Jungkook has noticed Namjoon's lack of attentiveness recently. It seems as though his head is always filled with potential themes and lyrics and beats, much more so than even in the early days of the band. He's curious about his inspiration as of late but Namjoon doesn't seem to want to give away his methods any time soon.

"He's been doing that a lot lately." Jungkook thinks outloud.

"More power to him," Seokjin says, "man works his ass off and it benefits all of us."

Yeah, it definitely does.

~*~*~

"5, 6, 7-"

Hoseok's counting is cut off by the music blasting again. It's the third run through of the new choreography, Jungkook is center and carefully watches the rest of his hyungs in the mirror. He moves to the left, following Hoseok's lead and smiling as he notices a mis-step on Jimin's part. Jimin throws his head back and yells, lifting his shirt up and wiping some of the sweat that's accumulated on his brow.

"It's okay, Jiminie," Hoseok sings, "this shit is hard."

Seokjin nods in agreement, "Yeah, what the hell happened to a laid back choreography for this come back?"

"It's the last one of the year. We gotta go out with a bang." Jungkook turns back to look at Namjoon, who chugs water in the corner of the room. "Speaking of big come backs, are you working on your mixtape?"

Namjoon laughs, "Nah, definitely not. I'm trying to get a couple more songs for the album."

"Don't we have like 14 tracks?" Taehyung speaks for the first time since rehearsal started.

"16 is better than 14." Namjoon smiles, listening to Hoseok as he calls everyone over again.

"One more time. 5, 6-"

It's then that the doors burst open and Hyun enters in. "And this is the rehearsal room containing the 7 men you will be photographing."

Jungkook's eyes travel to the person his manager is talking to, and he has to hold back a gasp. He feels the way his jaw drops, but he's unable to close his mouth while he looks at you. God, you're gorgeous. Your hair cascades down your back and your clothes cling to your body in all the right ways. Jungkook struggles to tear his eyes away, but once he sees your smile he realizes there's no way he can turn away. You're literally glowing, with god-like shining eyes. Who are you?

"Boys, this is _____. She's in charge of photography and will be around to film Bangtan Bombs, behind the scenes, or anything you all want filmed and made into content."

Jungkook repeats your name in his head five times. He whispers it to himself once while everyone else heads to you to shake your hand. Jungkook stands back, finally blinking his eyes.

You step forward after having shook the hands of everyone else, "And you're Jungkook," you smile again, "I like your tattoos. Glad you're finally willing to show them."

"T- tattoos..." Jungkook mutters pathetically as he takes your outstretched hand. You giggle, shaking his hand enthusiastically.

"Well, anyway. It was nice to meet you all. I'm excited to work closely with every one of you." your words are met with a chorus of 'same!' from everyone except for Jungkook.

Hyun puts a hand on your shoulder and leads you out of the room, continuing on the tour of the HYBE building. Jungkook stares after you, the doorway now long empty but he couldn't look away. You were, by far, the most beautiful woman he has ever come across. With your simple torn jeans and black t-shirt, he feels you could pull off anything you put on your body.

It's not until Yoongi speaks does Jungkook finally tear his eyes away, "Could you have been any creepier?"

"What?"

Jimin bursts into laughter, his frustration with the choreography long gone, "You were-" he takes a deep breath in between laughter, "you were staring at her like she was the last woman on the planet!"

"W- what?" Jungkook stammers.

Jimin doesn't respond, only laughing louder as he falls to the ground. Jungkook can see the hidden smirks of the rest of the members, turning his to look at everyone, "What the fuck just happened?"

"Love at first sight?" Taehyung suggests.

"More like love at first drool." Seokjin begins laughing before he even finishes his sentence, causing the rest of the members to groan at his joke.

Jungkook doesn't react to Seokjin though, as he turns to look back at the empty doorway. If love at first sight is a real thing, Jungkook just experienced it to the fullest extent.

~*~*~

Jungkook manages to continue the rest of rehearsal without a problem, except for the way his mind kept traveling back to you. Saying your name in his head again, he washes up in the gym showers. He thinks back to the way your skin seemed to be literally glowing to him, and your bright white teeth hypnotizing him.

Never in his life has he had such a short conversation with someone that had such an impact. He wants to learn everything about you, your passions, the music you like, the books you read. He hopes that you enjoy some of the same things he does, so he has an excuse to talk to you.

Though his interest in you is certainly piqued, he has to keep in mind that you are, essentially, his employee, and fantasizing about your employee is more than inappropriate.

Fantasizing might not be the right word, but he can't help and imagine conversations between the two of you. Your voice is so pretty, it's light but carries through the room. You make sure your presence is known, though with the way you shine you didn't have to try hard. He smiles to himself, closing his eyes and rinsing off the conditioner from hair. Then, he wonders what your hair looks like when it's wet.

Okay, Jungkook. That's enough.

He shakes the water off his head and wraps a towel around his body. Exiting the shower, he realizes he forgot his bag in the dance room and sighs. Checking the time on his phone, he realizes that it's after 9 pm. The odds of anyone other than the members being here is pretty slim so he can just walk his way to the rehearsal room and change in there, right?

Right.

Tightening the towel around his waist, he walks out of the gym bathroom and strolls down the hall. He scrolls through his phone while he walks, rounding the corner and hearing your voice.

"Thank you, Mr. Lee. I'm very excited to properly start tomorrow."

"We're excited to have you," Jungkook peeks his head around the corner and watches Hyun bow to you, "your work is incredible and I know Taehyung in particular loves your shooting style."

What? Taehyung knows her? Jungkook must have missed that earlier when he couldn't stop staring at you.

"Yeah! It still blows my mind that one of the bangtan boys followed my work," you let out a small, somewhat embarrassed giggle, "thank god for Instagram."

You and Hyun share a laugh, followed by a goodbye. Jungkook gasps as he sees you turn in his direction, rushing to a small doorway and pushing himself up against the wall. You can't see him like this, not already. He's nearly naked and he knows this towel isn't big enough to cover himself as well as he should in front of a stranger, so he holds his breath as your foot steps become closer... and closer... and-

"Hey Jungkook."

Fuck.

Jungkook exhales a breath and moves to tighten the towel around his waist even more. You're eyes are not scanning his body like he thought you would be. Of course, Jungkook knows that sounds cocky of him to say but he can't help but assume that that would be the outcome of this situation. Either way, his face still burns when your eyes meet his. Those gorgeous, glowing eyes.

"Were ya hiding?" you laugh, tilting your head to the side, and Jungkook realizes that he's still pressed up against the wall.

"I- I, uh-" come on Jungkook, get it together, "Sorry. I didn't want you to see me naked."

"Oh please. When humans are naked, they're at their purest forms. It's natural, there's nothing to be embarrassed about." you smile brightly, moving a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. Your phrasing is odd, but he doesn't question it. Instead, he swallows, "You're right, but I'm sure you wouldn't have been okay with my dick just hangin' out. Neither would the security watching the cameras."

You laugh, a proper laugh that doesn't seem to be masked by something else, and Jungkook realizes it's melodic. A fine tune singing into his ears as one of the most beautiful songs he has ever heard. It's soft, breathy, and makes him want to make you laugh for the rest of eternity.

"Either way," you say after a moment, the hint of humor still in your voice, "nothing to be ashamed of. I'll see you tomorrow, Jungkook."

