#can i get well sooner so i can go back to writing a thousand words a day pretty please 😭

[solivagantingrebel]

I want everyone to know that I expected this thing to be 3k and not have any plot.

AND it's still not done yet.

[auroralwriting]

poker face

spencer reid x fem!bau!reader

spencer and you go to the casino to find the unsub. you think he looks pretty hot playing poker.

word count: 2.0k

warnings: making out, gambling, poker face spencer aghhh

"Forensics got a fingerprint match on the last victim. Eddie Langdon. We're looking into him." You said as you walked back into the office that held some of your team members.

Hotch came in behind you, "Hey, any luck?" Emily asked.

"No, they don't want to allocate agency funds for the buy-in. I'm still working on it." Hotch replied, looking down to his phone as he got back on another call.

Rossi chuckled, "Well, I can't imagine why not. We're only asking for fifty thousand bucks of taxpayer money so that FBI agents can play Texas hold 'em."

Emily eyed Rossi, "Hey, what about you?"

"What about me? What?"

"You could stake us the buy-in." Emily smirked.

Spencer sat down next to you, "Yeah, you're a best-selling author."

You nodded enthusiastically, "Don't forget a best-selling author and longtime FBI agent. You could loan us the money, or something."

"No," Rossi shook his head.

"Why not?" Emily frowned.

"One, it's against regulations, and I'd like to hold on to this job for a little while longer." Rossi began.

Under your breath, you muttered, "It's just a little violation, 's all."

Rossi just rolled his eyes at your comment. "And two, I prefer to spend my money on actual things, like single-malt scotch, a fine cigar, beautiful artwork."

"Poker chips are things!" JJ replied quickly with a smile.

Rossi just scoffed as Spencer spoke up again. "Maybe just think of it as like a new experience. I mean, at your age, how often does that happen?" Oh, no he didn't.

"At my what?" Rossi slowly turned his head to Spencer who just gulped and awkwardly looked away.

"Rossi, this may be our only chance to get this guy." You said slowly. "They government isn't going to give us the money. You're our only way to catch this killer. Please?" You paused for a moment. "And if it helps, you can just write a new book to get some more cha-ching."

Rossi sighed, "All right, fine. But I'm ignoring that last comment. I'm a decent poker player, but I can't promise that I can stay in the game long enough to--"

"You know what?" Emily interrupted. "I bet you're a great poker player, but what if we sent in Reid?"

"I am banned from casinos in Las Vegas, Laughlin, and Parump because of my card-counting ability." Spencer commented as if it was the most casual thing in the whole world.

You raised your hand slightly, "Why did I not know this sooner?"

"Look, I know I'm not a genius like the boy wonder here, but poker is not Blackjack." Rossi argued. "It's about bluffing, reading human nature, head games. It's not math."

That's when Spencer stood up, "That's not entirely accurate. There actually is a mathematical equation for knowing when to raise and when to fold. If P represents the size of the pot at the time of play, then P times N minus one, with N representing the estimated number of players in the final round of betting--"

"Okay! Fine, I surrender!" Rossi cut Spencer off quickly. "Just try not to lose all my money. Actually, you know what?" Rossi quickly spoke your name. "Take her with you, I don't want you losing all my money and if she needs to interrupt the game, then so be it."

Your eyes widened, "Rossi, I've never stepped foot into a casino in my life."

"You'll be fine!" Rossi waved it off as Spencer gave you a comforting look.

Oh, this was not what you expected at all.

Spencer and you had to get checked by security with the handheld metal detectors. Yours didn't go off, but Spencer's did. He played it off as just a pen. Thank god they accepted that.

The two of you walked in. For someone who stared at dead bodies and killers all day, this was the most nerve wracking thing you'd experienced in a while. It also didn't help that Hotch decided you and Spencer were to play a couple when you had such a big crush on him.

"Hey," Spencer muttered, "It's okay."

"Just nervous," You replied under your breath. The two of you made your way to the bar. Spencer got himself a drink, and you got some champagne. "Is it really just math?"

Spencer nodded, "Math, and a little bit of luck."

The moment you felt Spencer take your hand, you tried to pull away. "Spencer, what about germs--"

"I don't mind your germs, you're my friend. Plus, we have a part to play, remember?" Spencer muttered, locking his fingers between yours. Your heart pounded as you did the same.

"I'll observe as you play," You muttered, remembering the list of things you needed to look for to find the unsub. "I know you don't need it, but good luck."

Spencer smiled at you, the comment being just so sweet and innocent. "Thank you." You looked so nervous, so out of place. It made Spencer notice you more.

Spencer had taken a seat at a table, which you stood behind him, leaning over his shoulder. Your hands rested on the back of the chair. So far, no one caught your eye, until one man at another table did. Casually, you poked Spencer and he caught onto your stare.

"You know, would it be all right if I sat at table two instead of four? I have a pre-glaucoma condition and the light's kind of bothering my eyes." Spencer called over the employee, who took him to the desired table.

The men didn't just eye Spencer as he sat down, you noticed they eyed you too. Defensively, you wrapped your arms around Spencer's neck from behind. "Ah, I'm calling." One of the men said."

"I'll raise." One guy said. You stared at him, noticing his red eyes. Weird. "Eight thousand."

"Eight thousand.. That's, uh, fifty-six months wages for the average person in Bangladesh." Spencer commented casually. In reply, you giggled and played with some of hair, pushing it out of his face. Spencer hoped you didn't feel his face turn hot under your fingers. "Uh, kind of makes you think, doesn't it?"

"Hey, it's eight thou to you." One guy remarked. "Now, are you in or are you out?"

Spencer sighed, "I.. am in. And I raise."

"Three raise? That's too rich for my blood." The guy sighed. One man, the one who raised before Spencer, bored holes into him.

"Are you in, sir?" Spencer asked.

"I'll call."

"Call?"

Spencer flipped his cards, "Straight."

Based on everyone's reactions and Spencer's coy face, straight was a very good thing. Playing the act, you kissed Spencer's forehead and squealed lightly, deciding to stroke his cheek for a moment. "A gut shot straight draw? Are you kidding me?"

"That is just-- that is nuts."

It was no wonder Spencer was banned from casinos. Spencer's poker face was good. He simply just covered his mouth after a moment and stared, watching everyone's reactions. His hand slowly ran down to his chin, and in that moment, it did it for you. Sure, Spencer was your cute little nerd, but he'd never been so hot to you.

You noticed next to the man who was staring, he had an eight ball keychain. "Hey, mind if I look at this?" You asked, reaching for it.

The man was quick to grab your hand hard. Spencer jumped into action, pulling you from him.

"Hey. What's the problem, sir?" An employee asked.

"She's reaching for my chips!"

"I'm not even in the game," You remarked.

The employee grabbed your arms, "You need to come with me."

If Spencer's eyes could've gotten any wider, they would've popped out of his head. "Hey! Don't manhandle her! She can walk, let go!" Spencer ripped the mans arms off of you and pulled you into his chest. "Come on, love. Let's just go."

Spencer's words caused your chest to tingle as he guided you away. You watched as he clicked the call-device, it lit up red. The look on the mans face, your unsub, was clear. He knew.

You met up with the team as you were lead out the doors, "They're FBI agents," Hotch informed the guard.

"There he goes, plaid shirt, baseball hat." Spencer pointed.

After searching the whole casino, the unsub made a break for it. His name was Curtis Banks. You and Spencer were sent to his house to see if he was there. After a quick search, it was clear he wasn't there.

"Hey Hotch, he isn't here. There's a foreclosure sign in the lawn." You informed your chief.

"All right, you and Reid stay there in case he comes back." Hotch hung up the phone.

You shrugged to Spencer, "And we wait."

After a beat of silence, Spencer turned to you. "At the casino, you couldn't keep your hands off of me after I won." Spencer said out of nowhere. "Your physical proximity was close, you frequently stared at me--"

"I was playing my part," You argued.

"Yeah, too well." Spencer pointed out. "Were you checking me out?"

Heat rose to your cheeks, "No. Why would I do that?"

"Look at me and say it," Spencer demanded, but his tone wasn't harsh. It was simply just firm. "You won't look at me."

Slowly, you turned to look at Spencer, "I wasn't checking you out."

"You can't look me in the eyes. You've never not looked me in the eyes." Spencer continued.

"Stop profiling me," You tried to end the discussion. It was clear Spencer had caught you. You weren't interested in being turned down, especially when you were in some sort of steak-out with the genius.

Spencer frowned, "I'm not profiling you. I'm just telling you as it is."

"That's what profiling is," You countered. "We don't need to have this conversation. Was I checking you out? Yes, I was. Is that what you wanted me to say? That you looked so damn hot winning thousands of dollars with your best poker face while you let me all over you?"

Spencer said your name, but you kept rambling. It took him grabbing your chin and forcing your face closer to his to make you stop. "You think I'm hot?"

"Yeah," You stuttered. "Yeah, I do."

Slowly, Spencer trailed his finger over your bottom lip. "I always thought you were the most gorgeous girl I'd ever seen."

"Where's this confidence coming from?" You asked.

Spencer shrugged, "Gamblers frequently experience a phenomenon called the 'winning high,' it releases dopamine and adrenaline, making gamblers do riskier things than they'd normally do."

"You gonna use that high to kiss me?" Your voice was a mere mutter. Your lips were just grazing Spencers.

"Is that what you want?" Spencer lowly asked.

"What do you think?" You retorted.

Spencer's lips slammed onto your own, harder than you expected. His large hand had the back of your neck, and he pulled you impossibly closer. It was hot, just how you wanted it. Flimsily, Spencer reached to the bottom of his seat to scoot it back. His hands went to your hips, guiding you to move across the seats to his lap.

"You know, we're still on the lookout." You mumbled, pressing another kiss to the genius's lips.

"They haven't called us yet." Spencer challenged, hand running down your back to your waist.

Slowly, Spencer's hand began to creep up your shirt, just to your navel-level. His kisses descended to your neck, pressing opened mouth, warm kisses to your skin.

"Spence," You whined, grabbing his hair to push him closer. He sighed in reply.

You both jolted when your phone began to ring. You grabbed it quickly, "What?"

"Ooh, someone's frisky." Derek teased over the phone. "We got the guy. You two are all good to head back."

"Thanks, Morgan. See you back there." You hung up the phone, tossing it back to to your seat. "Looks like we have to wrap this up."

Spencer smirked, "We fly back in the morning. We'll find some time soon."

Spencer's words weren't a tease, they were a promise.

[alwaysonthemend]

Author’s Note: This fic is in response to this lovely ask and from @jakeyt and her sinfully lovely little blurb as well. I loved writing this. The way I would pay all the money in my bank account to be able to make Jake Kiszka whimper… Ah well, a girl can dream. 

Content Warnings: Fem!reader, smut, unprotected p in v sex, dirty talk, dom!Jake & sub!reader (briefly), sub!Jake & dom!reader, overstimulation, cum play, name calling (whore, slut, etc), hickeys, biting. 18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI

Word Count: 3.5k

///////

O how the mighty have fallen. 

-

For Jake Kiszka, being a famous rockstar has its perks – money, traveling, thousands of adoring fans screaming his name, not to mention getting to do what he loves for a living surrounded by his brothers… all the things that you know Jake is thankful for. He’s told you countless times how lucky he feels, how humbled he is by the band’s success and by how much their fans support and love them.  

But there’s one thing that comes with the job that Jake absolutely despises...

Paperwork. 

It’s not often that he has to do it – all the contract signing and label nonsense that comes along with being famous. But whenever he does have to do it… well, it always leaves him in a sour mood. 

And that’s exactly what he’s upstairs at his desk doing right now as you grow more and more bored by the second. You’d already cleaned up from the meal you’d shared a few hours before, you’d dusted, swept the floor, and re-arranged the ridiculous number of throw blankets that you and Jake have somehow managed to acquire over the years. But still… Jake is busy. So busy, in fact, that he’d declined your earlier offer of a special dessert after dinner, claiming that this paperwork just had to get done tonight. 

But you’re tired of waiting. 

Deciding that enough is enough, you ascend the stairs to your shared bedroom where you know Jake is currently hunched over the desk in the corner as he reads through all the musical industry jargon that’s nearly impossible to understand. You quietly enter the room, bare feet welcoming the softness of your carpeted bedroom floor as you creep up behind him. 

“Still at it, huh?”

Jake startles, whipping his head around to glance at you over his shoulder before turning back around. 

“Yep.” He mumbles, a fingertip tracing down the page in front of him. 

“Sure is taking a while.” You walk closer to him, hovering over his shoulder to glance down at the papers in front of him. 

Jake only hums in response, flipping a page over. 

“Any idea when you’ll be done?” You ask, lips hovering so, so close to the sensitive skin of his neck – the spot right behind his ear that you know drives him crazy. 

“Sooner if you let me work in peace.” The words are accompanied by a huff – not quite annoyed but definitely not pleased with your interruption. 

“Touchy.” You tell him, earning yourself a sharp glance from the corner of his eye. 

Realizing that you’re not going to get anything from him with just words, you decide it’s time to up your game a little bit. Dropping to your knees next to his chair, you glance up at him through your lashes. The movement finally seems to draw his full attention as he swivels in his chair to look at you in confusion. 

His jaw clenches as he fully takes in the position that you’ve placed yourself in. Success. 

“Y/n. What are you doing?” 

“Waiting patiently and quietly,” you say with a little shrug, doing your best to play innocent, “for you to be finished.” 

His eyes narrow, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. 

“Sure you are.” He says, voice a little lower and his eyes dilating. You know now that you’ve got him hook, line, and sinker. “Definitely not trying to tease me at all?”

“I’m not teasing.” You tilt your head, spreading your thighs a little bit. “Is me sitting here bothering you?”

Jake grins a little, spreading his own legs as he keeps his dark eyes fixed on you. 

“Just giving me a few, very unhelpful and entirely too distracting ideas.” 

Oh you’ve really got him now. You know that there’s no way in hell that he’ll go back to whatever he was working on before. His hips shift in his seat, the light gray material of his pants allowing you to see as his length begins to harden – twitching and straining beneath the fabric. 

“What sort of ideas?” You ask him, heat flooding to your core at the sight of his very obvious desire. 

Instead of answering, Jake reaches down and grips your jaw in his calloused hand – his thumb coming up to drag along your bottom lip. You bite back a moan as his hips shift again and his breathing catches a little, betraying just how badly he wants you. 

“Thinking about your big cock in my mouth?” 

The bluntness of your question clearly takes him off guard as his lips part in a barely there moan. But then his grin widens, eyes sparkling wickedly. 

“Something like that.” He murmurs, chest rising and falling quickly. “You know I love it when you talk filthy.” 

You nod, reaching upwards to place your hands on his knees and pushing to spread his legs wider. You scoot forward, placing yourself even closer to where you know he wants you. But you don’t move, hands staying resolutely on his knees. 

“Do you want me to stop, Jakey?” You ask, already knowing his answer. “Don’t wanna distract you...”

“No.” The word is more like a growl and his grip on your jaw tightens. His hips rock forward again, as if needing relief so badly that the little friction his pants provide is better than what you’re refusing to give him. “You know good and well what I want, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” You smile up at him as you finally move to unzip his pants. He lifts his hips, allowing you to pull them fully down, leaving him in his boxers now. His cocks strains against them – his precum already leaving a dark spot on the fabric. 

“Fuck.” He groans as you finally press your palm to his length, rubbing him through the fabric slowly. His cock throbs in answer and you can’t help but laugh a little at his desperation. 

“Feel good?” You ask teasingly, rubbing your middle and pointer finger along his head in slow circles. The muscles in his thighs tense as he lets out a breath. 

“Yeah.” You slide your hand back downwards, massaging his balls through his boxers and making him groan again. “Such a fucking tease.”

You laugh lightly, pulling your hand away from him completely and he whines a little in protest. 

“I would never.” You answer, tugging his boxers down and finally setting his aching cock free. The skin is red from rubbing against the fabric and he twitches a little as the cool air hits him. 

You rise up fully, bracing both hands on the tops of his thighs before sinking your mouth down around him completely. 

“Oh.” He says through a moan, his right hand coming up to tangle in your hair as you swallow around him. “Fuckin’ hell.” 

You rise up a little, keeping your lips wrapped around his head and suckling a little bit, closing your eyes and moaning around him. It does the trick and suddenly he’s thrusting upwards the best he can, fingers tightening in your hair as you allow him to fuck into your mouth like you know he’s been thinking about doing since you first sat down at his feet. 

