#feeling grateful for this fish and music

[1roentgen]

this goes after the tags below i didn’t wanna make a new post

they’re straight leg, not quite skinny but almost and very flattering wink emoji. no cap, corroborated by my darling ex-nothing, who also kept asking me where i got them except i think the brand is vintage or went bankrupt or something cuz i can only seem to find their stuff secondhand online and their only website is this old wix catalogue-type thing with no way to purchase products. he would look so good in these though holy shit. not that his jeans aren’t already extremely flattering. hate to see u go bb love to watch u leave, so much. how can you be so skinny and have such a nice ass, and then u decide to wear ur stupid size 28 jeans and walk around like that like it’s no big deal. i don’t understand. ur a horrid little homunculus especially designed to torment me.

i’m sleepy. and my legs still really hurt. i wanted to read some more before bed today but i’m probably just going to call it a night soon.

i forgot why i wanted to post this journal entry in the first place. just feels good to reflect and bitch ig. i love electronic music. i swear i’m not drunk rn, just really tired. too broke to be drinking

[sleepymarimo]

𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕣!

summary: the first time you make their heart skip a beat, w/ monster trio + law! pairing(s): luffy x gn!reader, zoro x gn!reader, sanji x gn!reader, law x gn!reader cw: none! an: ahhhh idk how to feel about this one but i hope you enjoy :') 👐

luffy

there are a lot of things that get luffy's heart racing.

a good meal. a cool looking fish. a killer party. all of it makes this captain happy, because he revels in the adventure. he lives for the moment. he feels deeply and strongly, a trait that acts as a double edged sword.

like now, as a torrent of anger and worry swirl in his chest and weigh him down. he's running through some dense woods, bursting through trees and falling down hills, a look of determination on his face.

an enemy had managed to sneak up on the crew.

what's worse? they ran off. with you.

luffy doesn't think twice. he pushes through anything in his way for the sake of finding you before things got too rough. as he runs, he finds the enemy's actions cowardly. someone using you to draw him out makes him irritate. he doesn't care if he's falling into some trap; he'd deal with whatever was put in front of him so long as he could rescue you.

he's worried for your well being, of course he is. even though he can't see you, he can feel you. his observation haki lets him know how frightened you are, a fact that makes him all the more angry.

then finally, in the distance, he catches sight of you.

you're in a clearing, the enemy looming over you. they're raising a weapon in your direction, much too close.

luffy feels his blood boil. he grabs ahold of some trees, running backwards and preparing to launch himself in your direction as fast as he can. his rubber arms grow taut as he stretches, his mind set on rescuing you.

an annoyed huff leaves him when he hears the enemy taunting you, threatening your life and mocking your ambitions. it has luffy's anger rising, because there was no way he'd let your dreams get made fun of. by anyone.

his thoughts become hazy, his strong feelings taking hold of his actions.

then, luffy hears it. it's like a melody, absolute music to his ears.

your laugh.

ba-dum! ba-dum!

his head clears.

he can feel a big smile curling at his lips. his grin is all teeth, his eyes shining with equal parts pride and mischief. it's like a fire has been lit in his soul, like he's a toy that's just been wound up to the max.

even in your current predicament, even when you're utterly terrified, you have faith in yourself. in him.

if you can laugh, then so can he.

finally, he yells out his signature move, launching himself at the enemy and landing a punch so hard that it makes the air itself tremble.

"luffy!" you call with some tears prickling in your eyes, your limbs still shaky from the adrenaline. your smile falters at the edges, relief flooding your body. "you made it!"

your captain comes to life upon seeing your smile up close, his heart beating like a drum. his rubber arms wrap around you and he squeezes you to his chest, his laughter ringing in your ears.

"of course i did!" he grins, grabbing you by the hand and urging you to run with him to the ship. his grip on you is tight and secure. glancing back at you, he can't help but feel grateful to have you with him on this journey.

he snickers, letting emotion run through him without restriction. "you made my heart feel funny!"

zoro

after another victory, the straw hat pirates found themselves reveling in drinks, food and company.

for a while, the swordsman finds himself amidst the other heavy drinkers. he grins and knocks back bottle after bottle, content with listening to the animated conversations around him and observing the party.

eventually though, he craves some solitude. and so, he heads off towards a less occupied area where he can drink in peace.

he basks in isolation, until you manage to find your way to him. a big grin is on your face and he can't help but reciprocate with a small smirk when he notices your inebriated state. unceremoniously, you plop down next to him at a respectable distance.

“hey zo', gimme some!” you nod towards the large bottle he holds, completely immersed in the light, upbeat atmosphere. one of your hands even reaches out, making a sort of grabbing motion.

he possessively tightens his grip on the bottle, his expression hardening slightly as his brows furrowed. "hah? this is mine, go grab your own bottle."

"i don't wanna full drink, jus' need a little more and i'll be good." you answer, well aware of your limits. your tone becomes pleading as you look up at him with puppy dog eyes. "one sip. please?"

with a groan, he relents. he grumbles something about you being lucky that he's in such a good mood, before extending the bottle in your direction.

yet, it appears that you have some more tricks up your sleeve.

instead of grabbing the bottle, you simply tilt your head back and let your mouth hang open. you make an 'ah' sound, waiting for him to bestow you with the gift of alcohol.

he's a little taken aback at first. seriously? you wanted him to pour it for you? ugh, fine...

he rolls his eye and uses his free hand to firmly hold your jaw steady and open, bringing the bottle up and pouring the sake into your mouth.

your hand rests on his, your fingers absentmindedly tracing over his knuckles.

it's all fine at first, until his eyes lock with yours. in that moment, he seems to acknowledge the intimacy of the act, something primal stirring in his gut as he looked down at you. his cheeks redden.

ba-dum! ba-dum!

his muscles tense and he goes almost still. he gets so distracted that his hand moves upwards, effectively drowning your face with sake. your head snaps back into its natural position and you start to cough, the alcohol burning your nostrils.

you give the swordsman an incredulous look, wiping the excess sake from your face. “what the hell was that for?”

“you’re the one that moved!” he sharply replies, even though he knows damn well that you were sitting good and still for him.

focusing inward, he seems pleased to feel that his heart is once again thumping steadily. unwavering. what an odd feeling it was, to have his strong heart skip a beat.

i'll deal with that later. he thinks, not at all wanting to open that can of worms.

so, he takes another swig from the bottle and uses one of his large hands to pat you on the back as you continued to cough up sake.

“oi, don’t waste good booze.”

sanji

the cook wasn't used to being spoiled. he's always been a giver, someone who provides and never takes.

he basked in the smiles that formed on the faces of his crew mates, his family, whenever he made them a good meal or protected them. he never asks for anything in return. however, that doesn’t mean that he shouldn’t be shown appreciation every now and then.

currently, he's on night watch.

a thick blanket is wrapped around his shoulders, the cold wind nipping at his cheeks and painting them a reddish color. a cigarette hangs from his lips, his breaths coming out as white puffs against the dark sky.

out of the corner of his eye, he can see light pouring out from the kitchen window. how long has that been on? his brows furrow in suspicion as he makes his way over, half-expecting to see luffy attempting to crack open the pantry.

yet when he opens the door, his posture immediately relaxes and he practically melts as he sees you. you're in your pajamas, hunched over the stove with a focused expression. he takes note of the cookbook laid out on the counter, guiding you as you prepared a dish.

he calls your name, his limbs turning to mush as he approached you. "what are you doing here so late? if you're hungry, i'll make you some-"

his nose twitches as he catches the scent of what you're making.

he knows it well because it happens to be one of his favorite dishes. coincidentally, it was one of your least favorites, the scent of it rather unbearable to you.

"you're... you're making..." his cigarette threatens to tumble out of his lips as he gives you a bewildered expression.

he can see your nose briefly scrunch up before you give him a smile, one of your hands holding a wooden spoon and mixing up ingredients on a pan. "yeah. i hope i'm making it right. i mean, it won't be as good as yours anyway, but still."