Jungkook tilts his head, watching you wave and waving back as you carry your feet towards the elevators.

~*~*~

The air was even lighter this morning, and Jungkook can't help but think you play a part in his bright mood.

Following the conversation yesterday, Jungkook walked with a grin on his face to grab his clothes. You're incredibly charismatic, an stark difference to Jungkook's usual shy and laid back personality. Despite your conversations together being minimal, Jungkook feels you and him are going to be close.

Jungkook hops out of bed and styles his hair carefully. Checking his phone as he brushes his teeth, he's received a text from Taehyung apologizing because he had already left. The house sounds still, he remembers Yoongi and Seokjin opted at staying at their respective apartments tonight, wanting to be a little closer to home. Namjoon probably stayed at the studio again and Jimin and Hoseok more than likely left with Taehyung. He shrugs, making a quick protein shake and grabbing a banana before heading out of the door.

As he drives to work, he makes note at how much more productive the members have been these days. Not that they never were, but the usual slump of exhaustion that follows months of continuous promotions, rehearsals, and recording doesn't seem to be hitting anyone this time around. Surely, the explanation is the high everyone is riding from the success of Butter and Permission To dance in the west. It's motivated everyone, including Jungkook himself.

He pulls into the parking garage, rides the elevator up to the 13th floor, and steps off only to be stopped by Hoseok.

"Jungkookie!" Hoseok wraps his arms around Jungkook's neck and squeezes him tight.

"Hoseokie!" Jungkook mocks, giving a pat to the older one's back. Hoseok pulls away with a chuckle, "I guess _____ is doing behind the scene shoots today. Something about wanting to catch us in our element."

"Oh? Like individual shoots?"

"Yeah," he smiles, "she's with Yoongi in his studio right now. She told me to tell everyone to choose a thing they do on a daily basis that might be interesting to see for ARMY."

"Should I work out?" Jungkook smirks. Hoseok rolls his eyes, patting Jungkook's pecs,

"You work out enough." Smiling, he begin walking towards the commons area,

"I'm almost to where I want to be." "Whatever Jungkook, you bully us enough already." Hoseok pats Jungkook's head and walks away, leaving Jungkook to sit on the couches for a moment.

He picks up his phone and scrolls through Weverse and Twitter for a moment. Despite not being as active as people wish he could be, he does keep up with what everyone is talking about. Currently he sees excitement about their online concert from last year coming to DVD, and "JUNGKOOK'S ABS" is trending.

Yeah, he's definitely going to work out for his behind the scenes.

Holding his phone up, he snaps a quick selfie and posts it to Twitter. Once a month seems to be a good formula.

"Jungkook?" Yoongi's voice enters the room, "She's gonna shoot with Namjoon then you."

"Ah," Jungkook stands, "time to get nice and sweaty for ARMY."

"You're such a freak." Yoongi laughs, watching Jungkook leave the room.

Jungkook begins on the treadmill, listening to music and trying not to think about the fact that you're going to be photographing him while he's working out. He feels somewhat dumb, being so incredibly invested in your opinions of him already, but like yesterday proved, there was something about you that drew him in.

He speeds up the treadmill, his calves burning and his breathing quickening while he runs. It's incredible, the feeling of absolute bliss he feels after a run. When his muscles ache and his chest feels clear, he feels most at peace. Though, peace isn't difficult to come across these days. Even with the sadness of not being able to perform live like he wants to, it's not as looming as it was before. It's incredibly exhilarating to wake up not feeling like the end is near. It happened so suddenly, he's not sure what changed.

At the beginning, when they had to cancel the tour and stay in Korea, Jungkook felt as though life was never going to be the same. It was dark for everyone. He remembers Jimin crying in the bathroom after the cancellation, which caused Jungkook to start crying as well. He scrolled through social media for hours, reading the anger and frustration at those who had to return their tickets. It pained him, to see such a bleak view of the fans he adored.

Now that it's been close to 2 years, Jungkook has learned to-- for lack of a better term-- live with it. He wakes up every day and tries his hardest to live, and that's all you can do when your passion in life is ripped away from you due to an ongoing worldwide pandemic.

The gym doors slide open and Jungkook looks in the mirror to see you.

You have a camera around your neck, Jungkook recognizes it as a Canon. You close the door behind you and stop him as Jungkook starts to slow down the treadmill.

"Pretend like I'm not even here." you nearly whisper, and Jungkook has to stop himself from choking on his spit. Your voice sounded almost sultry. He can't tell if that was his imagination or if it was intentional on your part.

Jungkook shakes his head, turning up the speed just a little bit more.

He hears the shutter on your camera clicking, the action setting in full effect as he runs. You move around him, being sure not to get yourself in the mirror of the shots. The only noises in the room are his breathing and the sounds of his feet hitting the runway. It's rough, his chest heaving the more he pushes himself, but he's more interested in the way you seem to float around the room, or the fact that your hands seem dwarfed by the large camera.

It makes him wonder what your hands would look like on him.

A necklace dangles from your neck, it's gold and shines under the lights of the gym. It falls gently into the crevice of your chest, what looks like a golden moon on the end of the chain.

Again, he wonders what your skin would feel like against his.

"You gotta stop looking at the camera." you giggle.

He didn't even realize his eyes were following you. Suddenly, it's like a wave of confidence washes over him. Confidence that he was not ready for.

He swallows, taking a deep breath, "I'm not looking at the camera." Why is he saying this?

"Yes you are," you grin, "I have like 7 pictures in a row of you looking directly at the camera."

"No," he shakes his head, "I'm looking at the person holding the camera." Shut up, Jungkook. Stop talking!

"Oh?" you laugh, "what's catching your eye?"

"The necklace." what the fuck? He basically admitted to staring at your tits!

"The necklace that's right in between my tits?"

He laughs, you snap a picture.

"I guess so, I'm sorry." The usual nervousness that he would feel at an admission like that is non-existent. He feels comfortable enough to talk to you like this, and judging by the way you smile, you're comfortable with it too.

"No need to be sorry," you snap another picture, "I know they draw attention."

Jungkook nods, "They certainly do."

"What do you like about them?"

The question throws Jungkook for a loop but he doesn't let that show.

"They're perky," he explains, stopping the treadmill, "and your shirts show off the perfect amount to leave some to the imagination."

"Ah, so you're imagining my tits?"

"Yes."

You smirk, walking away. For a moment, Jungkook is scared he said too much, but it's very quickly washed away by the sound of the lock turning. "So," you begin, "you're saying that if I took off my shirt, you wouldn't be opposed to looking at me?"

Jungkook shakes his head, "I also wouldn't be opposed to touching you."

"Well," you slip off your shirt, "I'm ready."

Jungkook feels his cock twitch in his gym shorts at the sight of your bra. Of your fucking bra.

Despite the blood rushing to his cock, he shakes his head, "Oh come on, darling. You know that's not enough for me."

"Your shirt first, buddy." your eyes follow Jungkook as he grips the hem of his shirt and pulls it off. Now that there's verbal consent, your eyes roam all over his torso. He's ripped, Jungkook knows this, but under your gaze he feels like a meal. Like he's about to get devoured by you, and he can't say he's not enjoying the idea.

You reach behind you, unhooking your bra and allowing it to fall to the ground.

Jungkook's eyes widen at sight, stepping closer to you and falling to his knees. He places his nose against your torso, inhaling your scent. The sensuality of the small gasp that left your mouth fueled Jungkook. He grabs your hands and pulls you down to his level, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your lips.