“Bet you’ve been waiting for this all day.” He says through clenched teeth, eyes rolling back as you moan around him again. “Just waiting to let me fuck your pretty mouth, haven’t you?”

You nod the best you can, gagging a little as the velvety head of his cock nudges the back of your throat mercilessly. Your fingers dig into his thighs as he gets a little rougher, his composure cracking completely as he nears his release. Clearly he’s been just as worked up as you’ve been these past few hours. 

His groans begin to grow even louder so you pull off him with a ‘pop’ and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Y/n, fuck.” He protests, glaring down at you the way he always does when you push him too far. “I was so close.”

“I know.” You say with a shrug, backing up a little bit. You know you’re toeing the line – getting dangerously close to pushing him too far and earning yourself a delicious punishment. But you don’t want to back down. “But you have work to do.” A nod to the papers laying abandoned on the desk. 

Jake growls, fisting his hands in your hair and tugging so that your head falls back, exposing your throat as he leans in close. 

“Don’t,” he says darkly, lips hovering just above yours, “be a brat. Or I’ll have to punish you.”

You lean upwards as much as you can with the tight grip he has on your hair and swipe your tongue across his bottom lip and then drag it across his jaw slowly, leaving a trail of saliva smeared across his beautiful face. Jake’s nostrils flare as you pull away, fire lighting in his eyes.

Without warning, Jake stands quickly and yanks on your hair, pulling you to your feet roughly. 

“Get on the fucking bed. Lose the clothes.” 

You hastily rip your tank top and shorts off, tossing them to the floor before climbing onto the bed, completely bare before him. Jake yanks his own shirt off, revealing himself fully to you as well before instantly pinning you to the mattress beneath him. 

“What, my dearest, sweetest, little angel,” he teases, “has gotten into you tonight, hm? Why are you being such a little slut?”

You relax your thighs on either side of him and roll your hips up into him, rubbing your slick folds against his aching cock. He groans then, his hand coming down to press heavily against your lower stomach to stop you from moving. 

“Were you feeling ignored?” His tone is sickly sweet, mocking and husky as you writhe beneath him. “Is that it, baby?”

“Yes.” You answer him breathlessly. “Wanted your cock so bad.”

“Oh, yeah? Such a desperate whore that you couldn’t wait just a little bit longer for me to be done? Couldn't- fuck!” 

You cut him off, scissoring your legs and throwing your bodyweight with them as you flip Jake completely into his back, You settle on top of him, straddling him and using your body to pin him for once. 

“You were taking too long.” You tell him, loving the way his mouth has dropped open in complete shock at you challenging him like this. “And you talk too much.”

“You’re asking for it, angel.” He warns darkly, but the flush on his chest and the way his cock keeps twitching betrays how the roles reversing has affected him. 

“Am I?” You ask, sliding your wet pussy along his length where it rests against his stomach. “I think you like this too much to do anything about it…” You place both palms on his stomach for leverage, relishing in the softness of him as you continue to slide up and down on his hard cock. 

His hands come up and grip your hips harshly, his eyes fluttering shut as he guides your hips over him faster. 

“Bloody hell, where has this been hiding?” He asks through gritted teeth. 

“Fuck, I dunno. You made me wait for too long.” You answer, struggling to get the words out thanks to the way his shaft is rubbing against your swollen clit – the feeling made even better thanks to his precum and your wetness mixing together. 

“Ride me, angel.” He begs, fingers digging into your hips so harshly you know it’s gonna leave bruises. “Wanna see you bouncing on my cock.”

“Fuck.” You whine, rising up a little bit as he fists his dick, helping to guide himself into you as you slowly sink down onto him. 

You both cry out loudly, the stretch of him nearly overwhelming. 

“Jake.” You whimper. “Oh my God.”

“So fuckin’ tight.” 

You start to bounce, tossing your hair over your shoulder and keeping your palms on his abdomen. Jake thrusts up to meet you, sweat dripping down his temples.

“Shit, I’m not gonna last long like this.” His voice sounds just as wrecked as he looks, his cock already twitching and pulsing inside you. You’re teasing from earlier has clearly done a number on him but you’re right behind him too.

With his eyes rolled back into his head and his creamy skin shiny and flushed, he looks like the picture of sin. His throat bobs, looking all too bite-able. His hair is splayed out on the pillow beneath his head like a halo — though you're entirely certain that no angel would want anything to do with you and him right now. A fallen angel then, you think to yourself, lost in the throes of pleasure.

Overcome by the sight of him beneath you like this, by the sounds of pleasure that tumble from his lips with each roll of your hips, you lean downwards and attach your mouth to the column of his throat. Then, almost without thinking, your teeth graze the sensitive skin and Jake jolts beneath you, a loud moan escaping him as you bite down — pinching his skin with your teeth. You soothe the spot with a pass of your tongue, moving downwards a little to suck a purple mark onto his skin.

"Do that again." His voice sounds so unlike himself — needy and desperate. "Mark me." It's not a request — but a whiny, broken prayer.

There's no denying him now as you graze your lips over to the other side of his neck, sucking another bruise there. You can feel his cock pulse as you do so and his breathing quickens even more.

"So pretty, Jakey."

He whimpers in answer, plush lips dropping open and tiny little grunts and moans leaving them with every thrust of his hips.

His cock feels so good inside of you, the ridges and veins brushing against your walls in a delicious drag and the blunt head hitting against your sweet spot with each rise and fall of your hips. He's driving into you recklessly, coaxing you closer and closer and closer to your release. Your thighs begin to burn but you can't stop. You won't stop.

“Jake, ‘m gonna cum! Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” 

“Yeah. Fucking do it, angel. Oh fuck!”

Suddenly his thumb is circling your clit and then your orgasm is crashing through you. Your walls clench around him as you cry out his name – the burn in your thighs fading into nothing as you continue to ride him through your release. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Jake is right behind you, thrusting up helplessly as he finishes, painting your walls with his release. 

As your mind finally begins to return, as the waves of pleasure dissipate at last, you’re hit with a wonderfully devilish idea. You’ve gotten away with more than you ever have before tonight and… what’s one more thing, really? 

You pull off Jake, climbing off to the side of his body. His eyes are closed, his face the picture of bliss. Giving him no warning, you wrap your hand around his spent cock. Jake's body convulses, eyes snapping open as he whines. Loudly. 

“Y/n!” He cries out your name as you jerk him roughly, his poor cock valiantly beginning to harden again as you work your palm over him, yours and his releases making it slick and easy. “God.”

“Give me one more, Jakey.” You murmur, unable to tear your gaze away from him. He writhes, hands falling to his sides and fisting the sheets into his hands, fingers turning white where his rings dig into his skin. 

“I can’t!” He cries out, head thrashing. “Fuck, it’s too much.” 

He sounds so desperate, so broken and it sends a thrill through you. Oh how the mighty has fallen at last.

“Poor baby.” You tease. “Getting a taste of your own medicine, yeah?” 

He whimpers in answer, body going taut as pleasure finally begins to overtake him again. He really is tasting his own medicine – experiencing first hand the sinful agony that he loves to inflict upon you. It’s always you. 

But not tonight. No, he’s been flying too close to the sun for a long, long time and tonight he’s finally paying the price for it. 

“Give me another one, baby.” You murmur, eyeing the way his hair sticks to the side of his face and his neck with sweat. “Show me how much you love me. Show me that you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” He says through a moan, body beginning to tremble. “Only yours. Fuck!”

“Yeah, you are. You’re mine.” 

His body goes completely rigid, muscles so tense you’re almost afraid he might hurt himself. 

“Holy shit! Oh God, I’m gonna- fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

“That’s it, baby. That’s right. Being such a good boy.”

That does it. Jake’s whole body convulses, his eyes rolling back in his head as hot cum explodes from him. He screams – a sound so beautiful and full of pleasure that you’ve never heard from him before. You work him through it, watching as he completely succumbs to it all, chanting your name the whole way through. 

Finally, his body relaxes slightly and he whimpers so you let go of him and reach up to swipe his hair from his forehead. You can feel his racing heartbeat as you place your hand on his chest, hoping to try and help him settle a little. Those gorgeous eyes of his finally blink open to look at you and a tired, satiated smile spreads across his lips. 

“Okay?” You ask, trying to hold back your own grin after seeing such a display from him. 

“Jesus. I think so.” He shifts a little, grimacing at the feeling of his cum drying on his stomach and chest. “Sticky.” He adds with a little pout. 

You roll your eyes playfully and rise to grab his boxers off the floor and wipe him clean, carefully avoiding his abused cock where it lays spent against his thigh. 

“That was fucking hot.” You tell him, settling down next to him in the bed. The lights are still on but neither of you seem to have the energy to get up and turn them off quite yet. 

“Yeah.” He breathes out, laughing a little, “I think my soul left my body there for a minute.”

“Would do again, then?” You ask, grinning a little at him. 

He grins back. 

“Oh, fuck yes. I didn’t know you had that in you… taking control like that.”

You turn on your side to face him and press a little kiss to his lips.

“Me neither.”

 After a long moment of comfortable, exhausted silence you ask, suddenly a little worried, “That paperwork didn’t actually have to be done by tonight, right?”

“Fuck.”

fin

////////

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[romanestuffsposts]

I was wondering if you want,What if stuckys little needed surgery? Like appendix or something? 🥺

You are a great writer! 💗💗💗

Hi there love! 💜

Thank you so much! You're so sweet!! ❤️

Of course I can write that for you sweetie, I'm sorry it took me so long!

Enjoy <33

****

Warnings : hospital, doctors, surgery, comfort, reassurance, pet names, cuddles, aftercare,

Pairings : Daddies!Stucky ; Daddy!Bucky x Papa!Steve x Little!Reader

Summary : You need to have a surgery and you need your Daddies more than anything

****

The pain came in one second. You didn't understood what was happening but it surely shook you up. It happened in the middle of a movie, everything were going well until you felt the pain shooting on the side of your tummy.

Your Papa called Bruce to know if they had to react or if it was just a cramp but Bruce advised them to go to the hospital quickly, and they did. You were quickly taken under the care of the doctors and nurses around you but that didn't help you with your anxiety.

You never really liked hospitals. You never really got into one neither but each time you hear the word hospital, it follow with a bad thing. Or even if someone came out perfectly well from there, it still scared you because if that person went to the hospital in the first place it was because he or she wasn't feeling well.

So hospitals are bad news for you and your goal was to always be careful to not go in one.

You squeeze tightly the strong hand of your Daddy in your little one as the doctor speaks. You don't understand a thing of what he's saying but apparently your Daddies do. It reassure you a little bit but at the same time not entirely either.

You feel him squeezing your hand back as his gaze stayed focus on the man Infront of him. The other hand of your Daddy comes on top of yours and start to gently caressing it.

It’s a way for him to comfort you while keeping himself update about your health. He knows you have thousand of questions and you’re scared to ask because you’re scared of the answers you can get. He hates that you’re feeling like that, he hates that he can’t comfort you the way he want to, the way you need.

The doctor leaves the room to let you three alone while he and his crew prepare everything for the surgery.

Your Daddies turn toward you and give you sweet smiles "how are you feeling, little one ?" Your Daddy slides his hand against your forehead, a movement that relax you each time.

"little bit better" you mumble. You do feel better in some way, the pain is less present than earlier but you still feel that your anxiety is still there.

"The nice doctor who was there a second ago gave you some meds to ease your pain, that's why you're feeling a little bit better like you said" your Papa kisses your nose "but now it's time to prepare you for the surgery, you know what it is ? A surgery ?"

You shake your head and play with your Daddy's fingers who are still in your hand "well a surgery is a procedure that is done on people to help them feeling better. Yours will be really simple, it won't be too long and it won't be too hard for the surgeons. You'll feel better sooner than you can imagine" He says, bopping your nose with his index.

"do you have questions ?" your Daddy asks. You nod your head but don't do anything more so he asks again "you wanna know what was the pain ?"

You nod your head again

"Well," he starts, he lifts up your shirt and you look down "you have something here" he touches the side of your tummy "that's called the appendix. For some people, their appendix stay unfelt for their entire life but for others, they must remove it because a huge pain, like the one you felt this morning, is felt and unbearable. That's what happened"

You look back down at his finger pointing the side of your tummy and frown "how they 'emove it ?"

"They'll have to make a tiny cut somewhere here" he circles around the side of your tummy "and they'll simply remove it" you frown, not understanding "it'll be as easy and as fast than when you remove your doll's arm" he jokes poking your belly button making you giggle.

The more they distract you from the fear you can feel about this situation, the better it is.

"We'll be waiting patiently here for you, we won't go anywhere. We'll be by your side during the time you need to wake up from the surgery. You won't be alone at all" Your Papa says, kissing your forehead

"And get ready to not lift one little of those precious fingers during all your recovery. You'll be the most spoiled little princess in this world" Your Daddy adds, winking at you.

You shyly smile at their words, even tho you don't want to do what you have to do, you can't lie and say you're not excited about the after.

~

"hey, easy. My precious babygirl" You hear your Daddy saying. You frown your beautiful brows as you try to focus on your surrender "here you are, princess" your Papa smiles

Both of your hands are trapping in your Daddies's and gentle caresses are pressing against your skin here and there. They let you take the time to wake up, it's not easy and it takes multiples minutes but after a moment, you peer up at them with tired eyes and a blank face from the surgery.

"how are you doing, baby ?" your Papa asks, kissing the top of your hand.

"mhhh" you moan in discomfort. You wiggle in the bed, trying to find a comfortable position but nothing is comfortable enough for you.

"here" your Daddy puts a second pillow behind your neck and sigh in relieve. It's a little bit more comfy.

"take it easy, precious. You just woke up so it's normal if it's hard at first" your Papa says "but don't worry, it's totally normal"

You nod and close your eyes for a second.

The second become minutes and you end up falling asleep. During the whole day you shift between being half awake and fully sleeping because of the anesthesia.

Your Daddies were by your side the whole time, comforting you when you cried because it hurt, giving you water when the doctor gave you his affirmation that you could drink and eat from now on, helping you to stand up to go in the bathroom and helping you falling back asleep.

It was a hard day that's for sure but the comfort of your Daddies helped you going through it.

As soon as you get back home, your Daddies brought you upstairs in the bathroom so they could wash you without wetting your bandage.

Your Papa sits you on the counter of the sink and start to undress you, even tho you don't have much clothes on you because of how hard it was to dress before leaving the hospital, he's being careful when he has to take your short out.

Your Daddy prepared a washclothe and runs it on your skin to fresh you up before putting you in your pyjama. Your Papa lies you in their big bed and they both come in with you

"you're tired, beautiful ?" your Daddy quietly asks, his fingers sliding in your hair and massaging your scalp "do you want a story before sleeping ?"

You shake your head and snuggle closer to them while being careful with your bandage. You're too tired and unable to stay focus right now, you just wanna sleep the discomfort away.

"alright, close your beautiful eyes. The nurse will come tomorrow to change your bandage and then we'll stay in bed all day" your Daddy smiles with big eyes making you smile back "and Papa will even bring breakfast in bed, just for you" he teases, poking your nose with his index causing your tired and almost quiet giggles to come out

Steve rolls his eyes and pushes Bucky softly "try again" he mumble making Bucky laughs

'shut it now, our princess tries to fall asleep" Bucky jokes, and when he looks down at you he already sees you fast asleep against his arm which make the sweetest expression to appear on his chest.

[vidalinav]

Stu(died) Bonus Scene 1

Summary: This is how Nesta gets Cassian's hoody.

~

Nesta heads to the campus library after her shift and it’s not to study. It’s to feel paper on her fingertips. To hide behind a shelf and sit at the bottom, wading through carpeted seas. There’s something about the smell of books. Home is not a place that is hours away, but a place between pages that she can’t begin to fathom or feel.  

Nesta can read it though.  

She can smell it.  

And yes, maybe the semester is getting a little too heavy and so her thoughts are weighing down on her. If only she could carry a thousand books instead of working another shift, or writing another paper, or twisting her brain to remember every detail of a lecture. Her professors are starting to sound like the adults in Charlie Brown. Wha wha’s instead of the explanation on the electrical activity of the heart.  

Rip out her aorta, already. Each ventricle and vein. Press words instead of notes into the cavity. Nesta wants it to fill her... to feel full... to feel... happy again.  

Because she’s starting to feel only tired.  

And yes, she needs sleep. A shower. Some food. But Nesta thinks of books instead of walking home after her shift. She lugs herself to the elevator, presses the button for the fourth floor and she breathes in the smell of old paper. 