"mon amour, you shouldn't. i know how much you can't stand the smell of it." he tries to usher you away, placing a hand on yours and insisting that he didn't want you to be queasy. "why're you making this, mon amour? did someone ask you to?"

you shrug and keep a firm hold on the wooden spoon, replying like the answer was obvious. "because i thought it'd make you happy."

ba-dum! ba-dum!

his cigarette does fall to the floor. the hand that's over yours tightens, perhaps his way of grounding himself. he's speechless for a moment, something shaking him down to his very center.

he could almost cry.

"sanji?" you ask, a little concerned for the chef as his eyes seemed to glaze over.

the blond snaps out of it, giving you a smile that's so warm it makes you wonder if the sun had just come up. there's none of that surface level attraction or lust in his gaze, only an authentic appreciation.

thank you. he thinks, feeling light. thank you for caring.

his eyes close as he once again takes in the scent of the dish you're preparing. "it smells great, mon amour. better than anything i've ever made, i’m sure of it."

"i doubt that." you laugh, downplaying his compliment. with a nod, you resume cooking. "it'll be finished by the time you're done with your watch. i can handle it."

sanji thanks you once more, his heart feeling full. returning to his post, he allows you to do something kind for him. he allows himself to take, without worrying about having to repay you.

he quells any lingering thoughts of insecurity and self-doubt, focusing instead on the meal that's sure to be waiting for him in the morning.

law

it was a couple weeks ago that law made the decision to educate the crew a bit more on medical practices.

the surgeon knew that he couldn’t always be around to provide assistance to the crew, so it was only logical that he trained everyone in basic first aid, including you. day after day, he trained everyone, one at a time.

was it a lot? yes. however, law liked to be prepared and felt comfort in being thorough with his teachings, regardless of how tedious it was.

so, finally it was your day to be trained under his watchful eye.

you could tell how passionate he was about his work, how knowledgeable. if you had any questions or wanted to know more about a topic, he took the time to explain it to you properly.

he was quite patient, something you were thankful for since you knew he could sometimes grow frustrated.

when it's all said and done, he quizzes you. he sits atop the exam table, his expression apathetic.

"i'm a patient suffering from shortness of breath, chest pain and dizziness." he flatly says, watching your every move. "what comes to mind? what do you check first?"

you bite at your lip, your head scrambling to come up with any ideas of what your 'patient' could be suffering from. "arrhythmia?" you answer, uncertain. he gives you a pressing look, urging you to continue. "and i... check your heartbeat?"

"good." with a nod of his head, he gestures towards the stethoscope. "go ahead, then. check it and let's see if you get the reading right."

pushing past your initial hesitance, you grab the stethoscope and put it on, gently holding the bell in your hand. placing it on his clothed chest, your expression turns frustrated as you struggle to hear a beat.

he rolls his eyes and calls your name lightly. "you can't place it over fabric. it needs to go directly on the skin."

oh yeah, you needed to place it directly on his chest.

you click your tongue, embarrassed by your slight error. "yeah, yeah, i got it."

with that, your hand slips under the hem of his shirt.

however, instead of holding up his shirt and and placing the stethoscope directly over his heart, your hand slides upward from his abdomen and all the way to his chest.

your fingers inadvertently graze along his skin, tracing a warm path from his navel to his heart.

you're too focused on your task to notice his widening eyes and how his breath hitches.

a content smile forms on your face when you catch the sound of his heartbeat.

ba-dum! ba-dum!

you look up at him, slightly concerned. “i think there's something weird-"

"you're hearing things." he's quick to say, placing a hand over yours and promptly removing it from his person. standing from the exam table, he adjusts his shirt and takes a step back to put some much needed distance between the two of you. "good job today, you did well."

he turns in the opposite direction, not wanting to let his cracked composure show. steeling himself, he takes a deep breath and shakes off any residual feelings of unease.

it was just a fluke. he's quick to think, wanting to be rational.

in the end, he looks over his shoulder and gives you a nod before heading to his study.

[miniimight]

❝ CAN WE LEAVE ? ❞ feeling overstimulated at an event, you ask him to take you home

with deku, bakugou, todoroki ( pro heroes )

notes something short while i work on requests ! they are open so shoot me an ask with whatever scenario want me to write ! <3

it was so loud. it was too bright. and the music's vibration grated on your sanity with every rhythmic thump. there were too many people—too many bodies, so many conversations, and shit it was so hot. you felt as if you were floating, in a woozy state as you made your way over to your boyfriend, who was chatting with a couple friends.

IZUKU

at your hushed whisper, izuku immediately honed into your expression and body language. his eyebrows creased in concern as he guided the both of you to a corner. "what's wrong, love?"

you pursed your lips. "there's just... there's a lot of..." you sighed, unsure of how to phrase it.

he leaned into you, blocking you from the party scene behind him. "it's okay, sweetheart, we don't have to stay if you don't wanna." he read your mind and you couldn't be more grateful.

tears pricked at the corner of your eyes as your head pounded. "izuku..." you whined, massaging your temples.

deku shushed you and pulled you into his chest, helping you walk out of the venue. "let's go home."

"thanks..."

"no need to thank me." he smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead as he hoisted you up and into his arms. "i was over it a while ago."

you giggled and he flashed a goofy smile.

he took you to your side of the car before climbing in himself, turning down the radio and resting a loving hand on your thigh. "rest up."

you laughed softly. "if i sleep, i might not get up, even when we get home. you'd have to carry me."

he looked at you playfully, a smirk on his lips. "it's cute how you think that'd be a problem for me, love." he pat your thigh as if that was a done deal, pulling out into the road.

the comfortable silence lulled you to sleep.

BAKUGO

"home?" he asked.

you nodded shyly.

he stood up and said a brash goodbye to his friends, lacing your hand in his as he pulled you through the crowd. once you were both far away enough from the party, you heard each other loud and clear.

"how long did you wait?" he mused as he fished in his pockets for keys.

"what?" you furrowed your eyebrows.

"how long did you wait to tell me?" he gave you a pointed look. you looked away and pursed your lips.

"you were having fun with your friends, and i really didn't want to cut it short..." you mumbled, your eyes stinging.

he opened your car door for you, leaning over the car as he watched you buckle your seatbelt. you stared up at him with glossy eyes and he softened, brushing his thumb over your cheek. the silence was welcomed as your eyes fluttered shut.

"don't be an idiot." he murmured. "just tell me the second you feel uncomfortable, 'kay?"

you leaned into his hands with a smile. "i will."

he smiled and shut your door, slipping into the driver's seat. he took your hand in his again, kissing your knuckles as he sped off.

TODOROKI

"now?" he cocked his head to the side. "are you not enjoying the party?"

your eyes squeezed shut as you shook your head, the movement alone making you feel dizzy.

"okay." he set his drink down. "okay, we can leave."

"thanks..." you followed him, unsure of his feelings at the moment. he opened your car door and closed it shut once you were inside, walking to the front of the car. you saw him out the windshield picking up a call, pacing slightly as he conversed.

you grew more nervous by the minute, wondering if you should've just grinned and gotten through it. he was having a good time catching up with his friends, after all.

finally, he sat in the driver's seat, sighing as he leaned back. you watched him with concern and a little bit of guilt.

"i'm sorry, i... we can go back if you want. really." you said.

he looked at you incredulously, his expression reading utter confusion. "but... i thought you weren't enjoying it?"

"well, i—" you stammered, collecting your thoughts. "you were having a great time with your friends and i should've thought of that before i asked to leave."

he shook his head and leaned towards you. "i'm just as tired as you are, darling." he smiled. "to be honest, i'm glad you asked to leave."

"who were you on call with?" you let curiosity get the better of you.

"midoriya, he was just concerned about you." he buckled his seatbelt and brought the car to life. he cast you a little smirk. "i'm afraid you're not very good at hiding your expressions, love."

your face heated as you turned back to face the windshield. he laughed softly, "it's alright. we both aren't."

© miniimight ! thanks for reading <3

[luveline]

If we're still doing dad thoughts- I'm always thinking about kbd!Steve and how wonderful he is. The whole family sitting cosy in the living room and Steve just giving his family heart eyes because he loves them all so much 🥹🥹

thank you for requesting <3 kisses before dinner au, mom!reader

Steve lets out a sigh of content. He feels like a kitten falling asleep over a bowl of cream, or a little boy the night after Christmas. He feels content, in every sense of the word. He had no idea he could feel this happy doing nothing. 