It's rough and heated, all teeth and tongue. He's not used to being this way, to feeling almost primal in his movements. He gnaws at your bottom lip, eliciting another moan from you. It's high pitched and nearly whiny, proving that you're suddenly filled with as much need as he is.

"I'm gonna fuck you," Jungkook states, "right here. Right now."

"Please." you toss your head back, falling onto the padded floors of the gym. Jungkook follows suit, kissing his way down your body until he reaches your navel. Again, he presses his nose into you and inhales, you smell so damn good.

He keeps smelling, inhaling your scent as he undoes the buttons of your jeans. The less clothing there, the stronger your scent becomes. He feels insatiable, nearly ripping off your panties to get to your center.

"Fuck, you're so wet already," Jungkook groans, his voice deep with want, with need. Taking a single finger up your slit, he draws it back and sucks your juices clean, "and you taste as good as you smell."

You stare up at him with hooded eyes, holding yourself up on your elbows and spreading your legs as wide as you can. "Now that you've had a taste you might as well finish it."

Jungkook doesn't need to be told twice, diving into your soaked folds with his tongue. He moves fast but also meticulously, being sure to take note of all the places that make you moan a little louder, sink a little deeper into him. Your hand reaches down and snakes its way through his hair, tugging at the roots.

At that point, Jungkook begins to kick off his shorts without pulling away.

"Fuck, I've always wanted to fuck you," you moan in between words, "you always look so good everywhere you go."

"Yeah?" Jungkook chuckles, "did you imagine fucking me before you got hired here?"

You nod, "I couldn't help it, I knew you'd be good."

As Jungkook manages to get his shorts off, he grips ahold of his aching member. Pulling up to his knees, his thumb doesn't stop rubbing harsh circles against your clit.

"That's hot," Jungkook breathes, "I've been wanting to take you since I first saw you."

"Then do it." you demand, and a flip switches in Jungkook's brain.

He pulls his fingers away from you and leans forward, "Taste yourself."

You don't hesitate to take his fingers into your mouth, Jungkook feeling your tongue dance across the pads of his fingers. Feeling himself twitch, he strokes himself for a little bit of relief while you suck.

"Taste good?" He questions.

"Delicious."

"Good girl." He murmurs, leaning down and connecting your lips with his again. As he does so, he runs the head of his cock against your slit, enjoying the gasp you let out every time he brushes against your clit. You feel so warm, so inviting. He can taste you so well, he wants nothing more than to dive in.

So he does.

Pressing into you slowly, he feels your warmth envelope him. Your legs wrap around his hips and guide him in all the way. When he slips all the way in, you both pull away for a moan.

"So fucking good. So tight." He moves his hips achingly slow, enjoying the noises of content leaving your lips. Your moans spur him on as your tightness engulfs him yet again. He leans down and presses a kiss to your neck, your hot skin nearly burning his lips, "I don't want to hurt you."

You shake your head, "You can't hurt me. I promise."

Jungkook isn't sure what takes over him at this point, but he feels his lips begin to thrust harshly into you. He doesn't process the rest of the world, the only thing that's certain is you. You're everything that he needs to focus on now, your whines, your moans, the feeling of your legs guiding him in and out of you. He wants to take you here over and over again until the end of time, and he's never felt that about anyone before in his life.

Your lips are beginning to bruise from the rough kisses he's been laying on you, so he takes a gentle approach and sucks on your jawline. Every few thrusts, he rests his forehead against yours. Then he moves again. Then rests.

"Tell me how good I feel." you whisper against his lips, breathy.

"Baby," Jungkook's brows knit together in pleasure, "you feel so good around me. So warm. I want to cum in you and fill you up so bad. Do-n't stop squeezing- fuck."

Jungkook abandons the pace he tried to keep and slams into you, pulling you on top of him and lifting you up and down on his cock. You let out a scream as he reaches a point he hasn't touched before, your cunt tightening exponentially around him.

He latches his mouth onto your nipples, the sensitive peaks hardening against his tongue. Your nails rake down his chest while you grind against him, your ass smacking against his thighs while he begins thrusting upward.

His hands grip your hips harshly, sure enough to leave bruises by his fingertips. He feels his orgasm approaching quickly, but he needs you to cum first. He need to feel you cum around him. "Fuck," he growls through clenched teeth, "cum. I need you to cum. Cum around me, please please please!"

"I'm gonna- I'm-" your sentence is cut off by your orgasm taking over, clenching deliciously around Jungkook and pushing him over the edge. His hips stutter and he releases into you, your warmth mixing with his as he collapses onto the ground. You're both silent for a while, your chests heaving as you try to calm down. Jungkook leans up, keeping you in a hug as your knees move to either side of his hips. Neither of you make a move to pull apart, Jungkook softening inside of you but the sensitivity feels so good.

He rests his chin on your shoulder, glancing behind you and towards the mirrors. On the inner edge of each of your shoulder blades, lay two large scars. They're old, pink in color now. Jungkook reaches a finger up to trace the scars but is stopped by a knock on the door.

"Hey, I'm ready when you are _____!" Jimin's voice sounds through the gym, muffled by the door.

"Shit." You whisper, "shit, shit, shit!"

You quickly pull off of him, beginning to slip your panties and bra back on.

Jungkook flinches at the sudden loss of warmth around him, looking down at his cock and seeing a mixture of his and your cum coating his thighs. "Don't you need to clean up?" he whispers.

"I'll stop by the bathroom on the way." you murmur, now fully dressed, "thank you for that, by the way." you wink, grabbing the back of his neck and pressing a hard kiss against him. Then, you're out the door.

Jungkook is left naked on the floor, confused, and wanting to ask why exactly you have asymmetrical scars on your back.

[madamedevien]

Infernal Heat

Hey! It’s been a while - I really miss you guys.  Anyway, I know that a lot of you were keeping up to date with my Mammon x GN! Reader fic...while I’m updating it regularly on my AO3, I thought that I’d post the chapters that I’ve got here as well. I’m planning for it to be a 4 chapter fic, but let’s see how that goes! Warnings in tags (both here and AO3) - monster fucking comes into play much more come Chapter 3 and 4. The biggest thanks to @mawwart for their inspiration and @popcherrypop for reading over what I had all those months ago and actually helping me find direction. I’ve got a bigger/cheesier spiel on AO3, but anyway. Fingers crossed that the ‘Keep Reading’ line shows up here...

Chapter 1: Embers

The Great Mammon had woken up in a mood. He'd felt this creeping up for days now and he wished that it would just come and go already. It was hella distracting to have a constant tug of warmth and want in your gut, y'know? And it was annoying to feel the incessant need to primp and to add to the nest of pillows, blankets, sentimental and decorative items that now overtook most of his bed. But he was due a heat cycle. Annoyingly, he felt that it was probably going to settle in properly on that particular day and he'd been wrangled into going shopping by you. And for whatever reason he'd agreed. Not because he had a crush on you or anything. Damn, he couldn't even remember what you two were meant to be shopping for, that's how addled his mind was. Mammon really just wanted to stay put and perfect his nest. Maybe show it off to you. Although he wasn't sure if you'd appreciate the fact that he'd stolen a few items of yours while on laundry duty to tuck into said nest. Or that he wanted to maybe do something kind of nasty to a piece of your clothing. If not you. 