No one will ask where she is. Nesta works too much for anyone to guess that she might not be where she’s supposed to be, so hours will pass between shelves and there’s nothing romantic about the way her arms hug her knees, because no one else will be there to hug her. Because who will care about her if all she does is work?  

But Nesta won’t cry.  

Or at least she says she won’t. She’ll let the books calm her back into decency and composure. Enough to go home and do her homework for the night, because it’s still due in the morning.  

Everything seems to be due tomorrow and the night arrives sooner than she thinks.  

Nesta’s not crazy enough to sleep here, but she knows some people will. It’s easy to do when there are students gulping down Red Bulls until their body is 70% caffeine. There’s only so many all-nighters you can pull, before the inevitable crash, but Nesta has not pulled her fair share.  

In fact, there’s nothing really wrong.  

Or at least she says there isn’t.  

She’s alone on a Thursday and tomorrow it'll be Friday and her friends will be planning a movie while Nesta thinks of work. Shifts in between studying.  

But she’s used to it. She’s done this before. Nesta does this every semester... and every semester more, she scurries through the shelves, peaking through hallways. Every semester she sits on the floor, waiting for books to tell her how she feels.  

Nesta doesn’t truly know. 

Most of the time in the library, well... she’s annoyed. Irritated at something Cassian says or the way he doesn’t do what she tells him. She fumes, nagging and bitter as she taps at his textbook and for some reason that feels... good.  

It at least feels better than this. This awful, nothing feeling. This tired, resigned woe. This if no one knows I exist, do I? feeling.  

Will this be her life for four more semesters?  

Nesta sighs, squeezing tighter at her knees.  

And it's dark by the time Nesta leaves. As she walks out of the library, the night takes a bite... a little nibble before Nesta stops at a lamp post, safe in its shade.   

And... well, night is only scary for women, she thinks.  

That must be what sits on her chest, maybe.  

There’s a story that people pass around like nighttime fairytales about a girl who was stabbed on campus three years ago. It’s why their campus has emergency alarms at every corner and why there’s a buddy system for late night trips back home.  

But Nesta doesn’t think to call them. Nesta does everything herself.  

Alone, she thinks... and it might not be fear that sits there, peeking through her skin.  

It roars, she knows—that feeling.  

The night is only scary for women.   

That’s the greatest knowledge she’s learned and perhaps there is one feeling she can name instead of numbness. This great big... unfairness. Quiet in the solid night.  

It is unfair that she is her. That she is a woman. It is unfair she is a student. That she is not even a rich student. That she has to study. That days pass and she studies. That years pass, and she’ll study for those too.  

It is quite unfair that she is not a frat boy.  

Not a privileged little frat boy whose dues would pay for her tuition... or her books... or her food. Three jobs? They’ve never heard of work.  

Cassian has sure never heard of work. He eats privilege for breakfast. With his little silver spoon.  

So, she doesn’t know why she calls him. She presses her thumb to the number before she can convince herself against it.  

Nesta can hear laughter in the background. Giggling and bright.  

Feminine.  

“Nesta?” He answers, and his voice is rough with concern. Not at all with curiosity, though she’s never called him before.  

“Cassian,” she breathes and there must be something in the sound of her voice. Something that means no arguing. No questions asked except for one.   

“Nesta, where are you?”  

She looks around the buildings. The yellow brick beneath her shoes could lead anywhere. To the library. To the closed restaurants stuck in dorm halls. “I’m on campus. Near... the business hall.”  

“Wait there and I’ll come get you,” he says and for once Nesta doesn’t argue with him.   

~ 

The lamp posts illuminate pockets of an abandoned campus, and the light means someone else exists. Nesta needs only to reach out a hand and he’ll be standing there.  

Because she called.  

Because he worries for her. She can hear it in his voice on the phone.  

When he comes running, Cassian’s in pajama pants and a white tee. In the dark, his chest looks like the moon. He has his hoodie crumpled in his hands, and he holds out the shaded red urging her take it.  

“It’s freezing out here,” she replies, tucking her hand into her pockets as if that might make him pull it back. Out of reach where her hands can’t grasp it without her permission.  

“I know,” he says, firmly, “so wear my hoodie so you don’t freeze to death. You didn’t bring a coat?” 

“It was warm earlier. I didn’t think I would be here this long.” 

Cassian’s hair flops around his face as he tilts his head, scrunching up his brows. “Why were you? Didn’t you work today?”  

“I just lost track of time,” she answers dismissingly. It's technically true, though she supposes time is not so easily tracked when she is often running out of it. She can’t stop thinking about classes, about money, about the future, about her lack of time. So Nesta shrugs. “The library makes me... calm—Why are you laughing?” 

Cassian’s grin gets wider at her derisive tone. “I’ve just seen you get mad at me so many times in that library, I have a hard time imagining it makes you calm.”  

Nesta can’t help but huff as she crosses her arms. She can feel the wind, her short-sleeved shirt barely covering anything. Cassian doesn’t seem to like that. He frowns at her arms, his brows permanently engraved.  

“Still, take my hoodie,” he urges, “I don't like seeing you shiver when there’s a perfectly good hoodie right here going to waste.”  

Cassian holds it out for her, but Nesta doesn’t want to take it. It seems too intimate. She doesn’t want to feel the cloth on her skin, warm from his body, wonder if that’s how his hugs must feel. She doesn’t want to know what he smells like, if she’ll ever be able to wash it off as if it permanently marks her skin. 

Would she be okay with that—with having an essence of him burned into her memory? She thinks of those moths. They dive in out of light sockets because they can’t resist the glow. Is it his hoodie that she can’t resist? The color, it’s warmth. Is it him she moves to as he walks in the moon’s magic veil?  

She can hear the buzz of bulbs of lamp posts and wonders if that’s an invitation to speak. She wonders if this is an invitation to wrap her arms around him and sink... to feel warmth where there is none.  

To the moths, the moon is trapped in a lightbulb. To Nesta, the moon is captured on Cassian’s chest, and it might be a perfectly good place to rest her head for a while, if only she did not fear what that would make her feel.  

It’s only as Cassian dips his head to catch her eyes that Nesta realizes she’s been staring at his bright white t-shirt.  

“I can’t take it,” she says.  

“It won’t bite Nesta, what are you afraid of?”  

You, she wants to speak.  

“Your cleaning habits,” she says instead.  

Cassian rolls his eyes, but his hand still reaches out for her, that hoodie grasped in his palm.  

Take it, the gesture says.  

Nesta has never been fond of people telling her what to do.  

~ 

“Cassian walked you home?” Gwyn asks. Nesta tries to hold the hoodie behind her back, but nothing can hide Cassian’s massive sweatshirt in her hands.  

“Why didn’t you just call me?” Emerie says as she rubs a towel through her waves.

Nesta shrugs, “just the first number I saw.”  

But she doesn’t let them ask any more questions before going to her room.  

It’s late after all.  

And in her room, when she’s supposed to be studying, Nesta looks to her bookshelf, then to the window where a white house sprawls across the lawn like a blinding star. The pen is already in her hand when her gaze drifts to paper. She thinks of his name in the corner of the first page and her pen moves across the third where chemical bonds are sprawled in light green.  

I wish I could bottle every moment with you and keep it in a jar. Safe where I can see it.   

~

Stu(died) Tagged List:

@arinbelle @my-fan-side @sophilightwood @nestaarcher0n @duskandstarlight @soitsgorgeous @swankii-art-teacher @lordof-bloodshed @daisy-in-danger @highqueenevankhell @lovelynesta @sirendeepity @champanheandluxxury @ladynestaarcheron @moodymelanist @teagoddess99 @spoilersteph @angelic-voice-1997 @bo0kmaster69 @drielecarla @generalnesta @cozycomfyliving08 @confusedfandomslut @dread3r @sv0430 @unhealthyfanobsession @simpingfornestaarcheron @talkfantasytome  @sayosdreams

~

I told you I was back. Also college is hard y’all. I had to write something that captured that. Also every detail about campus was my campus!

Next chapter has tinges of nesta being sad and why so I had to set up some sort of transition.

[0viraptoraskblog]

I really lovr ur writing and i'd also love to hear abt ur writing process if thats alr :3

Absolutely! Thank you ^^

My process isn’t super professional or anything. I’ll use First Time for Everything (my main work) as an example.

First, I just come up with a general idea of what I want the story to be about. A lot of it was ‘write what you want to see’, and I wanted a full story of Ren and Strade that was close to canon. So I used Gato’s ask answers and official art as inspiration, and built off of them to make a story.

Then I make notes. Usually on my phone, in another document, because they can be moved and added to whenever I want. These act as a kind of script for the whole story. It’s a bunch of chapter summaries, in order of when they happen. Like, I knew I wanted a chapter of Ren and Strade outside together, but it would only make sense later on in the story— so I put it at the end of the notes, knowing that it would come later. Then, as I get more ideas that come sooner, I’d put them above that chapter until the timeline falls into place.

This note becomes a list, in order, of the chapters and what happens in them.

This way, I have about 10 chapters planned ahead at any given time, so I can use foreshadowing accordingly or make sure the characters develop the way I want.

The notes start out with a general idea. I’m sure that one was once “Ren is let outside for the first time”, but as it got closer, I added details I wanted to put in, bits of dialogue, and shaped the ‘feel’ of the chapter more. I also move them around if I need to adjust the timeline— really just going with my instinct of what feels right.

For actually writing, I just start. The first draft is never perfect, but you just need to start writing with the knowledge that you can go back and change it later. I write a first copy over time (I don’t have a schedule, for fear I’d get burnt out. I’d rather the story be good than released fast.) then I go through and edit little bits and pieces, just a few sentences or paragraphs at a time to make it flow better. Sometimes this happens repeatedly, until it seems good enough. This is usually the slowest step because I need the creative juices to flow, and sometimes they don’t want to XD

But I just go little by little. If there’s a word or sentence that doesn’t sound right, I underline it. That’s a note to myself to come back and change it when I edit.

Once I have something I’m okay with, I have one final editing session. I sit down and go through the chapter all at once, fixing any words I need and making final changes. I like doing this all at once so I can tell if it reads well in one sitting— which is how the reader will see it. (Like, did I use a certain word too many times? Or did I write about the same thing twice? Catching little mistakes.) I’ve seen it a thousand times, but I skip around, so this helps set things in stone, from beginning to end.

This last edit usually takes 2-4 hours depending on how long the chapter is, but that’s because I’m picky with vocabulary lol. I can also write slowly at times. Everyone’s process can look different, this is just what I like.

I’m not sure how easy that was to understand.. I hope I made sense :)

[starry-pierrot]

Time Flows

It's been well over a thousand years since everyone was given a golden skull necklace, a thousand experiences eventually will tire someone out. And others will follow.

Kallamar/Robin/Polycule ocs

Others included: Lamb, Narinder, Leshy, Heket, Theo (Yellow cat) ocs

Tw: Death. Lots of death. But not bloody death just gentle passing on.

------

AIGHT got another one, I apparently can't write linear at all so you're all going to be getting bits and pieces. But this one specifically was inspired by another comic from @circuscountdowns . Please remember that what I write is not necessarily canon to their COTL story nor should it be taken as canon. I am not at all involved in their own writing process and have no insight of what they choose to do.

With that out of the way-enjoy!

---------------

Kallamar had been rather off lately. Robin wasn’t sure what was going on but whenever they were together he seemed to be distracted with something. Did someone say something to him? Kallmar could annoy others but so far he hasn’t gotten himself any sort of enemies. Sure maybe a rolling of the eyes as he complains about the crystal’s around the cult not getting polished enough. But nothing that would warrant anyone being outright rude to him. 

Plus the other cultists knew better. 

No something else has to be bothering him. Robin quickly set up the little plate of food as they waited for their husband to show up, making sure all the little finger sandwiches were just how he liked them. All nicely sliced and even with only a little bit of tomato sticking out. A smile on their face, that posh squid was such a dork. 

Hearing the home’s door open, Robin turned to a smiling Kallamar, “Are those finger sandwiches?” he asked, perking up just a bit. Walking just a bit quicker into the room as if it was the first time he’s been served that specific food. 

“Kallamar I always make you finger sandwiches.” An amused huff as the squid quickly sits down and takes one to put on his own smaller plate. 

“But you like to see me excited don’t you?” He laughed while pouring out the tea for the both of them, “Thank you, love.” Kallamar waited for Robin to take their own seat before he took a bite of his own food. 

Robin enjoyed these little moments between them, usually Robin would be busy in the Tailor’s Hut or they’d be with Aspen and Harper. But when they had a moment to themselves Robin truly felt content. “So…Kallamar, I couldn’t help but notice you seem a little upset at something lately.” No point in beating around the bush. 

Those words got the squid to stop mid bite and stare at Robin for a moment, suddenly he seemed to deflate with his shoulders drooping and the sandwich going back onto the plate. “I supposed you would have noticed sooner or later. But please do not worry I am…it is a family matter.” 

“Considering we’re married I would think I’d be included in the ‘family matter’.” Robin pointed out a little curtly, making Kallamar flinch just the tiniest bit. Robin didn’t go through all the trouble of  learning and becoming friends with his family to not be included in at least some things. Especially when Heket challenged them to a little sparring match to, ‘Make sure Kallamari wasn’t marrying another wimp’. That frog sure as heck bruised their tailbone. 

“You are! And you will be, I just…need some time.” Kallamar had already looked deflated but now he looked like a kicked puppy. Robin sighed and shook their head before reaching over to hold his hand on top of the table. 

“Alright alright. I am a patient person. I can wait. But I want you to come to me if it ever gets to a worse point, okay?” A loving smile, “That’s what I’m here for. To help you.” 

Kallamar gave an appreciative smile as his own hand squeezed theirs back, “Thank you. I promise I’ll let you know when I can. And I will be telling the other two. “ 

“I trust you.” 

—

It was a week later when Robin had been working late into the night in the Tailors Tent, a request from Narinder of all people asked for a lace collar. He wouldn’t say what it was for but considering his and the Lamb’s anniversary is coming up Robin has made a few assumptions. The lace was covered in an intricate camellia pattern with other yellow and white flowers, once it was finished it would be attached to a leather collar and with a new and pristine silver bell. 

Honestly it was going to be beautiful and Robin wanted it to be one of their best works, hence the late nights. Hearing the curtain of the doorway open Robin’s ears flicked, “We’re closed! Unless you need a hand with stitching something up you’ll have to come back tomorr-”

“Robin.” Ah. 

“Kallamar? You’re up late, don’t you need your beauty sleep?” Robin smiled as they looked back putting down the tools. Their smile was wiped off their face, however, as they looked at him, Kallamar could usually be found smiling or at worse frowning. But he had a serious look on his face, it was obvious now was not the time to joke around. “..Sweetie? Is everything alright? Is this about the family matter?” 

“It is.” He walked closer grabbing a stool and sitting down in front of Robin, his eyes glancing to the floor. 

“You aren’t fighting with your siblings again are you?” Robin asked, concerned knowing the last time this sort of thing happened during an argument between him and Leshy.  

“No. No we aren’t. But this does involve them and I need to have a very important discussion with you.” Reaching over Kallamar took Robin’s hands in his own, staring at their joined hands for a moment before he looked up to them. The golden skull necklace catches his eye as it shines in the light of the candles. “My sweet sweet pearl, we’ve lived a long long life thanks to the Lamb. Longer than any mortal has.” 

Kallamar was rubbing their knuckles as he talked, “And it seems that Shamura has grown tired of living. They wish to move onto the next part of life.” What’s left of his ears droop as he squeezes their hand.  

Robin felt their heart squeeze in their chest, Shamura was the most wise of the five siblings and eventually became much like an older friend to Robin. “Oh Kallamar, I’m so sorry,” Robin turned the hands and was now squeezing Kallamar’s own, leaning in to bow their head. “But I’ll be here for you and so will Aspen and Harper.” 

Kallamr let out a wet little laugh, tears building in his eyes, “Dear you’re going to have to pull your head up. I can’t read you when you’re looking down.” Robin’s head snapped up at the reminder, an apologetic smile. 

“Aspen, Harper and I will be here for you.” A reassuring squeeze of the hands once more. 

“I know you will. But…this has made me think some things over. About life…my family and all three of you.” Robin quirked a brow curiously, “I have  come to the conclusion that…I have also grown tired of living.” 

Robin stared. They stared for a long moment as their brain tried to process what he had just said, already they can feel their muscle’s tensing.  

“I want to move on, Robin.” He said quietly as he gently pulled them forward to lean his forehead against theirs. “I think I have lived for far more than enough.”  