You’re on your stomach. Finally home from work and with no chores left to do, you’ve stretched out the big green puzzle rug and unboxed Avery’s newest one thousand piece jigsaw. The edges are coming together slowly, the constant plink of pieces as you sort through them colour by colour lulling rather than grating. Avery lies opposite you in the same position. She might be Steve’s physical replicant, but she’s your copy now. She’s even perched her hand in her chin the same way you have, the tip of her tongue sticking out between her lips in concentration. 

Wren is awake yet perfectly happy in Steve’s lap. She’s had enough cooing for this evening, babbling as the cartoon mermaids on the TV begin to sing a big musical number. Dove sings along, nestled under Steve’s arm. Many of the words are foreign to her. She swaps them out for nonsense sounds. 

Bethie sits on one of Steve’s socked feet eating pretzels and clapping when the cartoon sea creatures clap, her hair tickling Steve’s knees whenever she moves. It’s the calmest night you’ve had for a while. What’s better is that, besides you and Avery, everybody’s had a bath, and so all that’s left to do tonight is have dinner and go to bed.

You’ll wait until the morning to shower, decked out in your pyjamas, Avery’s hair swept into a protective style to prevent any tangles or knots. 

He can’t really put his finger on why he feels so happy. Perhaps it’s because, at the end of the day, this is everything he’s ever wanted. He doesn’t need the finer things or even the moderately good things, but he has them. He has a nice, clean home (though it’s fit to bursting now with the newest arrival). He has a wife who he loves, and who loves him. He has his four daughters, their pet fish, and a best friend four streets away who he can see whenever. It’s more than he ever thought he’d get, once. 

“Dad,” Bethie whispers. 

“Yeah?” he whispers back, voice filled with a mischievousness that makes Bethie smile. 

“Why are you smiling?” 

You turn to look at him. “You are smiling. What’s funny?” 

“Nothing,” he insists. 

Dove turns under his arm. Her toddler face is pretty much identical to her baby face, the only difference being her mouth full of baby teeth that she hasn’t quite mastered talking around yet. “You are smiling,” she says, like this is a problem to be solved. 

“What’s so bad about that?” he asks. “It’s a good thing, smiling. You guys should try it sometimes.”

Predictably, every girl looking at him is immediately glaring at him. Well, for a moment, but then Bethie cracks and smiles shyly. “I smile all the time,” she argues. 

“You do. Not my cranky pants,” he says, giving Dove a gentle shake. “We don’t like smiling, do we?” 

Dove, despite herself, grins at her dad’s affection. Maybe she’s forgotten you’re home, but she wraps her arm around Steve, careful of Wren’s face, and smiles into his shirt. “No,” she says. “We don’t.”

He kisses her head, sharing a private look with you from over it. 

Avery doesn’t glance away from her puzzle. “I love smiling.” 

“You’re so good at it, that’s why,” you say. Steve hums his agreement. 

“Yeah, you’re beautiful!” Bethie says. 

Avery pulls her head up, then. “Thank you,” she says, sounding surprised and delighted at once. “You’re beautiful too, Beth!” 

“I’m pretty like mom.” 

“And I’m like dad,” Avery says, nodding. She smiles exactly like Steve would as she says it, driving her point home efficiently. Her lips curve up and her almond eyes thin, sparkling with love as she looks between Bethie and Steve. 

“We’re handsome,” Steve says. 

“Handsomely beautiful,” you say. “Ave, did you know handsome used to be a word only said about girls?” 

Avery shakes her head as you delve into an explanation. Bethie crawls to the jigsaw circle to listen. 

“You’re handsome,” Steve says into Dove’s forehead. 

“I am beautiful.” 

“Yes, you are. You’re all so pretty, ‘cos you get your good looks from me.” He laughs. “And a little bit from your mommy, too. Mostly from me.” 

Dove hears the laughter and it catches like a yawn, her giggles peeling as she falls backwards away from him and into her nest of pillows and blankets. “You’re happy,” she says with a big smile. 

“I’m so happy I could cry,” he says. He grabs one of feet to squeeze her toes. “But I’m getting sick of the mermaids, honey. Can we watch something else after this? Maybe something with real people?” 

“Maybe.” With Dove, maybe tends to mean no. 

He shrugs, adjusting the arm that secures Wren to his stomach carefully. She’s peering up at him curiously. “I can’t win them all, can I?” he asks her softly. 

She smiles and gurgles something unintelligible.

“No, you’re right. It’s just mermaids. We’ll live.”

[mini-mews]

animal crossing and alien noises <3

request: hi! i hope ur doing well, i love ur acc and i wanted to ask if you can do some shota x reader fluff,,, maybe he sneaks into ur room to cuddle and talk :)) 💗

p1harmony shota haku (soul) x gn!reader

wc: 705

summary: Shota comes home late to find you comfy and he can't resist melting into the warm bed with you, a bubble of love blocking off the outside world.

a/n: hii anon!! thank you so much for this request, it was super soft annd i really enjoyed writing it, so i hope you enjoy it lots <3

Shifting around in bed as you bury yourself into the blankets, the switch sitting in your hand lights up. Soft music chimes out as your island comes into view, Animal Crossing displayed. It was just past 11pm, only a few minutes after Soul had sent you a text. 

‘Are you still awake? 〵(•́ ꞈ •̀)〴’

‘Yeah m’ just in bed now, do you have yer key? ♡’ 

‘Yesss!! cya 15 mins ʚ(*´꒳`*)ɞ’

Knowing he probably freshened up at the company you got comfortable checking through your island to pass time. Quiet chimes of the music fills the space as the side lamp gives a warm glow to the room and before you knew it, the telltale sound of keys jingling could be heard.

Footsteps down the hall as your eyes follow a dark spot in the water, trying to get close enough to trigger a fishing event without scaring it off. The sound of footsteps and water splashing rise and suddenly stop as the screen reads out ‘I caught a sea bass- no, wait! This is at least a C+’ making you scrunch your nose. 

As you glare down at the sea bass with terrible puns, Shota stands leaned against the doorframe admiring you. The cute face you're making at the screen, how comfy you look curled up in bed, the light illuminates you so perfectly, gently kissing your skin Shota bites back a wide smile. When you finally look up, locking eyes with him as he moves towards you.

“Hi baby, welcome home.” You whispered out as he settled into bed, allowing himself to get tangled within the blankets and you, throwing an arm over your belly to pull you flush against him. “How was practice? Are the boys doing well?” Shota gave quiet recounts of his day, not wanting to ruin the calming environment you’d had created. He’d talk about funny stories of recording with Theo and Keeho, how Jiung and Intak kept teasing each other during practice, and the new moves he created with Jongseob. You nodded along as you continued your little tasks in the game, Shota watching intently. 

It was only after you finished showing off your latest creation of a heart shaped pond did you notice that he had stopped talking and was watching you instead of the game, making your face heat up at the sudden attention. 

Shutting it down and putting it aside you turn back to him,“What’s up Sho?” Mumbling out as you slide further into the bed, shifting around until you're laid on his chest, leg thrown over his, peering up through your lashes until it’s his turn to shyly avert his eyes away from your stare. 

Nudging your chin into his chest to bring his attention back to you, you ask again, “What’s on your mind baby?”. It seemed so intimate, the way you whisper it, soft eyes looking up at him as he wraps his arms to press you almost impossibly closer to him. “I love you so much.” He says barely above a whisper as he locked eyes with you, a toothy smile spreading. 

A wave of warmth hits you as you bury your face in his chest, caught off guard by the confession. “You can’t just say that all of a sudden…” The words are muffled by his shirt but still causes an airy laugh to escape him. “You asked, didn't you?” Shota said, still amused by your reaction, “I’m just really grateful to come home to you, Y/n.” You could feel his heartbeat under your fingertips, the warm feeling infectious as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “I love you too, my alien.” Huffing out one of his signature noises, you’d smile attempting to echo it back to him. 

A home filled to the brim with warmth and love. Shota runs his hand up and down your back, sometimes stopping to draw patterns on your skin as your palm smooths against his cheek brushing his hair. Eventually your eyelids start to get heavier, as your breathing steadily falls into deep sleep, Shota holds you close whispering out “I’ll love you forever.” before shutting off the lights, joining you in dreamland. 

i hope you enjoyed, please like/comment/reblog as any interactions is greatly appreciated and motivating! ©mini-mews

[kneelingshadowsalome]

On my knees BEGGING for more of off the grid!König.