But would you want to? To see his nest? To lay in it, lay with him, to mate with him? He wanted you to. So very, very badly. He didn’t feel like he deserved you but, oh, to say that he wanted you was a vast understatement. Fuck. 

He groaned and threw one of his tanned arms over his eyes. The silveret realised that he was going to have to partially dislodge his beautiful nest to pull out Goldie (he couldn't go shopping without her - the very thought was offensive!) and that he was going to have to get rid of his raging boner before he faced you. 

So into a cold shower he trudged, loudly cursing the whole time.

---

Longest shopping trip in fucking history. 

It seemed like you were in need of freakin' everything imaginable. He wasn't to know that you were actually just taking your time because it'd been a while since the two of you had some time to yourselves. The demon had been acting strangely around you the past few days, although he was completely oblivious to just how weird it’d been for you.

And today, the Avatar of Greed just wasn't engaging. Questions went unanswered, as if he hadn't heard even when clearly looking at you, no boasting or sulking occurred, no bets or harebrained schemes hatched...he didn't even take you up on your offer of Hell Sauce Noodles! The demon was completely disinterested in all of this - the only thing he was interested in was you. He was also trying very very hard not to let his thoughts slip into anything inappropriate. Which was probably the single most difficult thing he’d had to do in all of his many years. Mammon wanted to take your hand and lace your fingers together; to shamelessly nuzzle your cheek in front of everyone on Silent Avenue. The thought made his heart swell. Better yet, if you were mated, he could kiss you in front of the whole crowd before publicly mounting you and-

Damn, it was hard to keep lewd thoughts at bay. He could feel his cheeks burning and looked away when your concerned expression turned to him. 

On the trek home (finally!), he fell into a lazy pace behind you and Mammon couldn’t help it as you walked together. His cerulean gaze raked over the beautiful curve in your neck - the space was perfect. In his mind, he could see how perfectly his head would fit and how the mark he could leave there would only accentuate the beauty of your skin. It’d be a gorgeous brand that would loudly proclaim to all, ‘I am mated to THE Great Mammon, the Avatar of Greed and Second of the Seven; don’t you dare even think to touch me’. The very notion only caused the flush of heat over his skin to worsen and his breath to hitch; he wanted to tear into his flesh to relieve himself of the insufferable and fiery itch.

The same thoughts washed over his brain again and again like some cruel tide, even once you'd passed through the doors of the House of Lamentation.

It took only a scant moment. He didn’t even think. The silver haired demon was aware that he was losing his mind due to his damned biology, but he didn’t realise that he was so far gone that he would do something so stupid. It was only your screech that alerted him to the fact that he had pulled you tight to his chest, that he was actually in the process of sinking sharp fangs into your supple skin. The sudden realisation made him tear off of you in surprise. 

Beel had been the first to burst through a doorway and into the corridor. The redhead stopped dead in his tracks and stared wide-eyed at the two of you; you with your hand clamped over the section of your neck that had been bitten, and Mammon an arm’s length away from with a look of abject horror painted over his handsome features. Stupid Mammon, indeed. The next to burst in was Lucifer, who looked ready for a proper melee. The sound that had come from you had genuinely startled the older brother, not that he’d admit that if asked. As his garnet gaze took in the scene before him, his mouth twisted unpleasantly. “Mammon…” Lucifer’s voice was dangerously low. Mammon shook his head urgently in response, “Nonono, Luci, it didn’t - I mean, yeah, it is what it looks like an’ I didn’t mean ta, but it...it’s not deep enough. Y’know?” The second brother sounded desperate. Mammon anxiously twisted his rings around his tanned fingers and had to fight back the tears that threatened the edges of his vision. He could have hurt you. “Oh, I think you’ll find that it’s more than deep enough.” Lucifer stalked toward you and put his hand on top of the one you were using to cover your wound. “Let me see how much damage the fool inflicted on you”. Mammon could see the frown that pulled at your mouth as you revealed the bite mark to his brother. No proper damage - the indents might linger, but no blood had been drawn; no skin had been broken. 

“It was more from the surprise than pain, Lucifer. I just wasn’t expecting someone to bite me, you know? That’s the kind of thing that I’d expect more from a very hungry Beel.” Your attempt to lighten the mood only made the Avatar of Pride’s expression sour further - but Beel muttered a small, “Fair”. Lucifer sounded positively glacial when he spoke again. “Beelzebub, please take our brother to his room." The Avatar of Gluttony nodded solemnly, gently taking the second eldest’s shoulder. Mammon stared miserably at the floor, guilt clearly written on his flushed face although he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He didn’t trust himself to. Not after such a stupid stunt. As the other two made their way up the stairs, Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose. 

This wouldn’t be pleasant.

--

It was no surprise to Mammon that Lucifer texted him shortly after the whole ordeal. He was just thankful that Lucifer hadn’t decided to come up to his room and literally tear into him after biting you. Of all the people to bite in the entire Devildom, it just had to be you didn’t it? Lucifer: Mammon. I have strictly instructed the household that you are not to be disturbed until I have given the all clear. You will stay in your room and I will bring you provisions at regular intervals. If you need anything, you will let me know. Are we clear? Mammon: Yes. Lucifer: Good. He waited, hopeful that Lucifer would provide an update on you. After an eon of waiting (which was actually all of seven minutes) he decided to ask. Mammon: Are they okay?