Robin could swear their heart squeezed hard in their chest, eyes glancing down to the golden skull necklace he still wore before looking back up at him. Tears gathering in their eyes as they took a deep breath, pulling away to look at him once more, “....you wish to move on along with your sibling?” Their voice was quiet, fragile. 

“I do.” Once more Kallamar’s hands squeezed theirs, this time staying in a hug like grip in an attempt to comfort. “And I would like for you to move on with me. If that is what you wish.” 

Robin was quiet as they thought about it. It has been well over…what a thousand years since they were given this necklace? More than any normal person could hope for. So much time. So many things they’ve been through and experiences. They've traveled, went to hundreds of celebrations, so so many birthdays and all the little moments between this silly little polycule they found themselves in. 

Would they be able to feel anything in the afterlife? The Lamb preaches how death isn’t the end, it's just another journey but Robin had always questioned it. Just a smidge. Even going to some lengths of trying to speak to the dead during a bit of a crazy Blood Moon party, it didn’t work at the time. Though they swear they heard the Lamb mumble about the misuse of symbols. 

But then again Robin was dating a former god. There had to be some truth to it. 

“I know death has never been easy on you.” He quietly began to speak again, “When Leon died it took you weeks to feel better. And I know you still visit his grave with fresh daisies every month.” Leon had been a dear friend to Robin, “And then Lamar had passed..,” another good friend. “If you wish to live longer I will not mind. I’ll have nothing but time in the after and I can wait for you.” Lifting their hand Kallamar places a slightly wet kiss to their knuckles.  

Robin still had plenty of friends, despite being able to live longer they still managed to keep their friendly nature about them.Those friends would still be in the cult, they would still live their lives with or without them. Under the Lamb’s care they would be alright.

Besides life has gotten just a taaaad bit boring. 

 “You know…I think I’m a little tired too.” A half sob slips out as they use one hand to wipe at their eyes. 

“Are you sure? I won't be upset if you wish to live longer, love.” Kallamar reassured, his own hand replacing the one that Robin was using. 

“No…no this is okay. And I know I’m going to cry like a child but-it’ll be fine. I have to get back on times clock sometime right?” Their voice wobble as they’re coming to terms for what was going to happen. “I expect you already spoken to-?” 

“Just make sure everyone gives me enough time for me to make burial garments because I am not dying before making my masterpieces!”

“Yes. And they’ve agreed to be laid to rest as well.” Kallamar moved closer, leaning his forehead onto Robin’s once more, a quiet pause. “So..Robin will you die with me?” Another one of his charming smirks on his face.

Robin couldn’t hold back the snort, “Ppf-oh such a char-aha-charmer!” Giggles taking over them both, “Yes…yes I’ll die with you, Kallamar. I’d follow you to the ends of the earth.” 

—--

It was about a week later that Robin and everyone else had their golden necklaces removed and the flow of time was once more working. They were assured they still had a long while before anyone were to pass but it was no shock that the first was Shamura. The old spider had passed underneath their favorite tree, the one they always sat and read to the kids. It had been during sunset. 

Their burial garment was woven with patterns of their past, spiders, their once previous crown and their story's conclusion of being in the Lambs cult with their family. All made with sparkling spider silk of course. 

 It had been hard on everyone but eventually things returned as normal as they could be. 

Then at a terrible turn of events Aspen had turned ill and passed away, Robin and Harper gave Kallamar all they could when it had happened. 

About three years later Kallamar’s health started to decline. It was getting hard for him to move and he had to take on easier meals to eat. Soon he was in his own bed in the Medical Tent. Robin knew the time would be soon and so they stayed along with Harper, the Lamb giving them a special pardon from their duties until Kallamar has passed. 

“You won't believe what Jude did the other day-” Harper as usual was talking Kallamar’s ear off, not that he minded. He loved to watch her tell him all about the juicy gossip from the village. Robin smiles as the two continue to talk, “You would think he would get a clue but no!” The two of them were laughing which quickly turned into one of them coughing. 

Robin was quick with the cup of water as they helped Kallamar sit up, “Easy now, love. Slow.” Kallamar slowly took a sip giving Robin a pat of appreciation, once he was finished they gently laid him back against the pillow. “Better?” 

“Very. Thank you.” He smiled. 

The doors to the room opened and Lesy was walking in with Theo, Heket right behind him, “How’s he doing nurses?” he asked. 

“Oh just fine! No difference since yesterday!” Harper provided to her chaos embodied brother-in-law, the worm giving a firm nod before moving to the foot of Kallamar’s bed. 

Heket moved over next to Robin, the both of them sharing an acknowledgement, “Narinder will be by later. He and the Lamb had to handle a situation.” She signed before pulling out a basket from underneath her cloak. 

“Are those puff pastries? Heket! Oh you know just what I like, sister.” Kallamar excitedly bounced in his bed, hands reaching over as Heket pulled the plate out of the basket. Once he had them in his hands he couldn’t help the little sound of satisfaction. 

“Of course I made them. Don’t know how long you’re going to last, might as well just feed you every little sweet thing in the compound.” Robin’s ears flicked back for a moment, sure Heket was telling the truth but they still didn’t like to hear about guesses on when he was going to move on.

Eventually Narinder came along with the Lamb and everyone had a small knucklebones game night, it was full of laughter and love. 

But somehow without anyone seeing, without anyone noticing, while Lehsy and Narinder had been playfully arguing and causing a roaring laughter of the place….he slipped away. 

The Lamb of course had noticed first, their laughter abruptly stopping. Then it was Heket, Harper, Robin and finally Narinder and Leshy. The room was silent for a moment before a quiet sob from Harper broke everyone out of the spell. 

It was odd how Kallamar looked like he was asleep with a smile on his face, as if he was just resting. Soon the whole room was full of tears and quiet sobs, Robin shook as they tried to stay quiet. Usually they’d prefer to mourn on their own, never quite liking anyone to touch them or to even offer their condolences. 

But when Heket had offered her arms Robin quickly slipped against the frogs chest and cried.  

Soon preparations for the funeral began, the whole family included their own touches much like when Shamura died. Robin was sure to have his casket made out of the nicer pile of wood.

 Kallamar had been dressed in the fanciest clothing Robin could design, with all the glitz and glam he ever wanted. And just like Shamura’s there was a mural of his story woven into the garment as well as a forget-me-not stitched right over his heart. 

Just as they were about to close the casket for burial a bright light from between the clouds shined through, making every bit of crystal on him shimmer and shine for just a moment before it faded back behind the clouds. 

Leshy, while he couldn’t see it, jokes he bribed a sun god into giving him the prettiest funeral ever. 

Life went back to moving forward. More different than it was before but still moving forward. 

Soon Heket went. 

Leshy's husband.

Harper. 

And finally it was just Robin and Leshy left. The two had taken to seeing each other every day and managed a few final days of mischievousness together, much like switching out the Lamb’s sermon book. Instead of notes for the morning sermon the Lamb was met with confetti that went absolutely everywhere.  

Or how they managed to tie a bow to Narinder’s tail while he was sleeping, he had no idea until the Lamb came around and couldn’t stop laughing at how adorable it looked. 

Soon however, it was their own time. Unlike Kallamar they had not been surrounded by their family, but in their bed in the middle of the night. Sleeping and soon with a final breath they too slipped away.

—--

The world was a beautiful creamy white color, the fog not frightening nor uncomfortable. Robin had thought it’d be a little colder but all they felt was warmth. Looking down they notice they’re wearing their burial garments,which was odd. They shouldn’t be buried yet.

 A red light catches their attention,the Lamb was standing right there waiting at the gate. Robin took a moment before they walked forward,“Hello, Robin.” 

“Here to usher me through the gate, divine one?” Robin smiled, “You know you’re either really good at being quick about it or you don’t do this very often.” The Lamb usually could be found somewhere in the cult, with how many souls die so often you’d think they’d be far more busy.

“I have my assistants. But this time I thought I’d pay a personal visit.” A soft smile on their face, “Leshy is going to miss you. As will Narinder and I.” 

Oops. Wrong thing to say, Lamb. Tears began to well up in Robin’s eyes, “D-don’t say that! You’re supposed to be making sure I’m at peace, Lamb!” The Lamb laughed as they stepped forward to wrap their arms around the crying deer. 

“Sorry sorry, but you’re going to be crying anyways. You have plenty of people who wish to see you…they’re actually making quite the ruckus.” Another laugh as they pulled back and directed Robin to the gate. “You should go.” 

Robin couldn’t see anything beyond the fog but they’re sure they hear the slight bit of sound echoing from somewhere. Ears twitching as they take a step forward and then another and soon they were almost through when-”Oh!”

The lamb quirked a brow when Robin turned around, “Tell Leshy I hid his game pieces in his flower pots!” A laugh slipped out before one final wave and the Lamb was alone once more. 

Though from the sounds of cheers and declaration of love they could hear…Robin was home. 

-----

Thank you for reading!

[reposenotes]

Imminent Pt.2

Extended author's notes, AKA just a fucking journal entry, let's just call things what they are

Please forgive me for being a day late!

(Except for the rude, entitled jerk who left the comment on the previous chapter about being late. We do this for free, and that was a shitty way to start my day! But I'm good now.)

Extra anxiety has come with this update, as I’ve lost my beta for the foreseeable future (our friendship is fine! They’re just going through some heavy stuff) — and this person has been such a vital part of the process for the past year. It’s too late in the game for me to even want a new one for this story, so there is a chance that I may be seeing the rest of this fic through completely on my own.

Thankfully, this friend worked with me every step of the way as I finished fleshing out the blurry parts of my outline last year, and I’m still confident about the ending+everything leading up to it. I have faith that I can do this alone (chapter 10-16 were written without a beta), but of course it’s disheartening, as this sort of hit me out of nowhere. It’s now Sunday (edit: it’s now Monday), and I’m writing this as I’m working on giving my new chapter one final read-through without an extra set of eyes to reassure me that it doesn’t suck ahead of time. (edit: Fic is now posted, and I just finished reading it AFTER posting it, and the amount of little errors and bits I needed to change was astronomical. But! Feeling much better now).

In the event that I do continue on solo, I’ve reminded myself that I wrote my entire first fic in less than a year, I did it without a beta’s eyes, I was depressed, and it was two hundred thousand words long! I can do this, damn it.

I’ll concede that writing was easier back then — not because I felt more creative or capable, but because I didn’t overthink every word choice and utterly obsess over the structure of every last sentence. I just wrote. I’ve dedicated a lot of time and self reflection to getting that magic and confidence back, and these last few weeks, I feel like I finally mostly got it. It’s a bummer to be down a beta, but I’m still here, still driven to finish this story this year. Hopefully sooner rather than later. And I am excited about it! 

Everything below this was where I got a little carried away with the whole "unrelated journal entry-ness" of it all. 💀

My mental health has never been better. I can recognize now that, when I thought it was great at random points these last few years, it was just because of the rare windows where it wasn’t awful. This year, I can honestly say that I have not been depressed. I get anxious about things, but the thing that’s holding me back is no longer crippling sadness. It’s more insecurity and imposter syndrome, which I recognize I have to figure out how to overcome if I’m ever going to become an author. And it’s going well… but I still have a lot of work to do on myself. 

The other thing I’ve recognized I have to overcome is my inability to finish fics like I once did. This is the story I’m currently most driven to finish, and am therefore dedicating nearly all of my creative energy towards it. My other most popular WIP (Fated to Stay) is also there waiting to be completed, but I’m waiting for ovulation to begin… For obvious reasons, of course. 😂 That’s not a fic I want to touch when I’m at a slightly meh part of my cycle, if you catch my meaning. It deserves advanced horniness.

Anyway, thank you for being patient!

[colourstreakgryffin]

Hi! Love the demon Mui au. Your writing is always on point! Can I request more of this please? What if Mui ends up getting seriously injured during a fight with some Hashira & when Koku gets to him, he slips & accidentally calls Koku ‘dad’? 🥹

Oh? Well. I kinda thought I’d never see this little AU-thing but okay! I will definitely try something!

Kokushibo- Surprises After Surprises

Dropping to knees whilst bright ruby blood pooled onto the floor beneath, Muichiro tensed his jaw as his eyesight slowly returned to him. His body was chipped apart and it didn’t look good for him; sliced off wrist, amputated legs, torn apart head whilst it all regenerated at a slower pace then one of his level should

Muichiro was seriously bored with staying put in him and his Sensei’s luxurious but wild living quarters and upon getting Kokushibo’s blessing, he was free to go out at the blackest of nights to explore. However, his tranquil experience was cut short after he came across a Hashira, a title and person he use to be. Before he was converted, so he knew to never underestimate Hashira

The poor boy was in a rough shape as the enemy Hashira rose their katana in a quick motion, ready to decapitate his head and take away his life whilst his vision blurred in a second with how it adjusted to the light, the first thing he saw was the bright silver steel of a Nichirin Katana approaching him

The Hashira’s mighty attack was interrupted as both of their mortal arms all-the-sudden dropped to the floor in splashes of delicious smelling blood. A deep intimidating voice echoed out, alerting Muichiro that he was in safe grounds. Kokushibo popped into existence before the two, a invisible barrage of dices torn the Hashira into mere pieces before they could respond to their arm amputation

Muichiro looked up at his saviour with relief flooding his mint green eyes. He was holding himself off very well for a long time but the Hashira simply overpowered him, without Kokushibo’s presence materialising before him, he would have certainly met his fate. He kept his mouth shut whilst his mentor begun speaking, sheathing his katana in a smooth sweep and ignoring the pile of mangled human remains

“This is why… you shouldn’t… have left our… comfortable mansion” Kokushibo scolded firmly, his composed and gentle voice didn’t change despite the fact he was taking the rights means to discipline his student for his recklessness. Muichiro was truly beyond lucky that Kokushibo followed him from the shadows, the fact he didn’t notice him annoyed him. Was he not learning all the lessons he freed up the time to teach him

“I’m sorry, Father—“ Muichiro tensed up in pure shame at what he just heard himself say outloud as Kokushibo kneeled down, reaching equal height, to better check his student’s healing progress, the Upper Moon 1’s six eyes widened in sync at the shock he felt. Father? That’s ridiculous, he is a mentor, a teacher. He had no blood connection to the newer demon, such a idea is bizarre

“Father?” Kokushibo repeated back the boy’s word in confusion as Muichiro hung his head slightly, embarrassed at his slip up as he knew Kokushibo would react negatively to it. He has messed up when he should never mess up, the taller demon is strict and suspects his student to never make a mistake with all the teachings he has given to him

“Thousand apologies, Sensei. That was a fault of mine, ignore it” Muichiro responded in that composed professional manner Kokushibo taught him, raising his head with a new fleet of confidence to gaze his superior in the middle eyes, he knew exactly what pair he needed to follow; the ones with the visible Kanji branded in

“It’s… fine. We’ll train… that habit… out” Kokushibo responded as he used a hand to lift Muichiro to his feet. His amputated leg and wrist healed ages ago but that shock threw off his concentration, he didn’t realise until far too late and felt a trace of shame at himself for not noticing it sooner. He retracted his slightly inching palm and stood back up, his incredible height towering the younger demon as Muichiro rose up, waiting patiently to be led back to the safety of the palace

“You fought well… my student”

[terresdebrume]

Messrs Payne and Rowland's Adventuring Agency

Part 1: The Arrival of Young Crystal - 23

Getting there! This is going to get some SERIOUS revisions before it ever goes near AO3, but the general idea is built and at 13k some for the draft, I'm guessing it'll be a decent sized story xD Now, if someone could tell my gdoc to behave and stop pretending like I didn't write a couple thousands of new words in that whole Crystal & Charles v the early supermarket shift session, that would be great.

It's surprising how fast some things become familiar. They found an alleyway at the edge of the residential areas, calm but not quite deserted, and they're waiting for Mr. Payne to finish his incantations with a game of boulder parchment shears that Crystal is, as usual, winning with almost frustrating ease.

She'd have less luck if Charles actually paid attention to it, but at this point she's come to expect the way he keeps an eye on the mouth of the alley and another on Mr. Payne, always on the loukout for danger. Crystal is leaning against the wall beside him, aching and tired and looking forward for her not-a-treehouse of a room, with its comfy bed and its soft light. She is also, despite Charles' best efforts, still pissed.

"It's just not fair," she whispers angrily, trying to angle her mouth away from Mr. Payne, just in case now is the time he decides to pay attention to her again. "I don't even know how I did what I did! It's not like he can't learn combat spells in his precious books."