This is sooo self indulgent you wouldn't even believe 🥲🌲

He doesn't need to keep himself in shape, splitting and hauling wood all day does the job + he hikes a wide perimeter around your cottage to check the traps. Fixes everything from your old Jeep to the roof of your small house that luckily stays warm even during winters because the logs he picked are extra thick.

You still beg for more cuddles in the morning, not wanting to leave your warm nest of a bed. König sometimes has to rip you off him because seriously, Liebling, he has so much to do – only, his Achilles' heel is you, so the giant beast of a man tumbles back to bed to squeeze and tease you more than a few times before strolling to prepare some coffee on the stove.

Finally, he can walk around naked when there's no neighbours... The only "con" is that you're still teasing him about it, and bullying – when it comes from you – has a tendency to make him hard. Now look at what you did, woman... Can't a man even brew his coffee in peace? How is he supposed to get anything done with a boner like this??

If you throw a pillow at him – he's the one being indecent here, waving that horse dick around and almost poking someone's eye out with it! – he catches it and marches back to the bed to punish you. The punishing session makes you cum so loudly he has to kiss you silent, saying you're going to make him deaf one of these days, but you know that he's only pleased. In a quiet, calm place like this, your screams are only the music of angels to him, evidence of how good he is at keeping you warm, fed and satisfied.

After fucking you nice and tame he can finally start his day without distractions, whistling by the time he puts on the sturdy workpants and searches for his shirt. It's just so typical, him accusing you of distracting him while walking on cloud nine right after dipping his dick in you... But you're not complaining: still lying in the bed, happy as a worm after rain from what he did to you.

It's unfair that he's walking around like lovemaking was only another job scratched off his to-do list while you feel like you just got hit by a bear. Nasty man, who's in far too good shape compared to you... But then the nasty man brings you coffee to bed, and calls you a spoiled princess – living off the grid was supposed to be hard work but here you are, lounging on your soft down pillows like a queen while he does all the chopping and fishing and fucking :)

You know the man is more than happy when he feels useful and needed, and you do your share too in the garden that is simply flourishing this year, but you still blurt out that he should be grateful for having a woman to keep him warm. No sane girl would ever come to this secluded place and live with a horny nudist like him...!

König just kneels next to the bed and whispers in your ear: "It's a good thing you're not sane then..."

[the-winter-spider]

Say Don't Go | Part 3

Bucky x Reader 🏒

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Smut?? Fluff

A/N: IM SORRY here is the RIGHT part 3, sorry i didnt come on here sooner to see it lol 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

In my defence and my own dumbass mistake i had both part 3 & 4 labeled as part 3 in my google docs 🤪💅

----

Taking a shaky breath, you edge toward the kitchen, clutching Bucky’s jacket closer to your body as if it might anchor you. The hum of the party buzzes in your ears, a disorienting mix of music, laughter, and voices blending into an overwhelming blur. You tell yourself it’s in your head, that nobody’s actually looking at you—but you can’t shake the weight pressing against your chest. Every glance feels like a judgment, every laugh an accusation.

Once you made it to the kitchen, you spot a happy couple leaning against the counter, throwing back shots and laughing. They look carefree, like they belong here in a way you don’t. Still, they smile at you warmly, and before you know it, you’re lifting a shot glass with them. The sharp burn of alcohol hits your throat, the warmth spreading quickly through your body, loosening the tight grip of nerves in your chest.

“Here’s to good nights and no regrets!” the guy says, clinking his glass against yours. You laugh faintly, echoing his enthusiasm even as the knot in your stomach refuses to untangle. Setting the empty glass down, you make yourself a strong mixed drink, hoping the buzz will make the stares and whispers—real or imagined—fade into the background.

As you finish the drink, your phone buzzes in the oversized pocket of Bucky’s jacket. You consider fishing it out, but the thought of fumbling through the thick fabric feels too daunting. Besides, it’s probably just Steve checking in again, and you’re not ready to be reminded of how much you rely on him. Instead, you pour another drink for courage and step outside, hoping the cool air will clear your head.

The jacket slips off one shoulder as you move, revealing the strap of your little black dress. You barely notice, too focused on scanning the yard for Bucky’s familiar figure. The pulsing music inside fades to a low thrum as the night air prickles your skin. You sip your drink, letting the warmth settle as you wander further into the crowd.

Then, you hear it—sharp laughter, cutting through the noise. Your unsteady steps bring you toward the doorway where a group of people stands clustered. You don’t realize you’re about to bump into them until it’s too late, your drink sloshing slightly as you stumble forward.

“Hey, watch it,” one of the girls snaps, pulling back like you’ve spilled acid on her. Her eyes land on you, narrowing as they linger on Bucky’s jacket hanging loosely around your frame. “Oh, look who it is.”

You blink, trying to steady yourself. “Sorry,” you mumble, heat rising to your cheeks. But the girl’s sharp gaze doesn’t soften.

“Steve’s little friend, right?” she says, her tone dripping with mockery. “Always hanging around the rink like you’re part of the team.”

Another girl crosses her arms, smirking. “Must be nice, having Captain of the Hockey team babysit you.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words stick in your throat, tangled up in the buzz of alcohol and the sudden swell of insecurity. Before you can say anything, one of the guys grabs the collar of Bucky’s jacket, tugging it slightly and pulling you forward.

“Wait a second,” he says, his grin widening. “Isn’t this Barnes’ jacket? First Steve, now Bucky? Damn, you’re really making your way through the lineup.”

Laughter erupts around you, sharp and grating, drowning out the faint hum of music. Your stomach churns, and you feel your grip tighten around your drink as if it might somehow shield you from their words.

“Must be a new record,” another girl adds, her cold eyes scanning you like you’re a piece of gossip brought to life. “A little black dress and a hockey jacket? Nice combo if you’re trying to collect the whole team.”

“She couldn’t get half if she tried,” someone else scoffs, their voice laced with cruelty. “Look at her hair.”

You swallow hard, the sharp sting of their words cutting through the alcohol’s dulling haze.

“It’s always the quiet ones,” the first girl says with a smirk. “Bet she’s spreading her legs to keep their attention, since no one else will give her any."

The laughter that follows feels like a punch to the chest, the echo of it burrowing deep into your skin. You clutch the jacket tighter, the fabric warm against your trembling hands, but it doesn’t stop the tears welling up in your eyes. You lower your head, willing them not to fall, and push past the group without a word, your legs shaky beneath you.

The voices follow you, their laughter and whispers echoing in your mind as you stumble back inside. The warmth of the house is suffocating now, the press of bodies too close. You find a quieter corner near the staircase, leaning against the wall as you try to steady your breathing. Your hands tremble around the drink, your knuckles whitening with the effort to hold yourself together.

Pulling Bucky’s jacket closer, you close your eyes, the fabric brushing against your skin a reminder of him, of the warmth and safety you’d thought it represented. But now, even that feels tainted by their words. The ache in your chest deepens, spreading through you like a weight you can’t shake.

You tell yourself it’s just the alcohol, just the party, just the whispers. But deep down, you know the hurt has rooted itself somewhere deeper, somewhere harder to ignore.

When you finally spot Bucky in the backyard with Steve and Natasha, a wave of relief washes over you. Steve is looking around, scanning the crowd, just as he pulls out his phone and holds it to his ear. You laugh at the coincidence—until you realize he’s calling you.

Quickly, you weave through the crowd, catching Natasha’s eye first. She smirks, nudging Steve’s chest and pointing toward you. As both boys turn to see you, you lift a hand and wave, a bright smile on your face.

“Hi!” you beam, a little out of breath as you reach them. “I was looking for you,” you say, your gaze landing on Bucky with a small grin.

Bucky’s eyes light up with a smirk. “Yeah? Well, I was looking for you too, beautiful.”

“How much have you had to drink?” Steve asks, brow furrowed, his voice raised just enough to be heard over the music.

You shrug, letting out a little laugh. “Couple shots in the kitchen, and a couple of drinks. It’s a party, Stevie. Relax.”