Lucifer: They are. And they will continue to be so long as you stay in your room and do not venture out. Ensure that you lock your door and remember to take your pheromone blockers as well or the whole house will reek of your mating scent. What were brothers for, if not a good motivational speech? --- Chapter 2: Flames Even with Lucifer’s reminder, Mammon had forgotten to take the pheromone blockers and to lock the door. He’d been far too distracted; worrying about your state of health, whether he’d damaged your relationship beyond repair, still trying to keep the lewd thoughts at bay, his instincts fretting over the piece of nest that had been dismantled earlier… It was a lot to be preoccupied with, okay? Without the pheromone blockers, the corridor outside of Mammon’s room was thick with the sweet perfume of a demonic male in heat. It was rich and cloying, the kind of scent that would cling to one’s clothes much to the annoyance of the other residents (Asmodeus excluded).  Mammon, however, didn’t care. He was too busy now attempting to cool the heat in the pit of his stomach and to regain some clarity of mind. An attempt at sleep had been made once his nest had been repaired and Goldie tucked into her rightful place, the lights turned down low and his clothes discarded to some far corner so that he could crawl into the nest in a comfortable state...but how could he sleep when obscene images of you kept popping into his head?  At first, he had tried to keep some semblance of his mind. The demon didn’t like to lose control during his heats. If he could keep his mind, he would keep to his more humanoid forms - and that was what he wanted. Because if you did, by chance, happen upon him...well. He didn’t want to scare you. Before he allowed himself to spiral into the anxiety of your imagined reaction, he reached for his ridiculously large bottle of lube. If he was going to dwell on the thought of anything, it was going to be how good he knew you’d feel… --- Mammon wouldn’t have been able to say how much time had passed. He had brought himself to orgasm more times than he could count - but it only seemed to just take off the edge. A demon’s heat was never an easy thing, but why was this time around so damn difficult?  Satan would have been able to answer that with ease, the smug bastard; if a demon chooses a mate they will, naturally, be most inclined to couple with said mate for optimal breeding. To not couple with a chosen mate could make a heat worse - but to withhold coupling at all? Well, it would be a foolish endeavour.  The Avatar of Greed hadn’t realised just how he was slipping ; wings and horns had appeared without him even registering and his fangs had dropped to a predatory length (which he only noticed when he had apparently attempted to put a mating mark on a pillow covered in one of your stolen shirts that he’d been desperately rutting against, much to his embarrassment).  His breathing was rough. Mammon was equal parts exhausted and invigorated. He wanted nothing more than to let his knees fall out from under him so that sleep would hopefully take him - he wanted to stalk down the hall and into your room and fuck you senseless. And if Lucifer found out? Well, Mammon would love to see him try to pry you from his arms.  The very thought made him snarl, his grip on his cock tightening. It was enraging to even think that his brother would dare, a thought that had him so preoccupied that he didn’t hear the door click open.  His blue eyes slipped over to you and the wet sound of him furiously fucking his fist stopped abruptly. It was impossible to tell which one of you was redder. This was not what he had been expecting. “Uh-” A rasp of your name interrupted you. “Didn’t Lucifer tell you not to come?” He watched as you nodded dumbly, “Yes”. Heavy breath was the only noise to pass between you several beats. The demon in front of you was wondering whether this was fate; you weren’t running, you looked interested and, fuck, you smelled so good. You smelled aroused and it made him growl; “C’mere then”. The way that you slammed the door and scampered toward him practically had him preening in pleasure. Just as eager, Mammon scrambled over to meet you, flustered yet excited, and hauled you up close to him. He bumped your foreheads together. From here it was easy to see how incredibly blown his pupils were, to feel how desperately ragged his breathing was. You were dangerously close. “Now, see here, I'm gonna give ya one chance to go. ‘Cause if I kiss ya, I’m not gonna be able to stop. I won’t be able to let ya go. You’ll be stuck with me for the whole fuckin’ ride, ya hear?” Holy shit, his voice was so strained. “Then kiss me, you dummy.” No repeat was necessary. Mammon threaded his fingers into your hair, hesitating for only the briefest moment before pressing his lips to yours. When you responded in kind his fervour, his deep rooted greed, quickly followed. He’d wanted to kiss you from day one and not a moment had gone by since  without him imagining it. This felt so incredibly right. But he couldn’t ignore the heat curling in his gut. He needed you, wanted you. And as far as he could tell, despite the dark whispers in the back of his mind saying otherwise, you seemed to feel the same.The way that you returned his greedy kisses, how your fingers had twisted sharply in his hair, how you didn’t seem to mind the messy clicking of his elongated fangs against your blunt teeth as he tried to figure out how best to navigate your mouth in this form - how could he deny that he was wanted?  Mammon's only regret when looking back on this evening with you would be not savouring your body laid bare for him for the first time. His mind was too heat-addled to appreciate it; he was unable to slowly peel off your layers and to have the sentiment returned in kind as he had previously fantasised about. In his mind’s eye, he had a whole big romantic gesture planned if you had decided to sleep with him. Previously, he had imagined how he would make love to you and treasure every moment of it...but alas… Your clothes were quickly stripped from you, sharp fangs nipping at new skin as it was exposed. There was no delicate treatment here and he paid no heed to the sound of torn material. When he next plundered your mouth, it was far smoother than the first time - he was a fast learner, after all.  The only complaint that he had about kissing you was that it muffled those beautiful noises of yours. When he broke the seal of your mouths it was to gently toss you back toward the top of the bed, deeper into his nest and into the comfort of a ridiculous amount of pillows - to properly secure you into his nest. To see you like that felt...good. It felt right. It was clear that was exactly where you belonged. The very image had him growling in satisfaction as he took the opportunity to crawl over your body, his fingers gripping at the meat of your thighs and hips as if ensuring that you were truly there with him. Thankfully, his nails had not yet turned into talons or they would have pierced through you with ease at the way that he handled your flesh.  Mammon had to take a deep breath when he looked at you this time. He needed to make sure that he didn’t hurt you while doing this - it was the last thing in the world that he wanted. It was unusual for the Avatar of Greed to put the needs of others before his own...but you weren’t just some ‘other’. You were you. His very own treasure, his very own mate. Reluctantly, a hand left your body to fish for something buried within the nest. “You’re fuckin’ gorgeous,” He coated his fingers generously in lube, desperate to ensure that he would cause as little pain as possible, “Just fuckin’ perfect”. Two fingers slipped into you as Mammon spoke, his tone low and hoarse. Never had he imagined just how difficult it would be to hold himself back like this, nor could he have been prepared for just how much desire he felt in that moment. The sensation of your hot core wrapped around his fingers had him shamelessly rutting against your thigh, a poor attempt at taking the edge off of his lust.  A human really had no business wrecking him like this. His heat cycles were normally pretty boring - desperate rutting for a day or two and then back to normal life. You had no right to set his skin aflame like this, no right to have him feel like he could cum just from the noise you made once he had three fingers fucking into your heat. The way his blood was rushing in his ears was deafening...and he wanted more. It didn’t take too long for it all to get too much. Even all of the dark hickies that he had furiously littered your neck, chest and shoulders with weren’t enough to distract him from the wet sound of his fingers preparing you or the stunning sounds he managed to pull from you when he got the angle of his hand just right.  Mammon would never admit it, but he kind of missed his target. The point of removing his hand from you had been to slip himself right in. Instead, as he kissed you he rolled his slick cock against your sex...which, to be fair, had felt better than your thigh. And if the sound that you’d made in response was anything to go by, you thought so too.  He liked that noise. A lot. So he rolled his hips against you again, groaning in response to you. Ever eager to please, the greedy demon found a rhythm that you both seemed to enjoy in the interim. “Ya like that, huh?” Mammon wasn’t sure where the cockiness in his tone was coming from when internally he felt so nervous. It was those very nerves that quickly had his hand moving to guide his cock to your entrance and thrusting into you before you could retort. Mammon didn’t realise it would silence both of you.  By no means was he a virgin. The Great Mammon would have it known that he was a proper Casanova type, thank you very much. He just didn’t realise how different it would feel coupling with someone that he truly and deeply loved. The heat causing that deep need to breed the closest thing with a pulse didn’t help things, of course.  It was...incredible, for lack of a better word. Divine. Mammon choked on an Infernal curse once seated completely in you and had to literally bite his tongue to keep an anchor on his self-control.  All of that hard earned control was thrown out the window when his name passed your lips.  There was no hesitation in how his hips pistoned, fucking into you relentlessly. His hands manoeuvred to cradle the back of your knees and he pushed your legs back to allow him more access to your body, his fingers gripping hard enough to bruise. The noises that left him were snaps and snarls of Infernal praise, not that he realised. The only thought on Mammon’s mind was his primal objective of breeding you until neither of you could move ; it didn’t matter whether you could actually fall pregnant or not. No logic or worry clouded his mind with these thoughts. All he could focus on was filling you with his seed until he couldn’t any more, the thought of your stomach tender and round because of his affections toward his mate... Mammon’s first orgasm came with an embarrassing quickness. When he spilled inside of you, his teeth sinking into the tender flesh of your chest, he was quickly filled with a relief and warmth that he hadn’t felt in ages. For the first time since his heat had set in, there was true clarity in his mind. While his natural instincts weren’t completely quelled, it was enough for him to actually think with something other than his adamantly pulsing dick. His relief quickly fell to mortification, the shadows of which were clear on his features when he pulled back to look at you. His cheeks were tinted red both from exertion and embarrassment ; he hadn’t paid enough attention to get you to climax. He was quick to stutter out your name, mouth tripping on the words that were trying to get out of his mouth as his sluggishly content brain tried to supply words just beyond reach. “What, isn’t The Great Mammon going to make me cum?” Your sass fanned the flames in his loins. A playful snarl was made in response, “Oh sweetheart. I’m going to make you cum so fuckin’ hard you black out. You won’t be able to feel your legs by the time I’m done with you”. And so The Great Mammon set to work. --- Mammon hummed contentedly as you lazily played with the hair at the nape of his neck hours later. This was perfection. Strong fingers stroked your thighs as he enjoyed the sensation of you wrapped around his hips, the pleasure of you sat on his lap while cuddled up together in your nest. The demon toyed with the thought of pushing his hips up just to make you gasp from the overstimulation, but decided against it. Although he was loath to admit it, you needed rest - because Mammon had been good to his word, ensuring that you both had more than your fair share of orgasms.  But this was good. The fire in his gut had died down to crackling embers, although he knew it would flare up again soon - but you would be there to help ease him through it. And you even seemed to like helping him out. What was the phrase… ‘mutually beneficial’? Somethin’ like that. His eyes fluttered open when he heard your chuckle. He couldn’t help but wonder if you knew how freakin’ stunning you were when you smiled like that. “What?” When your eyes met his, he was pouting frowning. The laugh that you let out only made his brow furrow more, “I said what. What’s got ya laughin’ like that, huh? You should be out like a freakin’ light by now”. It wasn’t until you replied that he realised how obvious it was, “I didn’t know that demons could purr”. Mammon squawked loudly and attempted to divert your attention - he sounded like a damn motor! It wasn’t fair! He wasn’t even able to control the way he was going off… It was embarrassing. “Well, yeah, y’know, sometimes. We’re incredible ‘n mysterious creatures us demons, y’know! Demons are capable of things that your human mind couldn’t even comprehend! Anyway, ’s not like ’s all the time or anythin’ like that…” He tried to occupy himself and forget about the heat radiating from his face by playing with your hair - but he could feel you smiling against the crook of his neck. “Yeah?” “Yeah.” The incredible and mysterious demon sounded more like a petulant child (well, a purring and petulant child). “So, when do you normally purr?” “I dunno. When we’re happy, I guess?” “Does that mean I haven’t made you happy before?” The way that he spluttered was definitely worth teasing him. “Who said that ya haven’t made me happy?! ‘N besides, this is different!” Even Mammon couldn’t deny that he was now pouting, but he tried to focus on the feeling of your fingers running along his shoulders. It was nice; soothing, even. Until he felt a sharp tug on the back of his neck.  “Ouch! You gotta be more gentle than that!” The look of surprise on your face made him want to curl in on himself. “Mammon - are those feathers?” “Phffft,” The greedy demon rolled his eyes and tried to deflect your query, “Shaddap. You dunno what you’re talking ‘bout”.  When your mouth opened again, he did take the opportunity to thrust sharply into you. At the gasp, he lurched forward with a passionate kiss. Simply to shut you up, of course. No hidden agenda. His pleased purring melted into a deep rumbling, the fire in his belly stoking itself back to life. It was impossible for him not to roll you over to allow him to bask in more of your shared passion. The laughter that ensued, laughter that he was sure was aimed at him, only made his heart swell as much as his cock.