"You're really convinced he's jealous of you, aren't you?" Charles chuckles, and turns back to the front of the alley just in time to miss the flat stare Crystal throws his way.

Shouldn't he see it too? He said he and Mr. Payne have been partnered for longer than Crystal has been alive. Presumably. So how can he not see the way Mr. Payne grimaced every time Crystal's magic came up after their fight against the sea creature? Well, maybe he sees it and he's just trying to sweep it under the rug, but somehow Crystal doesnt think so. It would seem too... well, too underhanded, from what she's seen of Charles so far.

"I can't think of any other reason for the hostility," she says. "Other than him being a stuck up ass."

"You have to be a little patient," Charles says, finally turning back to fully look at her. "We haven't had anyone stay with us this long before-I know you don't remember right now, but most people would be unnerved at having an unexpected guest stay in their home indefinitely."

Crystal winces and looks away from Charles. He's not wrong. She is an imposition, she doesn't need her memories to realize that, but where the fuck else is she supposed to go? She has no idea where she's from, or what she can do aside from hitting things hard and apparently hurting them with her mind, it's not exactly the kind of skillset the city seems to need. Even if it were, well. It's not like she's seen an abundance of women in the city guards--there are some, yes, but not many, and all older than her. She can't sit on a bench until she's old enough to join.

"Ah," Charles says as the door of the agency clicks open. "Here we go."

He follows Mr. Payne inside, leaving Crystal literally on the outside looking in. The walls show the dark green of the office, always the first room they see upon arrival, which kind of makes sense. It's elegant and no nonsense, but not austere, at least not unless Mr. Payne decides to make it so. There's a sense of personnality in it, Charles' trinket mixed with his colleagues' books and manuals, and after almost two weeks coming back to it every night, Crystal has to admit there's a comfort in seeing it, too. She wonders if that's what it feels like for them. Coming home. She wonders if there's a place out there that'll give her the same feeling twenty years from now.

"You will have to make a choice eventually," Mr. Payne calls out, appearing in Crystal's field of vision like a particularly miffed ghost. "If that could happen sooner rather than later, we would all be quite grateful."

Crystal rolls her eyes and steps in, carefully hiding the small pinch of relief when the spell lets her in again. She bites her gauntlets off, first, then gets started on the rest of her buckles with a grunt of annoyance. Charles said she'd get better at it, but it's been a couple of days and frankly, right now she's not seeing it. At least she mostly figured out how not to snag her hair when she takes her breastplate off, but that doesn't prevent her from glaring at Charles when he comes in and chuckles at her.

"Shut up," she grumbles, stepping into the office and going straight for the bookshelves.

[for-d2b48c]

Before I say anything, I just want to say that I was listening to that song you sent while I was on my trip back home. It just feels like a warm hug from you. 

The thing about reading your message is that I always cry when I read it. I even cried before writing this but I need to calm down first so I can type my sincerest thoughts. That’s why I need to act cool about it at first and take it all in before saying what I really felt or else I’ll just say I love you too a thousand times while crying. Maybe the reason why I said thank you right after you said those words to me is because I know you don’t always express yourself easily to anyone so being that honest and raw with me is just something I was thankful for. Because of that, it’s my turn to be honest, raw and cringe. 

Remember when I used to say that I just want to be somebody to you, it also means that I was already accepting the fact that maybe I can only be a friend or even lesser than that and I’m okay with it as long as I’m with you even though I know that I want us to be more than that right from the start. There would be times that I would think I’m stupid for accepting things the way they are but I just can’t stand to be away from you. I keep repeating to myself that I need to be strong so I can take care and be there for you because I love you. Maybe that’s why I was so taken aback when you said those things because I was prepared for the worst. Looking back on it, being pessimistic is not something to be proud of so now, I want to apologize for that. Even now, I can’t stop thinking about the what-ifs because I’m scared of losing you. What if I can’t hold your love in the best way you deserve? What if my best is not enough? What if we just let our fickle minds control us? What if the future will not treat us well? There are so many days to count to call it a lifetime and surely there will be good and bad ones but whenever I think about you and the things that you will bring to my life is just something so good that it just brings me tears, I love you so much. Being with you just makes all of my worries go away. I’ll be the luckiest person if you’re going to be my pillar and I’ll try my best to be one too for you and even for us. 

I said in that tumblr blog that I’m lucky that I met you but I’m luckier to be known by you. I don’t know why but I need to thank you for being you. I already said this before but I will never get tired of reminding you how amazing and wonderful person you are. I even admire how you wrote your message at 5am yet it came out so well written. I love that you are bringing the best in me. I love how you perceive things with your smart nerdy brain. I love how loser you are even if I believe that I’m the most loser one in us. I just love you the most when you’re being you. 

One of my favorite things you said in the notebook you gave me is the one where you shared about the old couple you met. I remember that when you mentioned marriage in your message. It’s funny because I’m scared of thinking about the future yet here I am talking about marriage. I guess you will be the one to teach me about taking things slow or fast. I never said this and I should have brought this up sooner but I have never been in a relationship. I met people but it was never serious and I didn't even come far. I experienced a lot of rejections that’s why having someone who felt the same way is surreal for me. I don’t know where we will go after this but one thing that I’m sure about is I want to be a friend to you who can listen to the smallest and biggest things you want to share and I want to be your girlfriend or lover who will be there for you no matter what and give everything you ask for. But the most important thing is that I want you to feel safe and loved, and grow as the person you always wanted to be so please tell me how can I help. I know relationship as a topic will take a lot of talking but I promise that I’ll always try to understand everything and be better, I love you so much, my tan.

[vixnovacoda]

The Cure We Seek || Chapter 3

Astarion x f!Tav

Word Count: ~2.2k

Summary: Set after the events of the Mindflayer tadpoles and the Netherbrain, Astarion and fellow companion Nemeia spent years in search of a cure for the free vampire spawn where they have taken to settling down within their splendid city of Baldur's Gate and trying to establish a life of normalcy for themselves in a world that aims to constantly work against them as a dark past threatens the couple's peace.

A/N: Going to be going on hiatus for a couple of weeks for personal writing. Will be back soon with more!

[Chapter 1][Chapter 2]

[AO3]

Nemeia

Permitted and answering the mustered call of trouble, Nemeia took to the winds. The last-minute attached silken cape draped and billowed behind her, moss fraying from the edges of the recently acquired – yet already claimed by nature (fascinating how fast it works on its own accord when around so much death) – fabric as they hurried down cobblestone streets, and Gandrel taking lead. Blurred became the onlooker’s faces upon their breakneck speed. Age may have begun to play its part on her, but a lifetime of running had her barely breaking a sweat in comparison to the long grey-hair-streaked allied monster hunter as he heaved and hoed his body down steep incline after steep incline. In another decade's time, he’d probably be better off retiring. While Nemeia’s only retirement from this form of life will likely come in death’s fearsome, beautiful shape.

   She didn’t fear that fate. Won’t run to or from by then either. It’s an impossible feat when you’re expecting it. So, for now, she runs to someone who cannot and can do her part in time for dinner. After all, to her, it’s just another day in the life of a Baldurian hero, an adventurer and (her preferred) druid.

   “When are you planning on telling me who is after this child, by the way, Gandrel?” called out Nemeia, patience wearing thin with the mystery. It was a trait she was beginning to suspect learning from Astarion. He really had rubbed off on her in more ways than one.

   “When there are no ears around every bend and wall,” he responded.

   “And if someone suddenly attacks us, what then?” she countered.

   “Then you will know who to look out for going forward in that hypothetical, which I assure you will likely not happen… if we are fast enough,” retorted Gandrel and she disliked him a little more, which is to say that she never did before. The sudden need for secrecy was eating at her. She understood the probable reason for why, but, still, curiosity gets to everyone and she would rather head into a problem knowing all she could first. Perhaps if she had been more prepared for the inhabitants of the Abyss plane then he’d be less wounded and she would be closer to finding his cure. The last thing she wants is a repeat of events here and now.

   Taking one step ahead, Nemeia passed him with her eyes checking every inch and shadow in front of them. “I prefer you when you’re direct and honest, less vague.”

   Gandrel gave a small displeased chuckle. “So do I, my friend. But it is not without importance.”

   “Doesn’t mean you cannot spare some proper manners. It’s been some months after all,” she scoffed.

   “Is that why Astarion does not like me still? My uncouth behaviour?”

   “… I suspect it is for a multitude of reasons, I’m afraid.”

   “Yet you don’t entirely.”

   “Keep up the ambiguous act and hello-less greetings every time we meet and that might sooner change.”

   Salt clung in the air with damp humidity as the seedy raucous dock life came at them in waves of merchants, traders and fishermen. A steady stream of people going one way that Nemeia and Gandrel defied. Stifled, Gandrel kept his head afloat above it all. “Well, he should know by now how, like you, I honour my word and have taken a new perspective on the monsters I hunt.” A second chance given at the drop of a hat when thousands of undead lives were spared. One self made choice that put an end to a cycle of abuse; put Astarion above the monster that originally turned him; proved that, when given a chance, not all monsters are monsters. Which made Nemeia ponder what might have happened had Astarion sacrificed all those lives in the end, his kin, the children. Nothing good, she was sure. This was better. This life he deserved; the life he never got to have. “He should know I mean no harm,” Gandrel repeated in a bewildered state, manoeuvring through the early crowd.

   “Such things take time,” became her sage old answer, “meanwhile, I am aware, which shall have to do until then.” She pushed her own way through, dodging fish-filled barrels and yelling crew members like a prowling cat on a mission.

   The noise lessened and the puddles became grimier as the two peeled off into an alley between two tall steel buildings where the path forced those to hunch in order to navigate under shadowy guidance. Turning corners, they no sooner approached a derelict warehouse with aged windows and bordered up entrances. One could only assume it was abandoned had they not already been expecting to find anyone. It probably even had empty crates left-over from some long forgotten trade. The perfect hiding spot.

   With applied caution, Gandrel tore loose planks free off one of the doors and motioned for Nemeia to follow as he slipped past, shifting the weight of his feet for a lighter, harmless approach. “Child?” he called and mice scurried across the open, box scattered, and skylight illuminated floor. “It is I. I brought the associate of mine I told you about, the druid. She has offered to help you.”

   Metal rafters squeaked.

   Their heads snapped to above where a faint shape crouched. Small-ish. Further high up than should be feasible. While Gandrel seemed unfazed, Nemeia tilted her head, bewildered. In fact, he smiled warily and spoke, “Come now. It’s safe, you have my word.”

   “How on Silvanus’ rooted earth…” she muttered beneath her breath as the figure lurked deeper into shadow, walked down a nearby wall without nay a hand and dropped beside a stack of crates. All the while a pair of graphite eyes stayed on her like a skulking predator monitoring their prey. Nemeia had heard some about Dhampir and their abilities that set them not far apart from their vampire heritage, how they could walk wrong side up walls etcetera, but had never bore witness to one. If she was being honest, initially she had scarcely believed Gandrel meant a real Dhampir and thought his quarry was either fully mortal or undead, and went along no matter what for the sake of a child’s life. Yet, here approached, a child stuck between the world’s scales. Not exactly undead, not exactly alive. Her pale flesh did not even crisp when entering the sunlight where revealed were her worn and muddied little feet and sanguine-crusted black hair, shirt and trousers. She was a mess, that much was certain.

   Pity swallowed rocks in Nemeia’s stomach as she could smell the horrors the half-elven, half-vampire child might have borne. One too many encounters with blood brought ideas that her clothes weren’t previously this red-tinged shade of black. Whether they were because of her or not, though, was not certain. Bringing herself down to her height, Nemeia extended out a hand, beckoning the child closer, and closer she came. Her chest rose and fell at the rapid beat of rain battering against drums. The child shook, not quivered, and appeared smaller, not taller – in fact, she could not have been older than nine years old – and her grey eyes stared widely, glistening wet with frightful tears. These were no acts of a predator, she was prey through and through.

   Nothing to fear. There was only a child.

   The girl – as hunched and frail as she was would have disappeared into a thin blob if one viewed her from the wrong angle – looked frantic between Gandrel and Nemeia like a fawn awaiting their parent’s permission to cross the field one final time. Wordless, he nodded, and the small hand took hers. This could work , thought Nemeia and she offered a small smile in kindness. This could work . “What’s your name?” she requested.

   A hushed lilt came from the girl in an answer. “I don’t remember.”

   “You don’t have a name?”

   “I–I don’t remember.” Head hung, her voice trembled.

   Seeking confirmation, Nemeia briefly eyed Gandrel.

   “That’s how I found her. She wouldn’t tell me much, only what I already informed you of,” he responded.

   “Alright then. That’s alright.” she turned back to the nameless girl. “Let’s start with my name then. I’m Nemeia Acunín.”

   Attention caught, she steadied her crystal gaze at Nemeia, the white-tipped horns, the tail and all else that indicated her infernal bloodline. “But that’s…”

   “Elven? The druid who took me in offered ‘Nemeia’ to me when I didn’t know my own name either while the other half belongs to my husband. Maybe one day, we will be able to find you a name of your own if you’d like.” She gave the tiny hand a gentle squeeze.

   But the girl did not respond.

   “I’m here to help you, okay? No harm will come to you for as long as it takes to find you a new, safe home.”

   “Nemeia here has guided many others already. There is no one better that you would be safest with, child,” chipped in Gandrel, and the little girl only stared her down, peering with deep intent as if she were looking into her soul.

   Suddenly, the girl broke the spell of silence. “Who is Arilune ?”

   And a sweet smile turned sour at the hidden claws wrapped around Nemeia’s hand. ‘Arilune.’ Echoing, shattering, ringing throughout her thoughts like water droplets. The mere mention was enough to send an army of shivers up her spine. She hadn’t heard that name in a very long time, not since…

   Sloshing water loudened from the nearby docks, and Nemeia shot up. “Gandrel, the girl, who’s after her?” she demanded.

   Gandrel, though confused by her sudden switch, answered plainly, “a cult. Mainly one woman.”

   “Which cult?” Her hands tensed and dread made her sweat.

   “I.” He stopped himself. Never had he seen her this way. “Are you alright, Nemeia?”

   “Which cult?” Fear reduced her words to a shuddering shout.

   Taken aback, Gandrel mulled in the silence for what felt like an eternity before finally caving in. “A cult of Levistus. He’s some Archdevil, the last I heard,” said he, and all ran cold as recognition froze Nemeia – it wasn’t really recognition, familiarity more so, but dread at being right; at her worst imagining coming true. Pain tingled at the ends of her fingers while the world seemed planes away, and an icy breath burned her neck, ghostly, but present. “Thought you could evade me forevermore, did you, little druid?” reverberated a male voice which drew frost to form in the air beside her.

   She wanted to turn, to twist around, to face and retaliate, but she could not. It took all her willpower to defy the deal she had been a part of even now; her feet rooted to the ground. Without looking, she knew who it was with the utmost clarity. Nemeia could never forget the sole owner of her soul, the Archdevil whose worshippers hunt a young dhampir, Levistus.

   The Archdevil constrained her upper arms in a vice-like grip, and even though this moment was theirs and theirs alone – a haunting memory that felt too real – he brought himself to a whisper with the hiss of a viper, “Someone has been living comfortably for long enough, it seems they need a reminder towards their place on this world.”   

   Nemeia shook, trying, not so well, at breaking free, as vague noises blurred from her surroundings. Not again, no, cried Nemeia. Tears began blistering on the edges of her widened eyes. For years, she had run. For years, she had ‘freedom’. Finally, she had started to have a life of her own with people she loved and cared about. Now the man— the monster who chained her soul from an age-old, stupid deal made at death’s door and that tormented her as a puppeteer and his puppet, the very one she foolishly believed she could escape, was back and she could only imagine what more torture he would inflict at her pathetic retaliation.

   Except she didn’t need to imagine at all; she knew the warning. The memory was tucked far back, left to be forgotten. A pair of voices overlapped and pierced into the depths of Nemeia’s mind, male and female, Levistus and another, spoke at once, “I will take away everything you hold dear, then I shall take you and ruin you.” Vividly, fire. Burning. A place called home. Family inside. Levistus pushed the painted picture inside her mind, coating her eyes with the image, shoving the screams down her throat that once was nothing became specific, the home was hers, garden and all; the screams twisted pitch and turned recognisable, Astarion, burning alive in a house he could not escape under the light of day. She almost didn’t want to believe it, but the last time she didn’t was a mistake she could never forget. This was a fate she did not wish for anyone, let alone Astarion, especially not after all they’ve been through.