Natasha sees the way you and Bucky are looking at each other, the chemistry electric between you, and she pulls Steve’s arm. “Steve, I want another drink,” she says, an amused smile on her face.

Steve gives you one last cautious look. “You two, especially you" His finger points at you "Stay put, alright? We’ll be right back.”

Neither of you acknowledges them leaving, your attention fully locked on Bucky now. He steps closer, his gaze roaming over your figure, taking in the way his jacket slips down your arm.

As Natasha and Steve disappear into the crowd, the world feels like it shrinks to just you and Bucky. He’s looking at you with that familiar smirk, one eyebrow raised, his eyes glinting with amusement as he takes in your slightly tipsy grin and the way his jacket keeps slipping down your shoulder.

“You make it a habit of getting lost at parties?” he teases, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Well, maybe I just like the thrill of being found,” you shoot back, trying to sound casual but feeling your cheeks warm as his smirk grows.

He steps a little closer, his hand still on your shoulder, fingers brushing against your bare skin as he adjusts the jacket so it sits more securely. “Could’ve told me you were coming out looking like this. I might’ve shown up earlier.”

You laugh, shrugging playfully, and roll your eyes. “Oh, please. You probably say that to every girl wearing your jacket.”

“Funny thing about that,” he murmurs, his gaze softening as it holds yours. “No one’s worn it but you. Didn’t think anyone else could pull it off.”

You look down, trying to hide the smile that spreads across your face, but he gently nudges your chin back up with his thumb, his touch sending sparks through you. He’s close now, the smell of his cologne and the warmth of his body making your head spin in a way the alcohol couldn’t.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost a whisper against your ear. “You look amazing.”

The compliment leaves you breathless, and before you can stop yourself, you reach up to adjust the collar of his jacket on your shoulder, your fingers lingering against the fabric. “Guess I’m a little worried I’ll end up spilling something on it,” you admit, laughing softly.

“Guess that means I’ll just have to keep an eye on you, huh?” he replies, his fingers trailing down from your shoulder, brushing against your arm. His hand finds your waist, resting there in a way that feels so natural, as if it’s always belonged there.

Your eyes drift to his mouth, and you realize how close the two of you are standing. Every word he says seems to pull you in closer, and you can feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek as he leans down just slightly. Your heart races as your fingers curl into the fabric of his jacket, holding on as if to steady yourself.

“Bucky…” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, his gaze dropping to your lips. He inches closer, his hand tightening just a little at your waist, drawing you in until it feels like the entire party has faded away.

But just as he leans in, a shrill voice cuts through the moment, breaking the spell.

“Well, isn’t this cozy.” You both turn, startled, to see Tiffany standing there, her arms crossed and a smug look on her face. You turn to see Tiffany, her arms crossed and a fake smile plastered on her face. Her eyes narrow, glancing between you and Bucky with thinly veiled contempt. “Didn’t think I’d see you here. Guess you’re trying a little too hard.”

The remark stings, but before you can react, Bucky shifts, standing a little closer to you. “What’s your problem, Tiffany?” he says, his tone firm and uninterested.

She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms and tossing her hair back as she turns her attention to Bucky, attempting a flirty smile. “I just thought you had standards, Buck. But I guess I was wrong.”

Bucky’s jaw tightens, and he slips his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “I do have standards its why nothing ever happened between us,” he replies curtly. “C’mon, doll, let’s go somewhere a little quieter.”

Leaving Tiffany standing there, embarrassed and fuming, he guides you away, his arm warm and secure around your waist, making you feel protected and confident as he leads you through the crowd.

The moment Bucky's hand closes around yours, you feel a spark—a warmth that spreads up your arm and settles in your chest. He leads you through the crowded house, his grip on your hand firm yet reassuring, like he's guiding you through the maze of people and noise. The murmurs and whispers of girls around you don't go unnoticed, but somehow they don't bother you. In fact, there's a warm, fuzzy feeling in your stomach, your head, and even your chest. Maybe it's the alcohol, or maybe it's just Bucky. Either way, it doesn't matter. You're with him, and that's all you care about. Your mind quickly jolts to Steve, what would he say? Would he be disappointed in you? Would he say he told you so if Bucky hurts you? Bucky wouldn't hurt you...right? The alcohol buzzing through your system shoves any and all common sense away.

You pass by the groups of people laughing, talking, and occasionally shooting you curious glances. But all you can focus on is Bucky-his broad back, the way his hand holds yours so easily, and the way he looks at you with that small smile playing at the corners of his lips, as though he's leading you to something important.

When you finally reach his room, he pushes the door open and lets you step in first. The room is quiet, private, a stark contrast to the noise of the party downstairs.

You glance around, taking in the space-there's nothing chaotic about it. It's neat, clean, and well put together. The bed is made, the floor spotless, and everything in its place, "It's not what I was expecting," you admit, turning to face him, feeling a little surprised.

Bucky raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "What were you expecting?"

You hesitate for a moment before answering, a teasing glint in your eyes. "A mess. You know, like clothes everywhere, maybe a pile of old pizza boxes."

Bucky laughs softly, his gaze softening as he steps closer, his voice lowering. "I'm a lot of things, but I'm not a slob."

"Clearly," you reply, smiling, your heart racing at the closeness between you two "I did expect that though" You nudge your head in the direction of the Hockey poster.

He follows your gaze and he laughs, its such a beautiful sound, a sound you wouldn't mind hearing for the rest of your life. There's a chemistry here, something undeniable, and it makes your pulse quicken.

He takes another step forward, his eyes scanning your face. "So, you like it?" he asks, his tone playful but also sincere.

"I like it," you answer, voice softer now. "I like this. Being here with you."

A moment of silence stretches between you, charged with an electricity that only seems to intensify. You both stand there, neither of you willing to break the tension first "I like it to..." His voice is low, hoarse almost hes afraid of his own words "I like it more than you know sweetheart"

Bucky steps closer until there's barely any space between you, his breath warm against your face. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, your body reacting to his presence. His hand lifts, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your skin. His eyes flicker down to your lips, and the way he looks at you sends a wave of heat through your body.

You instinctively lick your lips, and the sound of his sharp intake of breath is enough to make your heart skip a beat. "Can I kiss you?" His voice is low, a hint of desperation there that makes your chest tighten.

You nod, a soft, "Yes," slipping from your lips before you can stop it. The moment the words leave your mouth, Bucky closes the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that is both gentle and desperate. His hands come up to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as his tongue lightly grazes your lips, asking for permission. You part your lips, and he deepens the kiss, the heat between you building with every passing second. Your hands find their way to his chest, pushing him back slightly as your bodies press closer together. Bucky groans softly at the contact, and before you know it, you're backing up toward the bed, the kiss not slowing for even a second.

When your legs hit the edge of the mattress, you stop, breathless, staring up at him as he hovers above you, his eyes lock with yours, searching, asking, waiting for your consent. There's a moment of stillness before he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger there, a soft touch that feels like a promise. "Are you sure?" His voice is a whisper, thick with desire, but laced with the care he's always shown you. The way he says it makes your heart skip—he's not pushing, not rushing. He's waiting for you to take the lead.

You nod, sliding his varsity coat off your shoulders, a small smile pulling at the corners of your lips. "I'm sure," you whisper back, your voice barely audible, but filled with the certainty you've been hiding deep down. His eyes soften, a mixture of relief and something deeper-something raw.

Before you can take another breath, his lips are on yours, slow and soft at first, as if testing the waters, giving you a chance to pull back. But you don't. You melt into him, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. The taste of him is intoxicating, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that matches your own.

His hands slide down your back, firm but gentle, as though he's memorizing every inch of you. He pauses for just a moment, looking at you with a hunger that makes your pulse race. There's a slight hesitation in his eyes, as if he's waiting for a sign-an invitation to take things further. Your fingers tremble as they move to the hem of his shirt, and when he doesn't pull away, you tug it over his head, revealing the taut muscles of his chest. The sight of him takes your breath away, and your heart beats faster.