[eclipsedpascal]

You Deserve This

Andy Dolan x Female Reader

GIF by @kissxmedeadly !!

“The reader asking Andy about his kiddo (let's pretend is a lil boy 🤣) and him being very emotional about it and the reader who truly loves him conforts him 😭❤️” - anon

Please read the warnings!!

Warnings: use of drugs (weed), smut, oral (female receiving), slight public sex, slight angst, mentions of rehab, mentions of suicidal thoughts, a lil bit of crying and VERY slight Eden spoilers, but thats only if you don't want to know anything AT ALL, so basically none? idk lmao:)

Notes: hi! So this is my first Andy fic, I wrote it very quickly last night after a sudden burst of inspiration and it doesn't make too much sense, also it’s kinda cheesy? I don't think I've ever written anything this angsty or soft before, but i’m trying to be more in touch w my emotions nd this is my way of doing that, so hopefully i'll do more things like this soon:) also if you’re interested, the title is one of my favourite songs by Men I Trust that I just thought fit Andy well.

Word count: 1.8k

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The warm, dancing breeze washed over your skin, plucking up your many goosebumps and blowing the rainbow coloured sea of petals that decorated the large garden from left to right. The bittersweet mix of their fragrances and Andy’s blunt rushed to you and filled your scrunched up, wrinkled nose as you let out a loud laugh. The vibrant expanse of fluffy grass felt close to a mattress underneath you, cradling your form whilst you laid amongst the greenery and watched Andy ghost a deep inhale of the blunt he had balanced precariously between two fingers. He flopped his arm across the gap between you and offered you another toke, the dopey smile spread over his features making you laugh even more.

“What’s so funny? Hmm?” He questioned you jokingly, rolling onto his forearms and bringing his face to hover just above yours as you brought the blunt to your lips. You couldn't hold in your laughter, your drug hazed state and the breeze that pushed his brown curls to tickle your blushing skin only exaggerating your amusement further as you choked out clouds of smoke.

“What??” He joined in laughing, finding humour in his own confusion and finding your laugh infectious. His lips found your own in a sudden yet gentle kiss which you gladly embraced, still not managing to fully compose yourself as you giggled into his open mouth.

You did your best to pull back from the kiss, but were reminded you didn't really have anywhere to go when you felt a blade of grass flutter against your ear. “It’s just.. your smile.” You rested your blunt carrying hand on his cheek as you spoke, feeling your heart swell when he pulled an overdramatic expression of insult at your reply.

“What’s so wrong with my smile?!” He half faked offence, not understanding what you could possibly find so amusing about it as you giggled more and more. “What’s wrong with it?- is it my lips? ‘They not good enough for you baby?” His thick accent aided his voice, making him sound even more attractive than he already was as he joked with you.

“Noo! it definitely wasn’t your lips, cause I love those.” You gripped his locks a little firmer, biting your lip as his stare changed from one of curiosity to one of want.

“Oh yeah?” He leaned back down and kissed you again, but this time rougher, the weed made you feel as if his lips were slowly melting into your own as it sent strong signals of lust through your body. He put all his weight on one arm, lifting the other and groping your waist with it whilst simultaneously moving to trail wet kisses down your neck.

His touches were deep, yet executed so delicately it convinced you if he was any rougher, you might just break. He opened the buttons of the flowing shirt you wore; one you had stolen out of his wardrobe that morning. He moved his head further down your chest to your stomach, mouth racing in slow motion to reach you were he wanted to most.

Forgetting to explain why you found his smile so funny in the first place, your high carried your thoughts closer towards how incredible his mouth felt on your skin, making you lean into his touch and let out a few small mewls.

As he reached your panty line, he tapped your hip, signalling for you to lift them so he could take your shorts off. He slid them off your legs in a quick, smooth motion that had them landing on a nearby lavender bush. The garden had quite a large variety of blossoming shrubbery and many clusters of beautiful flowers, it was probably down to the bi-weekly gardeners Andy had hired. You had known they were expensive and after spending so much time like this, lazing around, surrounded by the expensive home’s nature, you were beginning to understand why he had hired them.