   Water froze on her cheeks and ash clogged up lungs with the neverending visage, till she tore free and bolted out of the place, completely ignorant to the calls shouted in her direction as Levistus left a lingering phrase behind from his frostbite grasp.

   “You are mine and I always get back what I own.”

   She runs, and runs, and runs, home on the horizon. Nothing else mattered.

   When Nemeia runs, it is not her death she fears when engulfed by the flames. It’s leaving the kind Astarion she got to meet behind, and that fear fueled her barefooted steps in their desperation to run faster than they’ve ever done. She would gladly approach death a thousand times and push it back if it meant the world had more time to spend with this version of the man she loved.

[starlit-clouds]

I hought I would finish this fic way sooner than I would, but alas August passed and it was not done then

On the bright side, I finally completed it!

Gonna post it soon after editing it, but imma do that in the morning because it is midnight for me and I am weak. But! I can give a sneak peek!

It’s called “Siblings in Spirit (And Paperwork)” and it has ALL of that Dad Fukuzawa(TM) content and contains PEAK Ranpo and Yosano sibling bonding. I’ll put a short snippet it under the cut that I was going to use parts of for the summary anyways!

————————

Word count: roughly 793

Timeline: Ranpo and Yosano are 15/16 and 14/15 respectively in this

—

“You should do it.”

“No way!” Ranpo protested immediately. He gestured widely towards the door to Fukuzawa’s office. While the glass was frosted in a way that he couldn’t see too far inside, he knew Fukuzawa was sitting at his desk. “You should do it!”

Yosano put her hands on her hips. “No. You.”

“No! You!”

“No. Y—” Yosano cut herself off and paused, thinking for a moment. “You know what? We’re getting nowhere with this. I say we both need to calm down and talk this through again.”

“‘We both need to calm down’? Yeah, right. I’m the one who’s being rational here. I think you need to take a moment to think things through.”

“Oh?” She crossed her arms. “And why do you think that?”

“Because you wrote the papers in the first place. So since you’re the one who wrote them, that means you should give them to him.” Ranpo the pointed to the papers in Yosano’s hand. “Plus, you’re already holding them.”

She huffed and shoved the papers into Ranpo’s hands. He was forced to grab onto them to prevent them from falling onto the floor. He attempted to force her to take them back, but when that failed, he settled for simply glaring at her.

“Those reasons don’t even make any sense. If we’re really going by who did what, then you should be the one to give him the papers,” Yosano reasoned. “I already did the work by writing them. You can do your part by giving them to him. It’s only fair.”

“But it’s not about what’s fair,” Ranpo claimed. He had started to try and give Yosano the papers back. He was failing. “It’s about what we need to do for the plan to work. And believe me, it absolutely pains me to say this but…” Ranpo’s tone indicated anything but. “It would be a thousand times better if you were the one to do it.”

“Now you’re just making things up. It would be better if you gave them to him.”

Ranpo stared at Yosano. “No. You.”

“No.” Yosano stared back at him. “We are not going back to that.”

“Yes, we are.”

“No.”

“Yes. And I think you should be the one to do it.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“You were here first,” Yosano blurted out.

“No— wait. What do you mean?” He squinted at her suspiciously. “What exactly is the point you're trying to make there?”

“Well, you’ve known Fukuzawa for longer than me. Obviously it would be better if you were the one who gave him the papers.”

“Yeah, but the whole point of this is that he doesn’t know what they’re for until it’s too late for him to change his mind, so we don’t need the emotional manipulation of me doing it,” Ranpo pointed out. “We’re meant to be discreet. Which really means you should be doing it.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. You’re normally the one who gives him all of the paperwork, so it would be suspicious if I was suddenly giving him papers to sign.”

Yosano stared at him. And stared. And stared some more.

She was still staring as she glared and took the papers from Ranpo’s hands.

Ranpo cheered. “Ha ha! Yeah, that’s right! You’re the one who’s doing it!”

Yosano glared even harder before she ignored him by turning to face the door. As she entered, Ranpo leaned up against the door with his ear pressed up against it.

Fukuzawa looked up as she entered. “Yes?”

“I have some documents you need to sign. Preferably as soon as possible. As well as while I watch,” Yosano stated as she strolled towards Fukuzawa’s desk.

She watched him closely as she put the documents in front of him. She flipped through some of the pages before she reached the end, pointing to a box at the end of the page.

“Sign right here. Please,” she added after a moment.

Fukuzawa picked up the papers and flipped them back to the front.

“Wait! What are you doing?!” Yosano quickly snatched the papers away from him.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m reading them over?”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” she rushed, absolutely not suspiciously at all. “You can just sign them without reading them.”

‘I’m pretty sure I should read documents before I sign them,” Fukuzawa said, sounding somewhat amused.

“Uhhh…” Time seemed to freeze as Yosano saw Fukuzawa begin to look back at the documents. And then she panicked. “I’m going to go now!” She announced. “And I’m taking these with me!”

Before Fukuzawa could read what the documents were about, she clutched them close to her chest and she whipped around to the door. She quickly hurried out of the room before things could get too awkward.

—

Or: Ranpo and Yosano try to trick Fukuzawa to sign adoption papers without him finding out until they’re already in effect. This goes as well as it could be expected.

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49812589

[thenextdawn-temporarilyclosed]

Blood Hungry

Part Two of One in A Million

Word Count: 2.0K

Summary: your parents turn you into a vampire and you go through a very hard phase of human blood hunger.

Warnings: blood

Pairing: Wednesday X Fem!Reader

This is for the people who had asked me for part two! I’m sorry if this disappoints you I just didn’t really know what to write, but I tried my best 🥲

———

After you moved to Nevermore, you did spend a lot of time with Wednesday, but you also spent it with Yoko and the other vampires. You needed to learn stuff, even if what they could teach you was limited. For now you shared your room with Wednesday and Enid since you knew Wednesday, and for the first period of time she would help you moving around. You were still kind of weak so she helped you shower and change and get in bed. You would have never thought that Wednesday had this side of her, but you definitely didn’t mind that. Though recently, she had to admit she was jealous. As you were taking your medicines she came to you and sat on your bed.

“Are you ignoring me?” The shorter girl asked you, and you looked at her confused “what? Why would I be ignoring you Nes?” You said as you sat down next to her. “I don’t know, you just rarely spend time with me anymore. You’re always with those vampires. I almost lost you too many times, I want to spend time with you” she said and you smiled slightly at her. “Nes, they’re teaching me stuff. It’s not like they’re better than you or anything like that, I promise. Though they drink animal blood and I’m sure it’ll be a lot different, since my parents drink human blood. They’ll probably get me used to it as well.” You shrugged “but I promise you I’m not ignoring you, okay? If you feel like I am then I’m so sorry, but we can go have a drink at the weathervane whenever you want. Okay?” She nodded and feeling a little bit more relieved, she went back to writing her novel.

The medicines you were taking were slowly working. You eventually got back on your feet, and your scar was healing too, you didn’t need the bandaid anymore. You were agreeing on your parents on when to turn you, and you would have to take a few days off school to get used to the new need. After talking to Weems about it and obviously she agreed, you went to Wednesday to talk about it. “Nes, tomorrow I’ll go home because my parents will finally turn me. I won’t have any more heart problems but I’ll need to take a few days off of school because I’ll have to get used to drinking blood and all of that” you started. She was in the middle of her writing hour so she didn’t even look at you.

“Great, okay.” You looked at her confused, not expecting an answer like that. “Is that all you have to say?” You asked with a sort of disbelief. “Are you going to spend more time with those grown up bats? Or better, are you going to be always with them?” She said, turning around to look at you. “What? Of course not Wednesday! I mean I will spend time with them because we do have something in common but I’ll still spend more time with you, because you’re my best friend!” You said, really not understanding why was she acting like this. “Yeah right, your best friend” she said almost mocking you, which made you upset. “Are you being serious right now Wednesday? You have always been my best friend ever since we were kids, why would I exchange you for someone I barely know?” You said, and she turned around to look at you.

“You weren’t my best friend when you were ignoring me for weeks.” You looked in her eyes and could see how upset she was. “Wednesday I already told you-“ you realized it was no use, so you raised your arms and let them drop on your sides. “You know what? Guess I’ll leave a day sooner. See you when I get back” you grabbed your suitcase and left, luckily you had prepared it already. You asked Weems to let you go sooner and she did, so you were soon at your parents. They made sure thousands of time that you really wanted to do this, of course you did. You were so tired of always having to have surgeries to fix an unfixable problem, so they turned you. Your mother was the one to do so.

When you woke up for the first time and opened your eyes, they were bright red. You were hungry, and they immediately gave you human blood, which you thought tasted amazing. You practiced going in public with your parents and it was really hard because you kept smelling blood everywhere, luckily they taught you how to keep self control, you managed to control yourself but not for long and that worried you. You wanted to be able to be near to Wednesday without feeling the need of her blood.

Soon enough you returned to school, and the first ones to greet you were of course the vampires. Yoko was the first one to ask you how you felt, and you explained everything to her, how you felt when you first woke up. Only problem was, the blood they give you in school is animal blood, and as of now you can’t have that. Then Wednesday came up to you. “How did the turning go?” She asked as she looked at you. You tilted her head to a side “oh now you care?” You asked her, hands on your sides “I’ve always cared-“ you stopped her before she could continue. “You didn’t seem to care when just three days ago you were telling me that I wasn’t your best friend” she stayed quiet at that. “I’m sorry-“ she then said. “Are you, Wednesday? Tell me, are you sorry? The world doesn’t revolve around you and I’m allowed to have other friends aside from you. I never had that in my life and neither did you, you should try this” you said and walked away with Yoko and the others.

The following days went by smoothly, your studies did, and Wednesday didn’t bother you anymore. Little did you know that she was trying to find a way to apologize to you. She knew she had exaggerated. She truly cared for you, but she never meant for you to feel like you couldn’t have friends aside from her. She would stare at you from the other side of class and would get nervous when she saw you too affectionate with someone else. After a while, your days weren’t so smooth anymore. You had tried drinking the animal blood, buy you would always throw that up. It was disgusting and as much as you tried drinking it, it just wasn’t working.

One day after class you were heading to your room who you now shared with Yoko and Wednesday noticed that you seemed weaker than usual. “(Y/N), are you okay? You seem weak. Are you drinking your blood?” She felt weird asking it, as much as she would like to see the scene she knew it wouldn’t be a good sight. “Do I look like I am?” You asked, turning around to see her. “All this school gives us is animal blood. And I can’t drink that, not now that I’ve just turned” you said as you kept on walking to your room. “Well you could take some from me” she said without hesitance “no, forget that. Get this thought out of your mind” you said and kept walking away from her. “Why not? If you need it so bad then take it” she insisted. “I said NO Wednesday! I can’t control myself yet” you said and finally got to your room, locking her outside. She sighed once again and walked away, she felt as if she was loosing her best friend.

A couple more days passed and you didn’t go to school. You kept smelling blood everywhere and you didn’t want to hurt someone. One night you decided to go to the woods to try and clear out your nose from smelling all that blood and you did, for a while. You suddenly smelled a very strong smell of blood. You went where your nose led you and you found a guy, victim of the monster everyone was talking about. He was dead and you thought that no one would see if you took some blood. So you knelt down next to him and bit into his neck, taking all the blood you needed. You didn’t hear footsteps approach until a blinding light shined on you. You pulled away from the guy and it was cops. Blood drooling down your lips as you raised your hand up.

“U-uh… okay. This is not what it seems like. I have not killed this guy, he was already dead! I just took advantage to feed myself with his blood. I promise I have nothing to do with it.” You said trying to justify yourself. The sheriff moved his torch from you to the guy and noticed the cut in his stomach and the missing arm. “Don’t worry, we know it wasn’t you.” He then proceeded to explain everything to you and then he took you back to school, where you were taken straight to Weems’s office. “You know that getting out of school after curfew is a reason to get you suspended right?” The principal told you, as you nodded and looked down. “Then why were you out?” She asked for the millionth time. “I told you, I was trying to find some human blood! I can’t just go bite random people and here you have just animal blood! What about the vampires that only drink human blood, huh?” You told her and watched as she stayed quiet.

“It’s not fair! It’s not like we go and kill people to take their blood! You should have human blood here too, maybe you could have a day in the week where everyone donates their blood because otherwise the vampires like me won’t survive here and that is absolutely not correct” you gave Weems no time to reply because you quickly left her office and went to your room. You hadn’t drank much blood from the guy so you were still thirsty, but at some point you heard a knock on the door and went to open it, only to find Wednesday with a blood bag in her hands. “Where did you get it!?” You immediately took it from her and checked it to see what type it was. “I may have done a little trip to the hospital and had Thing help me steal some” she told you, which made you look at her and then back at the bag.

You made a little opening on it and immediately started chugging it down. You were so hungry and this was just perfect. A few drops of blood getting out and dirtying your chin and throat and she looked at them rolling down. When you were done you licked your lips and looked at Wednesday “thank you so much, I really needed it” you said and smiled it at her. She walked closer to you and wiped the drops of blood. “I’m sorry” you heard her say, and tried not to smile. “It’s okay. You made up with this bag of blood” you told her and in the end you did smile. “See you tomorrow in school?” She asked and you smiled “yep!”

Tags: @neon-lights-27 @dreifhraniquo29

[everafterkeiji]

Hi can i request a hcs for itadori,megumi and gojo react to their s/o death?.

Please Feel free to ignore this request if its triggering or u don't feel like writing it! Thank you<3

i love angst requests so it's really okay with me! thank you so much for requesting (ngl i did cry thinking abt yuji) and i hope u have a lovely day even if this was incredibly sad

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇

PAIRINGS: JJK BOYS x gn!reader

CHARACTERS: Itadori Yuji, Megumi Fushiguro, & Gojo Satoru

WORD COUNT: 2.7K

WARNINGS: heavy angst, character death, mentions of blood and panic attacks, as well wounds and bruises. mentions of Shibuya arc/implied location in Shibuya during that arc.

⟡ 𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈 eyes dared to erase the sight ahead of him, his body was frozen—every sense began to fail for its purpose and nothing else was responsive except for the shout of your name that echoes through the battle field, the level of immensity to his voice that covers his throat with pain as every pace towards you was a step leading to a waste of a second that terrifies him the more his being tugged away by his own fears.

Dropping to his knees, he was numb to the sensation of the ache overwhelming his legs while he craddles you in his arms as every part of him shook with uncertainty, his hands didn't have the courage to hold you with as much as strength as he should've.

"..Y/N?" He whispers, a croak to his voice as if it was barely alive with droplets created from his sorrow began to trail down your cheek whilst your blood paints his hand in a hue he never expected to come from you. His mind was in the midst of being empty to a havoc that wanted to deny every rage in his system so he could love you even if he could tell how your chest wasn't rising the way it was supposed to do.

"Love?" Yuji calls out one more time as your eyes flutter subtly, signalling him not even an assurance for your state. His hand falls to your cheek, not caring if he couldn't hold you weakly because what matters more is that you held onto him. He painfully leans his forehead on yours, a loud sob escaping him with a struggle to catch up with his breath.

"Don't let me go, don't ever leave me, I beg of you, God!" He shouts as the gods grow concerned of the boy whose heart was wrecked to every piece as the sky began to cry with him. "Save them— God— Please! Stop taking everyone that I love and let me come with them." He begs, as he pulls you more as if the distance could've helped him better because even when you were close to him, he knew you were already at the farthest place that he couldn't reach. All that could be heard from him were screams where he forfeited ever begging for your life when everyone around seems to follow in your path.

"I'm so sorry, my love." Itadori confesses, arms tight around your figure as every beat of his heart began to die with you when all the seconds that he seemed to waste without you by his side began to haunt him. If he had gotten there sooner, maybe then he could've reminded you one more time that you were the energy—the surviving light in his life for him to exist without being told of his faith.

"I love you—so much so please remember that even when you're away." He couldn't even explain how his words manage to fall in such a manner, he could've sworn a second ago he only wanted to let time freeze so he could deny the view of your lifeless body that he miserably failed to save from the hands of death.

"I promise you, in the end, I'll be with you soon, Y/N." Itadori places a delicate kiss to your forehead, having no courage to leave the contact of your skin to his as his eyes went with the rain that poured over the two of you. He intertwines one of his hands with yours, shivering at the temperature he faces but with the other hand, he rests it on his cheek. Maybe if you looked at him now, you'd want him to smile because if you were the source of his reason to exist, Yuji's smile was the one to let your hearts worries disappear but sadly, the source has been removed from him and nothing else in the world could ever bring the joy in his smile no more.