"You're beautiful," he murmurs, his voice husky, as he takes in your figure, his eyes filled with admiration and a quiet reverence. The words sink deep into you, igniting a fire that you hadn't known was there. His hands are back on you, skimming down your sides as he pulls you closer, his body pressing against yours. Your breath hitches as his lips trail down your neck, sending waves of heat to places you hadn't known were sensitive. You close your eyes, unable to stop the quiet gasp that escapes your lips as his mouth explores, leaving soft, lingering kisses along your skin.

Your heart is racing, your body on fire, and when he lifts his head, his eyes are dark, filled with something you can't quite name. But you don't need to. All you know is the overwhelming desire to be closer, to feel more of him. "Bucky," you breathe, your hands tugging at his belt, desperate to feel him even closer.

He freezes for just a second, his brow furrowing in concern. "Are you sure?" he asks again, his voice thick with emotion.

You nod, your hands on his chest, pulling him back into a kiss that's deep and urgent, a quiet plea for him to understand. "Please," you whisper against his lips.

The tension snaps, and in a flurry of motion, he pulls you back onto the bed, his body hovering over yours.

He pulls away just long enough to speak, his voice hoarse “You’re the most beautiful girl ive ever seen”

You meet his gaze, your voice steady, filled with doubt from earlier “You don’t mean that…”

He brushes hair behind your ear cupping your cheek “I mean every word i say to you” And then, with a tenderness that takes you by surprise, he leans down to kiss you again, and the rest of the world disappears.

Bucky’s hands roam your body with a reverence that steals your breath. His touch is both gentle and deliberate, as though he’s memorizing every curve, every hollow, every mark that makes you you. His fingers linger, tracing the swell of your breasts, the curve of your waist, the soft flare of your hips like an artist studying his masterpiece.

Your skin responds instinctively, goosebumps rising beneath his fingertips as your body arches toward him. Heat pools low in your belly, an ache that deepens with each passing moment, with every lingering caress.

He leans in close, his breath warm against your neck before his lips brush against the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. His kisses are slow and exploratory, his tongue darting out to taste your skin. A shiver ripples down your spine, and you tilt your head back, inviting him to continue. A soft sound escapes your lips, half-sigh, half-moan, unbidden but utterly sincere.

His hands venture lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your panties, his knuckles brushing against the heat of your skin. The first delicate touch against your most sensitive spot pulls a gasp from you, your hips lifting instinctively to meet him.

“Bucky,” you whisper, his name a plea caught somewhere between desire and surrender. You can feel him pressed against your thigh, the hard evidence of his own need. Knowing he wants you as desperately as you want him sends your pulse racing.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze. His blue eyes are darkened, heavy with longing. “Tell me,” he murmurs, his voice low, rough around the edges. “Tell me what you want. I need to hear it.”

You hesitate, the words caught in the knot of heat and nerves tightening in your chest. But the way he looks at you—like you’re the only thing in the world—gives you courage.

“I want you,” you admit, the confession trembling on your lips. “All of you. I need you, Bucky.”

The hunger in his eyes sharpens, and in an instant, his mouth is on yours again, claiming you with a kiss that leaves no room for uncertainty. His hands are deft and sure as he tugs at your dress, sliding it down your legs before casting it aside. He makes quick work of his remaining clothes, his movements deliberate, unhurried, until there’s nothing between you but the heat of bare skin and the weight of anticipation.

For a moment, he stills, his gaze sweeping over you with something like wonder. “You’re perfect,” he whispers, his voice a mix of awe and sincerity. “Absolutely perfect.”

You reach for him, pulling him closer, needing the press of his body against yours. He obliges, settling between your thighs, the warmth of him grounding and electrifying all at once. The anticipation tightens further, coiling like a spring as he trails his fingers down your body, finding the slick heat waiting for him. He teases, drawing out soft gasps and murmured pleas until you’re trembling beneath him.

When he finally slides inside, the world seems to still, the sensation washing over you in waves as you both exhale a shaky groan. His movements are slow at first, measured, as if savoring every moment. The rhythm builds naturally, every thrust pushing you closer, deeper, drawing soft moans from your lips and muffled groans from his throat.

The room fills with the sounds of your bodies moving together. His lips find yours again, his kiss deep and consuming, swallowing your quiet cries of pleasure as the tension between you mounts. His hands grip your hips, pulling you closer, deeper, as the pressure builds to an unbearable peak.

When the release comes, it’s overwhelming, an avalanche of sensation that leaves you both trembling. Your cry of ecstasy mingles with his, your bodies shaking in unison as you shatter together, caught in the same tide of bliss.

In the quiet aftermath, Bucky collapses against you, his breath warm and uneven against your neck. You wrap your arms around him, holding him close, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your chest as you both come down from the high.

Neither of you speaks, the silence heavy with unspoken emotion, but his hand finds yours, his fingers lacing through yours. It’s a simple gesture, but it says everything. Suddenly time stops.

[muntitled]

𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐬 | 𝐋.𝐉𝐡

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❝ 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 ❞

✧ Genre: Smut (M)

✧ Pairing: Lee Jihoon x Fem!Reader

✧ Summary: “Did you bring me into the studio as your engineer or your whore?” He nods his head playfully jutting his bottom lip out as if he's pondering something vastly philosophical. “It can't be both?”

✧ Warnings: Language, Established Relationship, Possessiveness, Jealousy, Bratty Reader, Weaponizing!Wonwoo, Fluff, Workaholics in Love, Teasing, Producer!Jihoon, Musical Engineer!Reader, Smut (+18), Daddy Kink, Neediness, Dom/sub dynamic, Coercion, Brat tamer!Jihoon, Dom!Jihoon, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Oral Sex (Male rec), Orgasm Denial, Breeding Kink

✧ Word Count: 3.9k

✧ Playlist when writing: Here

A/n: I love my boyfriend- I mean my bias.

Perhaps it was your fault. You should have known something was amiss the very moment Jihoon called you in the middle of your recording session with another artist. Your eyebrows furrowed when you picked up the phone, and you lifted one finger, signaling a quick recess to Wonwoo, who nodded calmly.

This was particularly uncanny because Jihoon never bothered you during work hours, and, in equal regard, you refused to bother him.

Out of respect for the craft, he refused to break you out of that very delicate mindset that he, as a creative, understood the significance of. Washington could be burning, and he still wouldn't dare interrupt you during work time. This somewhat sacred convenant was forged as a means to protect your relationship from your work personas. You did not particularly enjoy who Jihoon was when he assumed the sacremental identity of 'Woozi' and heavens knows you were equally as intolerable when you were stationed in front of a soundboard. You were both tyrants in your everyday lives, and even now, Wonwoo seems marginally relieved to have caught some semblance of a break as you huddle into the short corridor outside the studio.

So with a very perturbed but slightly worried voice, you swiped on the answer button and enquired, “Is everything okay?”

“No,” comes his instant reply. The knot between your brows have yet to unweave as you rest your back against a wall. Jihoon was by no means the most cheerful individual you had ever met, in fact, you prided yourself greatly on being the very few sources of genuine cacophony and laughter in his life. Seungkwan, of course, was your most fierce competitor.

Still, there is something grave in Jihoon's voice. It is a veneer of seriousness that is strange even for him. You had been able to gauge this sense of wabing patience in his tone just from one fickle like little word. 5 years in a vaguely conjugal relationship with a person would do that to you.

“I think I finally got the entire verse written.” Jihoon is surprised to find the lie tumbling so smoothly past the gates of his teeth, especially because he's normally so shit at lying. What was the point? When the person you were lying to had all your mannerisms memorized as if they were living in your body with you.

He taps his finger idly along the yellow notepad seated on his bouncing, restless knee. "We should record it now,”

You shake your head in complete discombobulation as you brought a finger to your lips in contemplation, "Why would you need my help? I thought you were working with another engineer."

His teeth grate irritably against each other, and he rolls his eyes in a flamboyant display of vexation as he exclaims, "Are you really in the mood to fish for compliments right now?" He asks tersely, "I should not need to tell you that you're my most trusted engineer,"

No matter how stoic your work persona was, she was not immune to flattery. The smile cracks the crevices of confusion along your visage, and Jihoon can almost feel the pleasure at his praise oozing through the phone.