You returned your gaze from the dangling shorts, back to the man nestled between your bare thighs. His beard was scratching at your skin in the best way possible as he laid small kisses over the thin fabric that covered your cunt. His hot breathe felt like fire as you wriggled and squirmed below him, just wanting some kind of contact from him.

He used two fingers to peel your panties to the side, groaning at the site of your glistening folds before kissing your clit gently. His tongue started swiping across your cunt slowly, taking all the time in the world to make you feel as good as he knew he could. You moaned loudly, grabbing at his hair once more as he sucked on you deeply.

“Mr Dolan?” You were interrupted by a throat clearing before hearing a man speak; one of Andy’s many servants you guessed. They had never seemed to leave the two of you alone whilst you had been staying there. No matter how big his home was, you always seemed to find another at every corner.

Andy looked up to the man with question and annoyance, raising an eyebrow at him as he wished for him to just hurry up and leave so the two of you could continue with your escapades. “It’s the phone for you Mr Dolan. Your son.”

Andy quickly rose from his place below you, his mind abandoning all thought of the act he was just partaking in as he jogged past the glass doors of his home, wanting only to speak to the young boy.

You sat up slightly, doing up a few buttons of your shirt and laying your crossed legs to the side of you as you held yourself up with your arm. You watched him as he scrambled into the house after his servant, little red marks from where he had been lying in the grass next to you were noticeably imprinted on the skin of his left arm, the one he had been leaning on, and his open shirt was flowing behind him with the speed he was moving.

You looked down to the flowers on front of you, picking a single daisy that bore tinted, pink tips on the end of each slim, white petal, twirling the stem around between two of your fingers as you listened to the breeze pick up. You could feel the mood of the air change as he left, the wind feeling more cold an irritating than once before as you pondered the call Andy was having.

You knew how desperate he had been to speak to his son again. It had been months since he had spoken to him without his ex-wife being the messenger. He missed him more than he knew to describe.

His recent divorce had been what had fuelled him to return home to Eden; hoping to find solace in the paradise he knew so well after feeling as if he had lost himself entirely. Spending too many years constantly playing other people had taken more of a toll on him than he had realised, that was until he was sent to rehab. After getting out, he felt as if staying in Eden was the only way for him to climb out of the dark hole he had managed to find himself in. Unfortunately, this journey of finding himself had meant making the decision to leave his son behind in Los Angles. Something he didn't like to speak on much.

When you had first met him in rehab however, he had been extremely open about his life, telling you how anger was the only emotion he could really feel anymore. Explaining that if he wasn’t at least the slightest amount intoxicated, he didn't think he couldn't go on with living; especially after the recent downfall of his career being showcased for the entire world to see. It was dark stuff, but you understood each other. That’s a big part of what made you grow so close.

You picked off petal after petal from the daisy, watching its beauty fade with each pluck and letting each one slowly blow into the breeze, creating a tragic stream as they blew away from you and down to the not so far off shoreline. As you plucked the last petal, you admired the daisy, still glowing with pollen and beaming in the sunlight despite have lost so many important parts of it. You stuck it into your shirt pocket and fell back down to lay on the grass as you waited for Andy to finish his call.

It had been maybe ten minutes you were lying with your eyes closed, enjoying the heat that beamed down from the clear, Australian sky when you finally heard the slow footsteps that you knew to be Andy’s, pattering along the grass. You shot up from where you lay to see the dopey-smiled man who had left you in the garden just fifteen minutes before, only to be faced with a red-eyed, teary one.

“Andy what happened? Are you okay?” He fell down onto the grass besides you, staring at you but completely wordless. You felt as if you could see into his soul. He was feeling so many emotions he hadn’t even been able to grasp at in so long. It was overwhelming him and you knew it. You reached out to stroke is cheek, concern running through you for the man that you had grown to love so dearly over the past few months.

He looked up “She’s gonna let me see him. T-They’re coming over next month.” A tear fell from his face as he smiled harder than you had ever seen him smile before. He was finally going to see his son after all these long months and you couldn’t have been any happier for him.

“Really?! That’s amazing, oh my god!” You moved forwards, wrapping your arms over his large shoulders and squeezing him in a hug so full of love it was palpable. “You really got to speak to him this time?” You questioned him once more before pulling away from his grasp, thinking back to the many times his ex-wife had promised he could speak with the boy but decided at the last minute he wouldn’t get to.

“Yeah!.. he uhh,” He took in a shaky breath, chuckling with joy as he recalled hearing the young boy’s voice so filled with excitement and energy over the phone. “He said he couldn't wait to meet you! You know, when I told him about you.” He stumbled over his words, running a hand through his hair as he shook with nerves, doing his best to calm himself.

In that moment, you felt your love for him soar higher than it ever had before. You were so proud of the progress he had made, and you knew his son would be too. “And I cant wait to meet him either.” You rested your forehead against his, the two of you enjoying a stand still and bathing in the happiness you both felt in the beautiful moment. The sound of the ever present breeze occupied your ears as the laughter emitting from two of you joined it, echoing a song throughout the garden that wouldn’t be forgotten any time soon.

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Thank you sm for reading!!🥺💗

Tags: @celestialrequiem @ntxoza @dark-mei-rose @sojournmichael @blakescoven @ritualmichael @ghostangels @fernfiction @ferndolan @brattylovee @7-wonders @angelicmichael @melodylangdon @brooklinn13 @kitty4860 @lavenderahs @michaellangdonstanaccount @9layerdevilfoodcake @chicaluna2410 @plymptxn-reborn I've just tagged anyone who I thought might be interested as per usual, but if you would to be removed feel free to let me know!! you can also lemme know if you would like to be added to the tag list too:)

[sofreddie]

Nanny No More

Summary: Reader is The Ackles' nanny. She comes home to quite the surprise. It changes everything.

Characters: Jensen x Nanny!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Smut

Word Count: 1,816

A/N: Written for @jerkbitchidjitassbutt. Thanks for the inspiration! GIF above is closest I could find to match the story, though it's not a shower really. 😉 And just in case - this is a work of fiction. No harm or hate intended towards any persons.

Y/N had just returned from dropping the kids off at a sleepover. She was their live-in nanny and had been for years since Jensen's wife had passed giving birth. Jensen was home on hiatus and his restlessness was driving everyone up the walls.

Her attention was drawn to the other room as she heard Jensen muttering and grunting. She curiously moved forward, worried for what she might find, only to be stopped dead in her tracks.

For one thing, there was a terrible leak in the ceiling. A pipe must have burst. But that wasn't what caught and held her attention.

Jensen was stood on a footstool, arms stretched above him as he was attempting to repair the leak. His t-shirt rode up, exposing a bit of his stomach and buckled jeans. His t-shirt clung to him like a second skin, the water leaking from the pipe having gradually soaked through his clothing.

He lowered his arms, grunting in frustration. He quickly removed the soaked t-shirt, using it to wipe off his face, before tossing it aside and getting back to work.

Y/N's jaw dropped open as she watched the muscles in his arms and back flexing and glistening. She reflexively squeezed her thighs together, feeling a sudden, overwhelming swell of desire.