"All I've ever wanted to do was to love you, so I hope you're willing to wait because when I see you.. I'm gonna embrace you with everything I've got," He then kisses the hand intertwined to his before he achingly pull his hand away and the regret closing on him but he had no other choice.

"And love you again and again, Y/N. Always and.. forever—like what we promised." Yuji, as torturous it was to let you go, he sets your hand that was on his cheek to your chest just like he did with the other before he ends his goodbye with a lasting kiss to your cheek.

"Stop crying, Yuji! C'mon smile for me, will you? I didn't come here to see you all gloomy."

And with the remaining memories left for him, it began to be the weak strings for his heart to compose itself because if he knows one thing that you hated, it was the sight of him crying.

So he smiles, the everlasting wish of yours being granted even if his body was corrupting as the love of his life enters a new realm where forever was possible for the both of you.

"We'll meet again, my love."

As he stood up, he hesitates to turn his back on you but once he does, the sun never looked the same to him ever again.

⟡ 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈 encounters a feeling that he's been through before—a course of emotions that has his body in a tight hold but now, it seems the hold on him was deadlier than the first time. Your name had left his lips, draining him of his exhaustion to run to you before you could fall, every fiber in his body was holding on to his fear. He didn't need to feel the ache in his legs that were covered in wounds because his mission was for you to perfectly land in his arms even if he had to risk getting more injuries.

His heart began to pace in frantic pace when he catches you, there wasn't a split second of joy that entered him just because he made it in time. Instead, his eyes widen in trauma at the sight of your dull eyes that looked above to the heavens sky.

"Hey—hey!" He shouts, trembling hands feeling every bit of your skin and ends with it down to your cheek. "Talk to me—anything, please!" Megumi pleads as a drop of your blood that came from your forehead started to flow onto his skin. He gulps with his breathing unable to coordinate with him as his head frenetically looks up, any sign of help could've been the better reach but they were just in the mere corner of a building in Shibuya.

"Y/N? Please say something." He whispers, furiously wiping his tears while he despises the warmth of your blood that paints his hands. "C'mon please, let me hear your voice one last time." He sobs on your shoulder, embracing you with every corrupting piece of his heart, looking for a beat from your rather cold ones. His hands go to your hair, caressing it so lightly that he felt it resembled glass from how careful he was. Your head was buried in his neck, eyes barely awake for him to ever find that heartbeat.

"I love you, did you hear me?" Megumi says, gulping in the grief. "Say it back to me like you always did, please?" He doesn't know that begging would've been his lasting choice—maybe someone up above would take some time to listen to his pleads and eventually bring the life to his lovers body once again for you to say you love him back a thousand times more.

"Hug me one more time, will you? You told me you loved to do that." He desperately wishes your arms could just return to the place he loved, wrapped around his neck as his hands were to be on your waist or to your cheek with a smile to your lips. Unfortunately, your arms were covered in their own bruises—latched with dark purple hues and tints of red from the debris of buildings and cursed spirits.

"We have to go, Megumi!" One of the sorcerers shout, he didn't even have the time to decipher who it belonged to but he sniffles, reaching for his phone typing a quick message to the others to be able to take you out of this place with somewhere more deserving of a beauty that has passed.

"I'm not going to say goodbye because I know you'll always be with me, right Y/N?" He takes your hands, placing it on your chest on top of each other as his tear lands on your temple. He softly wipes it away before he kisses your forehead, closing his eyes shut at his misery.

"I wish I could've saved you. I really wish I did." He sobs, forehead in tact with yours but he seems to receive a sensation to his body at the wind that came his way.

"You've saved me the minute you met me, my love." You wish you could've whispered to him but he took it as the wind was the only embrace he'll ever get now.

"And you saved me too." Panda walks in to this horrid scene as he feels the sympathy rush to him. Megumi looks up at him with the liveliness dying along with you as your lover delicately holds your cheek one last time before kissing you on your temple muttering one more time,

"I love you always."

Standing up was the second hardest thing he had to do because turning his back to you came at first as his knees threatened to fall but alas, he has to do continue on because that's what you would've wanted right?

"I love you, Megumi. I'll be here waiting for you."

And the upcoming battles for him to face were laced with rage and the never ending bitterness that love seemed to haunt him with.

⟡ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎's phone rang as while he stops to stare at the caller. It was odd for him to receive a phone call from Megumi at this hour but he supposed it was probably for some guidance since they were sent to a mission. Being aware of their location, he didn't hesitate to transport as fast as he could to get there but there's this calling to him how it wasn't bound to be what he expected.

Panting heavily, Megumi ran with life on the line as he carried you in his arms without the ability to pace your breathing the same as his.

"GOJO-SENSEI!" He shouts with every power in his lungs the second Gojo had appeared, who stood stunned at the boy who was approaching him with a familiar figure.

"Y/N?" Satoru says, uncertain of what he just saw but when Megumi reached him, out of his breath as Nobara and Itadori followed behind him. His student places you in your lovers arm as he kneels down with a hand to your chest, alarmed at how your heartbeat was nowhere near notice. Fushiguro could see the worry in the mans eyes as he bites his lip in sympathy before telling the two to spare a moment for the so called strongest sorcerer who was now on his knees for only one person.

"We saw them being followed by a cursed spirit but they led Y/N to a trap." Megumi briefly explains as Gojo could only spare him a nod as your eyes would flutter once a while as the three students let them be.

"I warned you, didn't I?" He says, a low whisper as your hand weakly reach for his blindfold while Gojo's own rhythm of a heartbeat began to ache. Once he felt how you raised it with a cough of blood spoiling his uniform as his expression grow more frantic with every second.

"Hey there, pretty. You mind staying with me for a little longer?" He asked as if your ears were as attentive as it were before when his eyes stared back at your dazed ones. You didn't respond which was troubling him, what more was that your hand immediately dropped to your chest when he finally looked at you. A shakey sigh leaves Gojo while he rose, ready to fly you anywhere as long as you promised to stay.

"A little more please, can you do that for me?" He begs of you but instead, your head fell unconsciously in his arms with the threat of your eyes to close before he could ever look at you again, not too mention the flow of blood that came from your stomach that didn't seem to stop. He hasn't had the confidence to look at your body before because the fear on Megumi's face made him certain of how the damage had been rough on you. Up this close, he can see two massive wounds to your lower body as well as scratches on your forearms with some bruises on your wrist, hinting how their grasp on you was too strong compared to someone who was powerless.

The hue of his eyes appear to be less saturated than before and for the first time in the life of the honored sorcerer, his heart was irreparable and no amount of technique can reverse the way love his love for you had been the fault for your end.

Unknown to his own senses, his tears fall to your cheek as he pulls you closer like an embrace that didn't bring him his usual amount of comfort.

"Satoru, stop messing around!" You said as he spun you around, tight arms around his neck as he flew in the air, not bothering to listen to your protests of putting you down.

"I won't let you go, how could I ever do that to you?" He assures you, with his own arms tied to your waist with a bright smile on his face.

"And if I fall?" You asked him, glancing at the heights below you but Gojo only tucks a piece of hair behind your ear as you looked at him with the sun in your eyes since two lovers were up in the sky to reach for the clouds.

"I'll be there to save you."

But where was he when you fell from the skyscrapers?

"You hate me, I'm sure." He says biting his lip in agony as he buries his head to your chest, silent sobs and unsteady breaths coming from the sorcerer.

"I love you so much." Satoru breathlessly said. The head that was once on your chest began to move away when he heard nothing more than the silence that came from your heart. They were out to get you, how stupid was he to let you out of his sight just for a second? Maybe then he could've danced with you one more time, up in the sky for the two of you to conquer the heights of being in love.

"I'm so sorry, darling." He then kisses the side of your lip as his feet met in contact with the floor as the rest of the Jujutsu tech as Shoko lets out a saddened sigh.

"Wait for me okay? I'm not done loving you yet." He whispers to you one last time while he hands you over to Shoko as Megumi spares him a glance to notice how wretched his mentor looked.

"I have some things to do." Gojo announces, withstanding the grief to plot revenge to the ones who took you away from him as the rest didn't bother to object knowing there was no possible way to stop a man who had lost the love of his life in revenging your death. He disappears in a split second as the rest of the students didn't notice the tears that kept flowing from the person they look up to.

How can he be the strongest when he failed to protect his only weakness?

Until then, Gojo Satoru could only look at the sky to remember you since his infinity that he swore was to be spent with you died in his arms along with his lover.

[jungkxook]

—out of the blue. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader 

⟶ genre: youtuber/gamer!jungkook + fluff / smut 

⟶ words: 5,204

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: catching your boyfriend bleaching and dyeing his hair for a livestream is definitely not what you expected — but it certainly has its perks.

⟶ warnings: established relationship, some attempt at humour, .2 seconds of sort of sub jungkook (you just like seeing him on his knees), you call jungkook a good boy, shower sex, hair pulling, oral sex, face riding, standing sex, breast play, cum eating, doggy style, unprotected sex, creampie

⟶ note: because blue haired jungkook has me feeling all sorts of things. also dedicating this to the lovely ryen @kithtaehyung​ because blue haired jungkook is getting her too and i hope this helps!! and thank you to the wonderful @gamerkooks​ and @stanrandomthings​ for always giving me inspiration for gamer jungkook <3

“What the hell are you doing?”

Jungkook has less than a second to react when he hears you bursting through the door of his bedroom, a guilty expression plastered on his face as if you’ve caught him in the midst of a much worse act than what he’s already currently doing ━ but the flustered scowl deepening your countenance is enough for him to certainly feel that way, because how else is he supposed to casually explain why he’s currently sitting shirtless in front of a camera?

Admittedly, the sight is odd enough, and there’s a split moment where your incredulous look is enough to make him feel as if he’s wronged you, and your six month long relationship with him, entirely before he remembers that he didn’t actually do anything wrong like cheat on you, but is actually just trying to dye his hair.

He’s sat in his gaming chair, camera and lights set up around him, and the monitor of his desktop all recording his face to the hundreds of thousands of viewers currently watching his livestream. He had told you well in advance about his aim to do a twenty-four hour live broadcast for his subscribers to both raise money for a donation and to countdown to his next subscriber milestone with the help of his friends ━ and had even asked you to help him plan the event, discussing it animatedly with you for the past month on various occasions ━ but mainly just because Jungkook is crazy enough to sit through a twenty-four hour stream and call it fun.

You had known most of how the entirety of the day would go. Starting from noon the previous day to now, almost an hour before the stream ends, thus far he’s done various gameplays from Minecraft to Overwatch to Among Us simultaneously with his friends who had offered to marathon with him the twenty-four hour event; had a period of time in which Jimin and Taehyung were over and cramped in his room to answer questions and talk to viewers but mostly just to create absolute chaos. You had been there for most of it, though you’re still trying to figure out if it’s a blessing or a curse that you were suckered into paying rent for your three bedroom apartment by Taehyung more than a year ago, and subsequently falling madly in love with Jungkook and forcing you to aid in his antics. You’ve been in a handful of his videos before, appearing in Twitch and YouTube streams, and in the background of vlogs in his channel and the channels belonging to the other boys; and, on that day for Jungkook’s twenty-four hour event, you had joined him at the start before being dragged away for work and then tried to pull an all-nighter with him until you crashed on the couch in the living room, and checking in on him occasionally to give him food and water and to just generally make sure your boyfriend isn’t dead.

Now, with the remaining final hour dwindling down, you had been in your room trying to finish last minute essay writing for school, with your phone propped up on your desk and Jungkook’s livestream playing as background noise to your studying. One minute, he had been playing a round of Among Us, and the next, when you had glanced up, he had the bottle in hand and the detrimental blue dye coating his hair in slick globs. It wouldn’t have been so shocking, had you not seen Jungkook an hour ago when he had his natural dark hair still, and now he had somehow managed to sneak in bleaching his hair in the time you had left him. Maybe it was your fault for not catching it sooner, if only because you had sheepishly taken a small nap amidst your studying only to wake up to a nightmare.

Which is where that leaves you currently, dishevelled demeanour standing at the threshold of his door after chasing over to his room, watching as Taehyung helps Jungkook sufficiently ruin his beautiful hair which you love so much.

“Uh… Dyeing my hair?” Jungkook finally answers, dumbfounded. He’s fortunate he had pulled off his shirt to avoid getting hair dye on it, an old towel now draped around his shoulders to catch any excess mess. He adds brightly, “We asked for suggestions on how to end the stream and someone said I should dye my hair, so Tae got the stuff.”

“You bleached your own hair?” You retort, exasperated. “When the hell did all this happen? I’ve been next door to you the whole time! What if your hair falls out? You should’ve gotten a professional to do it, not Tae━”

Taehyung looks inexplicably offended by your slandering remarks on his (lack of) hair styling skills, retorting with, “Yo, what the━?”

Jungkook blinks, as if just being made aware of what he’s actually doing.

“My hair’s gonna fall out?” he gaps. “Guys, what the hell? Why’d no one tell me?”

He looks from you to Taehyung then over at the comments on his livestream which are currently flooding with the sole topic of you. His eyes snag the first few that appear to him in the frenzied influx of words:

uh oh jungkook’s sleeping on the floor tonight

oh shit run bro

f in the chat for jk’s hair

get him y/n!!!!

“Dude, she’s just being dramatic,” Taehyung waves you off. He ducks out of the way when you reach out to Jungkook’s bed for a pillow and chuck it at the older boy’s head.

“And when he’s bald, then what━”

“No!” A helpless Jungkook exclaims suddenly. He gestures wildly to the stream, “Don’t give them ideas. The edits are gonna start pouring in.”

“Jeon, look, it’s too late to go back now,” Taehyung says. “You’ve got half your head covered in dye and three minutes to go with the stream. How bad can it be?”

A groveling sigh eclipses your lips as you push yourself forward. “Then at least let me help before you ruin it completely.”

Jungkook’s fortunate, to say the least, though he’s left wondering if you’re truly upset with him.

He finishes the countdown to the end of his twenty-four hour stream with you and Taehyung putting the last remaining globs of dye on his hair, a heartfelt goodbye to his viewers who marathoned the stream with him, and a promise to update them on the status of his hair when he washes the dye out.

And, just as soon as he’s shut his camera off, the mundane world returns to him.

It’s no longer millions of anonymous and faceless viewers watching him from the other side of their screens in the tiny bubble that is his room, but just you and Taehyung and the older boy’s frisky little Pomeranian dog and the threat of a wallowing regret as Jungkook thinks to himself, what the hell did he truly just do to his hair?

At some point, Taehyung retreats to his girlfriend’s house taking Yeontan with him, leaving you alone with Jungkook and he basks in the sudden cozy quiet after twenty-four hours of madness as the adrenaline rush begins to fade and mellow out. Back aching, joints cracking and popping as he stretches and moves, and eyes burning in the similar way they do from having stared at a screen for too long, but tenfold, he craves nothing more than to find your sweet and comforting touch to end such a long day.

He finds you in the living room already scrolling through your phone and your Twitter feed to read and marvel at all the comments and memes made by his viewers during his stream and his heart threatens to burst through his chest because you’ve always been so supportive of him and his fans, and they’ve always adored you and your endless interactions with them. So, surely, you can’t be mad at him for bleaching and dyeing his hair. Right?

As his arms come to wrap around you from behind, face nuzzling in the crook of your neck, he hears you bemoan, “You look like a Smurf came on your head.”

Wrong.

Well, not entirely, he guesses. You do lean into his chest, practically melting against him. A sluggish grin tugs at his lips and, instead, he chooses to ask, “Shower with me?”

“Aren’t you tired, Koo?”

“Baby,” he deadpans, and your heart flutters just a little bit, “by this point, I’m running solely on Red Bull and coffee that I’m positive I could fight the gods with my bare hands and win. In fact, I’ve had so much caffeine that I’m fairly certain I’ve ascended to the astral plane. Besides, I need to wash this dye out, and I could use some help. Sleep can wait.”

“Help,” You snort. “You’re such a liar. I already know what you want.”

“To spend time with my beautiful girlfriend? You’re right.”

“I’m not sucking your dick.”

He pulls his head back to look at you. Though he tries to look offended, there’s the tiniest of smirks on his face. “Wasn’t gonna ask you!”

You turn to properly face him in his arms and shoot him a dubious glance. He leans down to press a chilling kiss to your jaw, then nudges his nose against you in the same spot so that you’ll move your head. You do so, despite your prior scolding, and let him kiss the underside of your jaw down to your neck.

“Okay, fine,” You huff finally.