"Now, if you'll please join me-"

“Can't." You respond. No matter how vulnerable you were to Jihoon's praises, you still remained fiercely loyal to your job. "I've got 20 more minutes in this session and after that I have to be at a meeting with the label, and I still have to go pick up that bouquet of flowers for our neighbor- you remember her cat passed on?"

"Just tell Wonwoo you have an emergency," Jihoon's reply has your eyes narrowing in skepticism. Not only was Jihoon fiercely independent, but he very rarely indulged you in his clingy side. Up until this very moment, you even doubted whether that side existed at all. "Cancel the meeting," he nods slowly, "And fuck the flowers, we hated that vermin anyway. Remember when her cat pissed in your peonies?" Jihoon ran his hand through his hair as he nodded with finality, "Fuck the flowers."

A sort of realization dawned within you, and you fought valiantly to keep the tone of self-righteousness out of your voice as you responded, “You're hijacking me from another artist.”

His hiss is instant and laced with venom, “Be glad I even allow you to work with another artist,”

Jihoon did not mean to slip up so badly, but he was also a man that would very rarely say anything that he did not actually mean.

“I don't like sharing,” he croons quietly over the line, “You know this.”

And so he let his words hang stagnantly in the air between you two, drying like wet, white linen in the wind. He pauses as if guaging your response to his raw words. Jihoon enjoyed doing this. He enjoyed giving you vague tidbits of what state of mind he found himself in without actually divulging his every thought. The ball was figuratively in your court, and he wished to see how you might respond.

Your throat clears your throat momentarily, letting your brain run rampant with myriad schemes. It was not very often that you would have the upper hand in your relationship. Dating someone like Jihoon, someone so comfortable being in control meant you constantly forfeited whatever power you had in your work life. Jihoon teased you. It was never the other way around.

"How badly do you want me there?"

"How badly do you want me to let you cum the next time I eat you out?" His voice is dripping with the weight of his threat and normally, you would find yourself quickly pushing yourself back into submission, but not this time. This time he needed you.

You are very secured in the realization that whatever reason Jihoon wanted you in the studio for - it was certainly not to record. There is a dangerous pool of excitement rushing through the conduit of your veins. He swears he can hear the titillating smile that blossomed across your face while you play idly with the Swarovski rock resting along your sternum. A gift from Jihoon. One of many.

“I don't know, Jihoon... What're you going to do for me in return? It's only fair that I'm adequately compensated for leaving a session."

"I'll let you cum tonight, I've already told you."

Jihoon is sitting reclined on his leather couch, his narrowed eyes piercing the wide soundboard directly in front of him. An egregious amount's worth of equipment sitting idly and completely untouched while his notepad sits on his lap, teasing him with its blankness.

Before he made the uncharacteristic choice to call you, Jihoon had been scrolling idly through his phone, in search of some bit of inspiration. He found himself opening his photos app, scrolling through his pictures that were filled mostly of you. Selfies you took with your face pressed against his unimpressed one. Mirror selfies showcasing what outfit you decided to wear, per his request and something else. Something he had forgotten he even had saved in his camera roll until the video was already rolling. At first glance, the scene was borderline animalistic. Jihoon's pale hand pressed down your arched back, while a steady hand recordinb you from above.

"That's a good girl-" he heard his own voice resonate through the speakers. It was like he was forced to meet his alter ego. A completey uncomfortable and fucking meta experience, especially because he was in the quiet of his studio.

Jihoon looked around his quiet studio, sensing no other infiltrating presence before he let his gaze fall back down onto the video. A deep shade of read crawled up his neck as he watched himself fuck you absolutely stupid from behind. You were both caught in a throws of your pleasure and incoherent words were thrown out in stuttering intervals.

"Fuck-Hoonie, I'm so close-"

"You're gonna cum for me, baby? You gonna let daddy cum in that pretty fucking pussy? You gonna let me breed you-"

"F-Fuck, Daddy- I'm," Jihoon heard himself swear in the speakers, and the video went wobbly before it came to a cataclysmic end. It was taken a week ago, when you both sat down to watch a movie. Needless to say, no movie had been watched because you were abundantly touchy, and Woozi decided to let you be.

Even though the video came to an end, he could not peel his eyes away from the screen. He watched it one final time before he searched for your name in the call logs and dialed.

His mind was empty, but his capacity for lust was never-ending.

Now not only was he combatting brutal inspirational drought, but he was nursing a semi erect cock that made him so fucking uncomfortable.

He did not need this shit from you right now.

"Are you sure threatening me with an orgasm denial is the way you wanna go right now, Hoonie?" He hated the self-interested smirk in your voice.

“This is not the time to be a fucking brat,” he hisses, perhaps unintentionally on the line. “Just get here,”

But the teasing lilt has yet to disappear as you chide, “Not a particularly ethical way to address your one and only trusted engineer, is it?” You asked sweetly, voice dripping with the amount of honey it would take to fill a honey farm, “At least Wonwoo respects my work,”

He laughs humorlessly before rolling his eyes. “You talk a lot of shit for someone already making their way over here.” And unfortunately, you were. You had shot Wonwoo a very heartfelt apology during your sparring verbiage with Jihoon while still gathering your belongings to make a break for his studio. You became so unnaturally predictable in his presence, like a lonely mould of clay, glistening and ready to be shaped into anything of his choosing.

Right now, his biggest obstacle is the very vexing fact that once you made it into his studio, you drifted in with your nose stuck in the air and the expectation that he is to actually put in work. Woozi greets you at the door, eyes shamelessly taking you in from head to toe while you refuse to do the same. A pastel baby tee clings to your chest like a second skin while the ends of a small mini skirt combat the summer heat.

“It's freezing in here,” you remarked while Woozi ogled you unashamedly.

“Don't fuck with my thermostat,” he says dismissively before pulling you into an indulgent hug. “I like it cold,” and his arms travel under yours, pressing your softness flush against his front. His face buries itself in between your neck and shoulder, feeling his restless limbs finally be coaxed into some sense of satisfaction. His nose brushes against your cheek, essentially nuzzling himself against you in a vaguely primal gesture and he sighs.

“Fuck, you're so soft.” His hand rubs slow circles on your lower back. Circles that gradually increase in size. Woozi snickers quietly against your skin. Big mistake.

He definitely thought he was slick.

Before the palm of his hand could skim over the soft mound of your ass you break away quickly. Your smile is professional, almost vexingly robotic as you swing past him. Your braided ponytail swinging behind you as you make your way to bring a second leather chair beside his own at the soundboard.

“I'm here,” you said, “Time to work,”

Jihoon stands idly for a while. With his hands on his hips, his tongue stabs at the corner of his mouth, “You really are on a mission to piss me off today, aren't you?”

You ignore him, choosing instead to let your bewildered eyes fall on the empty notepad discarded on the soundboard. In your periphery, Jihoon rolls up the sleeves of his black button up, flexing his arms lightly as if he was battling demons not to pin you against that very soundboard.

Expensive equipment be damned.

“Let's get to work,” You huff, prompting Jihoon to run a frustrated hand through his mid length, black locks. Effectively making the wolfcut appear even more messy and unkempt.

You looked away, agitated, with your blood pressure shot to hell. This would be a very long session.

・✧・

And a very long session, it was.

Noon had faded to dusk and dusk had bled into starlight while you and Jihoon sat stagnant in the studio, surrounded by creative frustration and a different kind of frustration you refused to give the adequate amount of time to.

Woozi murmurs distractedly, peering down at the guitar sitting atop his lap. He toys with strings while you attempt to mix and master the wet bar on the computer screen, toying with the beat until you find something that stuck.

That is what you and Jihoon have resorted to during the course of this evening.

Your Gucci sneakers are kicked off underneath the desk and the bra you had initially walked in wearing, is now sitting discarded on Jihoon's couch. The both of you are accommodating to the stifling studio air. You find yourself grateful Woozi had kept the temperature cool as you were losing a dire war with under-boob sweat.

“Hit record,” he suddenly says, “I think I've got something,”

The tone that feeds from the guitar into the amplifier, is angelic, damn near perfect, but the look on his face once he pulls the final string is troubled. He quickly jots something down onto the notepad that had been filled considerably since this session began.