She'd always found him attractive. She'd be blind not to. But even though she had lived with him for so long, it was like a respectful roommate sort of situation. She was the nanny after all.

Seeing him like this…well, this was new.

Suddenly, bits of the ceiling fell down upon Jensen as the hole opened wider, more water spilling forth in a gush. Jensen was drenched head-to-toe. He managed to reach up and find the shut off, stopping the flood of water, albeit a bit late.

He looked like he just got out of the shower, jeans and all. He was literally dripping with water, strands of his hair hanging down into his face. He huffed before finally noticing Y/N standing there.

"Oh, hey," he smiled, that charming and bright smile that was now making her flutter, "Sorry about the mess," he laughed, gesturing around himself.

She still couldn't move, couldn't speak. Her eyes were trailing over every inch of him as she bit her lip, squeezing her thighs once more, tighter than before.

Jensen's eyes shot over her movements, catching her wandering gaze, her bitten lips, and the not-so-subtle neediness she was emanating. He wasn't a fool. He knew exactly what she was thinking.

He'd been thinking about this very thing for a while now. Jared had encouraged him. But Y/N was a good friend and the nanny and she never showed an interest in all the time she had been with them.

He wasn't about to let this opportunity slip.

He took several slow steps towards her, his eyes trained on hers, "See something you like?" he teased. Her breath hitched. The tension between them filled the room. She wanted to jump his bones right then and there. When he licked that plump bottom lip of his into his mouth she just about sprung on him.

Then she remembered why she hadn't let herself do anything before. She was the nanny. If things went wrong...she loved the kids and didn't want to see them hurt or confused. In the end, she chickened out.

"Y-you should probably go shower," she cleared her throat, breaking the gaze between them and gesturing with her thumb over her shoulder as she took slow retreating steps, "I'll go call a plumber."

She turned and dashed so quick. Jensen was cursing himself under his breath. He knew she wanted him. There was no question about that now. But something was holding her back.

He took himself upstairs to shower. He stripped out of the remaining wet clothes and dropped them in a heap to the floor with a squelch. The hot water soothed his aching muscles and washed away the grime.

It wasn't long before his mind wandered back to Y/N downstairs, staring at him hungrily, clenching her thighs. Gen had told him to ask her out on a date, Jared said just go for it. But her body and reaction was making it hard to think straight.

His hand wandered down his body, wrapping around his fully erect cock. He sighed a little in relief at the pressure, before he began stroking himself. This had become routine at this point, jerking off in the shower with Y/N's image in his mind and her name on his lips.

After he came, he quickly finished his shower, feeling less tense than before. He was formulating a way to ask her out and gauge her interest as he made his way back downstairs.

Much like Y/N earlier, he was stopped in his tracks. Y/N was bent over on the floor, her ass in the air as she cleaned up the mess on the floor. He was instantly hard again, as if the shower never even happened.

A groan punched past his lips, catching her attention. She looked over her shoulder at him, smiling sweetly, before rising from her spot on the floor, tossing away some of the mess.

She's a little dirty and her clothes are a little damp in spots, but he's wound so tight and he thinks she only looks even better. He'd love to help her out of those filthy clothes. Maybe with his teeth.

"Can I kiss you?" he suddenly blurted out as he took several steps to stand directly in front of her. He hadn't meant to say it, but in that moment it was all he could think or want.

All his plans flew out the window.

His eyes looked her over fondly as he brushed the hair back from her face, "Can I kiss you?" he asked again. She stood in dumbfounded silence, heart racing. She tried to speak but her throat was closed. Instead, she nodded minutely. He smirked slightly before leaning in pressing his lips to hers.

He instantly felt fireworks explode between them, like nothing he had ever felt before. He tugged her closer to him, his hands finding her lower back. She too was feeling the intensity, swooning under his command.

Everything began to work up quickly, their bodies demanding more from each other. Jensen turned and backed her against the closest wall. His knee found its way between her legs, his thigh pressing against her core.

She moaned loudly into the kiss and Jensen eagerly swallowed it down. Their bodies ground together, their kisses and hands growing desperate. It had been ages since either one of them had been with someone.

"I want you," he breathed out against her lips, barely parting from her and hating even the minute distance required to speak, "Want you in my bed. Wanted you there forever," his lips grazed down her jaw and neck as he pressed himself tightly against her.

"Yes," she hissed out in a breath. He moaned loudly, before scooping her up, wrapping her legs around his waist. He dashed up the stairs with her in his arms, surprising her with his strength.

His muscles were more than just show.

He took her directly to his bedroom, closing the door shut behind them. He didn't let her down until they were standing at the foot of his bed.

"You sure this is what you want?" he checked with her again. He had to be sure. If she didn't want this, or might regret it later, then he'd rather not do it.

"Are you?" she blurts out hesitantly.

He grinned broadly, his eyes sparkling, "If I could have it my way, you'd never leave my bed again."

She crashed into him, stealing his breath with her kisses. The urgency picked up once more and they were quickly naked and lying on the bed together.

Then his words truly settled in her mind. Her breath hitched as she met his eyes. Without words he could feel things shift between them. Everything slowed as the mood shifted.

She could feel his passion and want with every kiss laid to her bare skin. She could feel him laying claim with every moan she gave to every mark he left.

When his head sank between her legs, she thought she'd died and gone to Heaven. It took him no time at all to quickly learn her spots and he proceeded to slowly work her into a frenzy.

Just as she was about to reach her peak, he stopped. She groaned and looked down at him. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. His lips were swollen and wet, his hair a mess from her fingers tugging on it.

"Wanna feel it the first time I make you come," he breathed out, working his way up her body. At some point he had slipped a condom on. She was too out of her mind to have noticed. He ground himself against her wet and twitching folds and she nearly screamed.

"Please, Jen, please," she nearly sobbed, desperate for her release, desperate for him. She had dreamed of this moment for so long. Her want and desire had morphed into utter need.

He locked away the sounds of her sweet pleading for another time. He was ready to give her what she needed. What they both needed.

He kissed her deep, letting her taste herself on his tongue as he slowly entered her. When he finally reached the hilt, pressed as deep as he could go, they both gasped.

Jensen moved slow and languidly, making them both savor every movement, every touch, every thrust like a fine meal. There was nothing but pleasure, but he was skillfully keeping them both back from that edge, drawing out the connection between them.

He paused from his ministrations of marking her neck with his mouth to look her in the eyes. He cupped her face, adjusted his hips, and began to thrust a little faster and harder while holding her gaze.

She could feel herself cresting, the edge just out of reach. Jensen felt amazing inside her, around her. Better than any dream she could have conjured.

She was pretty sure she was in love with him.

At the realization, she climaxed hard. Her eyes clenched shut in sync with her walls clenching around his cock. Jensen cried out her name, following her over the edge.

He continued to pump into her, working them both through their highs. After catching their breath, Jensen slowly pulled out and discarded the condom, before returning to the bed.

He laid on his back and scooped an arm around Y/N's shoulders, bringing her to half lay across him.

Tomorrow they'd deal with the plumber, the mess and the kids returning from their sleepover. They'd figure everything out. But for now, there was this and the start of something amazing.

Forevers:

@sis-tafics

@lyarr24

@calaofnoldor

@hobby27

@spnbaby-67

RPF:

@smoothdogsgirl

JENSEN TAGS:

@akshi8278

@jerkbitchidjitassbutt