You relent, miraculously, but Jungkook had already guessed you would the moment he had found you in the living room and he couldn’t be happier.

He cherishes the moments alone with you, has come to know them well as he falls into a comfortable routine with you away from prying eyes over the last few months. Because sometimes, as he comes to learn, it’s hard to establish a relationship when his job requires him to be in the spotlight often. What is authentic and what is simply fabricated for views is difficult to discern, and yet you’re patient with him. Not everything to him is money and views and numbers, or what his next big plan is, or how you could potentially help him in some way (despite knowing that any video featuring you seems to skyrocket his views and land his videos on the trending page of YouTube more often than not because he knows everyone loves you more than him). You know when he’s his online persona and when he’s simply just Jungkook, and while there’s hardly any difference between the two, his online personality surely has to maintain a level of privacy and happiness that may not always be true.

At least with you, he can just be himself. He can finally be at ease.

Showering together is just one of the many acts of normalcy he cherishes with you. So, he turns on the shower and lets the bathroom get all warm and balmy as you undress. He’s the first one inside, hissing in delight as he lets the water run over his sore muscles, washing out the dye in his hair firstly so as not to get it on you and fortunately not making too much of a mess of blue dye in the tub. You’ve joined him in an instant when he’s nearly done, squeezing into the space in front of him as you shut the glass door behind you, the pane already beginning to fog and slick with droplets of condensation. He pulls you into him once more, nestling his chin on your shoulder as his hands come to wrap around you. They slide across your front, all wet and soapy, briefly gliding across your breasts, palms brushing against your nipples before traveling down to your navel.

“Congrats, baby,” You coo gently. “Twenty-four hours.”

He murmurs into your hair, “Missed you loads though.”

You turn to look at him finally, and it’s hard not to stare. Your eyes land firstly on his abdomen and the toned muscles there, trailing up to his arm and the pretty tattoos that decorate every inch of his skin, to his soft pink lips and his big eyes. Then, there’s the matter of his hair. The water has done most of the work in washing out the dye from his hair, now falling across his forehead and into his eyes and cheekbones, and it’s only then that you fully register the dye has worked as you struggle to find any remnants of his once-ebony-then-blonde locks. The blue hair is an obvious stark contrast to his natural hair and, you think, it is pretty, accentuating his radiant skin and making his eyes pop.

“I didn’t think you were actually serious all those times you said you wanted to change your hair.” Your lips are pursed as you survey him now, your fingers twirling a strand of his tresses around and around as you inspect it.

He smiles, catching your hand and pressing a quick peck to your knuckles. “Neither did I,” he admits sheepishly. “It sort of just happened.”

You pout. “I’m gonna miss your natural hair.”

“Do you really hate it blue?”

“I don’t hate it. Was more scared you’d ruin your pretty hair and make it all fall out.”

At this, Jungkook flashes you a cheeky smile. He holds his head a little higher. “So you still think my hair is pretty?”

“I think you’re a dork,” You clarify. “And, aside from the fact you almost gave me a heart attack, I’d say the blue is so pretty. Beyond pretty. Kinda hot, if I’m being honest.”

Because you’re not really mad, but it’s fun just to tease Jungkook and see his reactions. At the very least, he can sense this, as it’s apparent with the way his smile stretches even wider on his face.

“Hot, huh?”

“Mhm. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

He feigns a look of mock hurt. “Oh no. You must be really mad. Want me to make it up to you?”

“How are you gonna do that?”

“Well, what do you want from me?”

You take a moment to think it over, but the answer is already obvious enough. It’s one that even he knows, and one that has won you over the moment Jungkook was freed from his stream. You hum aloud, “You, on your knees, head between my legs, like a good boy. Think I can get a better viewpoint of your hair from down there anyway before I judge it.”

“Like a good boy?” A dark smirk tugs at his face. “So now who’s the needy one?”

He lowers his head so that he’s leaving a trail of sloppy wet kisses down your neck to your collarbones. As you let yourself get carried away for a moment, you wrap your arm around his neck, pulling him backwards until you’re pressed up against the glass door. He ducks even lower, kissing just above your left breast and then catching your nipple between his teeth. You swallow thickly, rubbing your thighs together, reminding yourself to respond to him.

“It’s not my fault when you were busy for the past day,” You pout. “And the blue hair really is sexy.”

“Aha!” he straightens up in front of you suddenly, a crooked smug smile on his face. “So I’m not just hot. I’m sexy.”

“You’re literally always sexy. And beautiful too. It’s almost unfair.”

“That’s even better.”

You tug your fingers at his damp locks. When you speak, your voice is a mix between urgency and a whine. “Jungkook. I could’ve already gotten off with my hand at this point.”

“Ouch, feisty!” He pokes his fingers at your sides. Then, nipping a little more firmly on the soft skin of your breast, murmurs huskily, “Alright, alright. But only if you call me a good boy again.”

Part of him is taunting you, but there’s a small sliver of intrigue that makes the thought in his head and the pretty words on your tongue excite him to no end.

Still, you choose to entertain him, maybe a little drowsily and entirely consumed by him, “I will if you let me ride your face.”

A rumble of a chuckle resonates from him. You find him on his knees in the next moment, wedging himself between your thighs. He nudges one of your legs and you follow the wordless command, hitching one thigh over his shoulder as you settle back against the glass door of the shower. He kisses at your hips as he dips his head lower and lower to where you want him, before swiping his tongue at your cunt, tasting all of you at once.

“Mmm, Koo━” A soft whimper sounds from you, making his head swim.

He wastes no time in lapping at your folds, tongue delving into you deeper and deeper as he cranes his neck. The wetness that pools between your legs and on the tip of his tongue is a sticky mess that he basks in just a little longer.

“Fuck,” he groans into your pussy, “you taste so fucking good. Missed this so much.”

His hands are big as they come to hold you close, cradling your ass, your thighs, your hips, anything to pull you into him while simultaneously pushing your thighs further apart.

You manage to find your voice and quip weakly, “Missed me or having your head between my legs?”

“You, definitely,” he murmurs. He busies himself by reaching out with his thumb to press circles against your clit. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, hips rutting into his face. “All of you.”

“Jungkook━ Fuck━”

He burrows further into you, humming in response. His nose brushes against your clit, the muscle of his tongue a pleasant wet that makes you warm all over. You give another experimental swivel of your hips, grinding against his tongue just right. He pinches at your hips as if to probe you onward, and then you do it again, and again, desperately rocking your hips back and forth against him. Your fingers reach out to grab a fistful of his hair, clutching it so tightly he hisses. But you’re right. The blue locks look dazzling between your legs, being pulled by your hands as you push him further into you.

His eyes meet yours from below your waist, hooded and idle, enjoying the view as you squirm and writhe above him, shamelessly riding his face. Grinding against his chin, nose, and tongue, the slick wetness you leave behind glistens on his skin.

“Ah, Koo━” You cry out. “Fuck, I’m gonna━!”

Your orgasm hits you violently, sending you keeling. Your hips continue with reckless abandon, and Jungkook presses his finger against your clit a little harder, a little faster. The abrupt gushing warmth between your thighs sends your mind spinning, as the steam from the shower and your panting breaths begin to fog the bathroom. When your hips begin to slow, Jungkook laps at the rest of your leaking core before pulling away with a grin brandishing his shimmering face. He lets you pull him up eagerly, clumsy hands fumbling to hold either side of his face as you tug at him.

“God, you’re so hot, babe,” he sighs wistfully, smothering your lips with his for an all too chaste kiss, before leaning in once more to nibble at your lower lip.

“Wanna feel you, Koo,” You prompt urgently. “Want you in me.”

Jungkook hastens to comply, his hands falling to your waist. “Go on, then. Turn around for me.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You spin so that you’re facing the glass sliding door, your back to him. You watch him over your shoulder, momentarily admiring his well built stature, the tattoos that ink his body, and the water that shimmers on his skin. He has to push his wet hair up and away when it falls across his forehead and then he reaches down to grasp at his length, grip tight around his shaft so that he can pump himself sluggishly a few short times. It’s almost painful to watch him jerk himself off in front of you, the tip a burning red and glistening. He catches you staring and decides to catch you off guard when he grabs a hold of your hips with one hand. He yanks you towards him, your ass pressed firmly against his hips, making you jump from the startle, and grins when you look back at him.

Then, ever so slowly, he runs the length of his cock along your folds. Before you can brace yourself for the overwhelming rush of pleasure, he’s sliding his cock past your folds, burrowing into you deep. He curses behind you, his other hand flying out to steady himself by digging into your hip.

“Fffuck. Shit.” He dips his head so that his cheek is resting against your shoulder and sputters for air. “Jesus, fuck━ Been dying to feel you all day.”

He fits so snugly in you, so perfectly, just like always and you take him so well, coaxed by your own arousal. He ruts his hips forward into yours and you nearly fall forward before catching yourself by pressing your palms to the glass. Then, he’s grinding against you, small and precise thrusts that roll into your hips.

“Mmm, Jungkook,” you choke out. “You feel so━ So good.”

“Ah, shit,” he hisses. “Wanna wreck you so bad.”

He angles his chest a little more, pummels his dick into you in such a way that he’s hitting a different spot in you. His eyes stay fixated on the soft, round flesh of your ass and the way his cock slips so easily into you, brows screwed in concentration, jaw clenched. The slight bounce of your ass each time he rolls his hips firmly against you, the way you ricochet forward each time in tandem with his moves. You bow your head, pressing your temple against the glass door now tinted with condensation, only marked up by the imprints of your fingers grasping at anything. It’s almost sweltering hot in the shower now but you both pay no mind to it. He fucks into you with such languid, steady strides, cock beginning to throb and twitch in anticipation. You feel so wet, such a pitiless mess between your thighs already that it makes him growl.

“H-Harder,” You mewl. “Oh, Koo━”

He almost slips behind you in his eagerness to obey, awakening something animalistic in him, a yearning to just release all the tension in his core. This time, he adapts a measured pace, forceful thrusts that have you crying out in delight each time. One hand reaches up to grip at your shoulder to steady himself while his other slithers around your front to grasp at your breasts, all wet and supple, pinching at your nipples.

“So good,” he moans, pressing sloppy kisses just below your ear. His breath is hot as he pants behind you, sending tingles down your spine. “Fuck━”

His voice is cut off by a whine, hips bucking forward in an unsolicited manner as he feels his high drawing near. You lean your head onto his shoulder, stretching your arm out so that you can tug desperately at his hair. It’s a silent, simple command, but it’s one that he immediately understands even without you speaking.

“Wanna feel you━” You whimper. “Wanna see you.”

Jungkook nearly slips as he fumbles to pull out of you, hissing at the loss of warmth and friction. As soon as you’ve turned to face him, he wastes no time in closing the distance between you. He pushes his leaking cock past your folds once more and continues at the same pace as if he had never even stopped to begin with.

“Fuck,” he whines. “Not gonna last━”

You wrap your arms around his neck, drawing him even closer to you, as he presses you against the glass. He hitches one of your thighs around his waist, spreading your legs just wide enough to hit a certain spot that has both of you crying out. You’re clinging so tightly to him, fingers digging harshly into his skin in an attempt to alleviate the building pressure you feel. He knows you’ve almost reached your end when you resort to a gasping, moaning mess, writhing beneath his broad stature.

“Close, baby?” he hums.

You open your mouth to respond but can only muster a whimper. His pace treads over to heedlessly frantic, the sound of skin against skin and the lewd wetness filling the shower. Despite his hips pounding into yours so harshly, his fingers flutter so delicately under your chin, grasping it and moving your head just enough so that you’re facing him.

“Lemme see you,” he grunts. “Wanna watch you when you cum all over my cock. Always so pretty.”

“I━ I’m━ Fuck, Koo━”

But you can’t finish your thought.

You keep your gaze fixated on Jungkook’s, however exhausted and weary it may be. Your lashes flutter, brows knit together, and you suck your lower lip between your teeth, biting so hard Jungkook’s certain you’ll bruise it. Another few hard thrusts and then you’re reaching your high, overcome by such an intense burning that you can’t help but look away out of instinct. You cry his name, face contorting in pure pleasure, and chest arching to meet his. You’re clenching so tightly around him has him sputtering for air, nearly collapsing entirely against you. You’re near dripping around his cock which only means he almost slips from you with each draw of his hips that he makes. It’s why he sloppily rocks his hips into yours, desperate to reach his own high as well.

When you return to your senses, blinking away your blurry vision, you can make out Jungkook cooing into your ear, “That’s it, baby. Doing so well.”

You meet his gaze once more, only this time you’re perhaps even more tired. Hooded eyes watch him, silently probing him to his climax. He comes tumbling towards it, a few more short thrusts of his hips and, finally, he’s there. He slams his hips up into yours one final time, crying out, and then he’s releasing into you in an overwhelming abrupt gush. Only he can’t quite enjoy it because, out of genuine accident and driven by impatience to just get off, the last jerk of his hips hits you a little too hard.

It’s what causes you to slip backward and he, so lost in his own reverie, hardly has a proper grip on you or where he’s standing. When you lose your footing beneath you, slipping on the wet porcelain of the tub, and comes crashing down, he’s brought along with you. “Oh, fuck━!”

The both of you yelp from the surprise, your hands flailing out to brace yourself for the fall.

Fortunately, you land on him when you reach the bottom of the tub, courtesy of him grabbing onto you last second so that he can soften the blow upon impact.

Unfortunately, the breath is knocked out of him from the startle and from the sudden added weight of you on top of him with no warning.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he groans.

“In hindsight,” You wince as you shift your weight above him, “maybe having sex in the shower again wasn’t the greatest idea. Remember last time when we knocked the shower curtain down and I had to get stitches on my elbow? It’s why we got the glass door installed, and then we had to lie to Tae about it.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” He tilts his head back, rubbing a hand over his face. Then, he flashes you an all too charming smirk. “Was kinda worth it though.”

You giggle, sounding so sweet and angelic, even despite the way his cum still leaks from you. Somewhere in the fall, his dick had slipped from you and now lays softening on his stomach which, really, is probably the worst part of the accident to him. He already misses the warmth of you wrapped around him, your mingling cum a dirty mess around him. You prop yourself up on his chest with your palms, but before you can even think to respond, you notice something out of the corner of your eye.

A small mass of fur in the shape of little Yeontan has just poked his head through the crack in the door, oblivious to you and Jungkook’s compromising position. And then, shortly following behind him, is his equally oblivious owner who must have forgotten something in the apartment to bring him back so suddenly.

“Tannie, get back here━ We gotta go━ Oh, Jesus, what the fuck?” Taehyung appears at the door for a millisecond before noticing the situation he’s just stumbled upon. Thankfully, he acts fast, and clamps a hand over his tainted eyes, clumsily scooping up Yeontan in his other hand. “Can you guys please stop fucking all over this damn apartment? My son’s eyes are too pure for this!”

And then he’s retreating, but not before bumping blindly into the doorframe, grumbling along the way. It’s silent for a moment as you and Jungkook gawk at one another; then you hear Taehyung leave the apartment once more, and the both of you dissolve into a fit of unabashed laughter.

“Are you okay?” You ask once you’ve calmed down enough as he reaches out to shut the shower off. You plant a kiss in your boyfriend’s hair. “You hit your head coming down.”

Jungkook’s heart swells at your gentle touches and smiles. “I’m fine,” he promises brightly. “You?”

“Well, you did just thoroughly fuck me, so━” You shrug innocently. “I’m kinda still too giddy to even care.”

“I’m gonna make it up to you,” he says. “For almost giving you a heart attack with my hair and for almost putting you in the emergency room again just now.”

The mention of his hair draws your attention to it once more. It’s not as wet as before, damp azure waves falling into his eyes that you brush away gingerly.

“Yeah,” You snort, “but I’ve decided I like your hair. Like, really like it.”

“Yeah?” he grins wide. “What was the deciding factor?”

You pause, as if to think for a moment. Exhaustion riddles your body and you know sleeping curled up next to Jungkook is nearing your future, but for now you let yourself entertain the last remnants of whatever lewd thoughts are still on yours and his minds before they fizzle away completely. You can’t help yourself anyway. The blue really is nice.

“Definitely the view of you eating me out,” You say. “And can’t forget how pretty it looks when I’m pulling at your hair.”

“Say no more,” he beams. “Then I’ll make it up to you by making you cum on my tongue again and again and again.”

The last thing he hears before he grabs at your cheek to softly pull you down to him for one last kiss, slow and ardent, is a bubbly giggle from you that delights him to no end.

“That’s a good boy.”

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