“You've got to be kidding me,” You say, releasing a wistful sigh as you peer at Jihoon sitting beside you. “That was fucking gold! Don't tell me you're not satisfied.” Jihoon is only able to shake his head before placing the guitar gently against the soundboard. “I know… but-”

“But?!” You're leaning over your seat, invading his bubble with your eyes blown to saucers.

“But…” He says teasingly before leaning closer to you, letting his eyes scan over your face as he slyly says, “I'd rather be fingering something else.”

His exposed forearms flex when he brings a hand up to toy with the Swarovski necklace that hangs from your collarbone. His voice is as smooth as the sap running steadily from tree bark in a fairytale forest. It's completely and utterly enchanting and you find yourself unable to pull back and sit back in your own seat.

“You look so pretty, you know that?” he whispers lowly, and you're fully convinced that he must know of the effect his voice has on you.

Fortunately for you, self control is something you take great pride in, and your voice is steady when you speak, but your torso is still leaning over onto his seat as you ask, “Jihoon, what is this?” You are completely spellbound when Woozi brings his fingers up to your chin. He examines your face like an art critic coasting the archaic halls of the most ancient museum. He knew exactly how to get you to melt and concede. “You know I had somewhere else to be,” you scold yourself for letting the words tumble out of your mouth in a desperate whisper.

He only snickers quietly, his eyes still roaming over your visage as he says, “You know his album isn't going to be better than mine.”

You find yourself completely mystified as Jihoon coaxes you over the barrier, until you're begrudgingly straddling him on his seat. Your breath falters as your skirt begins to ride high on your hips and Woozi's callused hands immediately hug the curves of your wide hips. He's staring up at you, and you're significantly elevated from your position on his lap. Height is completely on your side but you'd be stupid to discount the fact that he's in complete control here.

His hands rub dizzying circles on your thigh as he says, “Or don't you agree?”

“With what?”

“That my album will be better than Wonwoo's,” he states his petulance so casually it has you reeling. The blood coursing through your veins only has your mind doing somersaults trying to grapple onto your steadily declining sensibilities.

“Your album is not going to be much of anything if you keep bringing me here just to get your dick wet,”

“Oh! That's what I was doing?” He gasps in faux surprise before shaking his head, “I had no idea!”

You roll your eyes to the back of your head, although you're not quite sure if that's out of vexation or the wave of lust that hits you when Woozi brings your core down flush against his lap.

“Seriously Jihoon,” you say, unable to keep the gasp from rolling out of your mouth, “Did you bring me into the studio as your engineer or your whore?”

He nods his head playfully jutting his bottom lip out as if he's pondering something vastly philosophical.

“It can't be both?”

The whine you release from your throat is downright lascivious as Jihoon buries his face in between your neck and shoulder. This time, however, you're unable to break apart. His iron grip keeps you firmly pressed against his lap, guiding your hips back and forth. A sharp shiver wracks through your spine when Jihoon slips out the tip of his tongue to lick small innocent kitten licks at the skin underneath your ear. You're positively buzzing with untapped energy that he only seems pleased to continue to build upon. Until you are coming undone at the seams.

You're not even sure whether your hips are grinding down on his bulge out of your own accord or his hands gripping the skin of your thighs.

“Jihoon, we should be finishing the track-”

“We've done enough,” he says before reattaching his lips to your neck, this time sucking and kissing violently at your sensitive skin. You're grinding down further, eyes fluttering shut as your fingers weave into the roots of Woozi’s long hair. “What if someone walks in?” you whisper, although, now Woozi is starkly aware that your words are carrying the weight of your own fantasy, “I really think we should get back to work,”

“Fuck me, you smell so good,” He breathes out, pulling back to reveal a flush face. Woozi’s cheeks are ruddy and his wolfcut is in complete disarray under the oppression of your tight grip.

You're moving your hips much more hurriedly against his lap and he never stops you. In fact, Jihoon slyly pushes his hand up underneath your shirt, his palm immediately making direct contact with your pert nipples.

“F-Fuck, Woozi.”

“I know baby, I know,” he murmurs, rolling your nipple between his fingers as your wetness seeps out through your underwear, right onto his lap.

“Shit, baby. You're such a messy fucking girl….” He's absolutely fargone under the gaze of lust. Murmuring incoherence as he pushes his hips up to meet your swollen clit. “My little girl is so fucking messy-”

“Jihoon- I'm gonna cum-”

“No you're not,” he says, immediately stilling your movements, bringing your restless hips to a crashing halt.

“Jesus- what the fuck?!” You're absolutely livid. Your limbs tremble not only, under the weight of your anger but by the strength of the orgasm that was going to wash over you.

“Earlier,” Jihoon says, “You asked me to finish this track but I don't know if I'm in the right headspace to finish it.” Your brows furrow in confusion and your voice resounds throughout the studio as you ask, “What!?”

“I said,” Woozi's hand slyly moves from your thigh, up your torso until he's resting it on the top of your head, as if he were petting you, “I don't think I'm in the right head… space,” he removes the hair tie from your hair, letting the braids scatter down your shoulders.

You immediately catch his drift.

“I've lost so many hair ties around here,” You say, “I'm sure you have a collection somewhere,”

Jihoon's tone is nonchalant as he applies a certain pressure on your head, “Mantle on the east wall, top drawer on the right. I keep them all.” he says before pushing you down, off his lap, until you were kneeling in front of him.

“Now, I need to fuck that pretty little mouth of yours, Baby.” He whispers, letting his thumb sink inside your mouth while his other hand unbuttons his slacks.

He is only able to lower his slacks enough to uncover his gardener cock, red and aching before he's pushing your head down onto it. Your lips fall open around Jihoon's cock and he immediately throws his head back. Cursing wildly before fisting your hair in a deathly grip that has you whining around his cock.

“Fuck I love the pathetic noises you make. It's so fucking hot.” His chest rises and falls feverishly as he forces you to take even more of him into your hollowed out mouth. You clench your toes and fight to take him in, until the tip of his cock is hitting the back of your throat.

“Fuck!” He hisses, keeping his other hand locked in his own hair as if he's utterly in awe of the sight of you. “You're such a good slut, you know that?” His words of affirmation does a terrific job at motivating you to allow him to steadily fuck your throat. His hips rise and fall from the couch, hitting that spot at the back of your throat that has his cock twitching in warning of his load fast approaching.

You ready yourself to swallow every single bit but it never comes, and Jihoon is forcing your head off his cock. A string of saliva breaking from your lips to the tip of his glistening cock.

“Sit on my cock-” He's already pulling you back onto your lap as if you are nothing more than his plaything. .

“fuck- n-need to cum inside you.” He doesn't take your panties off, only pushing the material to the side before he's spearing you onto his dick with reckless abandon. The tempo that he immediately sets is animalistic and hurried and absolutely sloppy. You fight to catch up.

“Fuck-Jihoon-” Once you adjust to the stretch, you're trapped in a state of interminable lust.

“Move this,” he breathes out, roughly pushing your shirt over your chest, “Need to see your pretty fucking tits,” his hands immediately latch onto your breasts and the sensation of being so utterly consumed by him as you riding his dick faster and harder.

“Fuck, just like that, baby. Just like that, pretty girl.” His head rolls backwards and you shudder as you orgasm sneaks up on you like a thief in the night. Your walls close tightly around his dick and Jihoon's cock twitches inside you.

“Shit- you're fucking clenching around me, baby,” He says, bringing his head back to gaze lovingly up at you-

“Please cum for me Jihoon-”

He's nodding non stop as he fucks up into you before burying his face between your breasts. You never stop riding him, not even when he brokenly exclaims, “Fuck- oh shit- baby I'm cumming- I'm cumming inside you-” and he's spilling his seed before he is able to finish his incoherent string of a sentence. You shudder as he paints your inner walls with his cum holding you tightly and pressing you down on his stuttering hips as if terrified that you might move away.

You have no energy to tell him you wouldn't dare. Instead, you let him hug you tightly, his face pressed into your breasts as he emptied himself inside of you.

“Shit!” He hisses when his orgasm subsides and his load begins to leak out of your puffy, used cunt.

“Thank you for helping me, baby,” He whispers sweetly. The traces of the old Jihoon steadily return and your heart clenches in warm adoration.

“That was all you.” You whispered.

[helloaugustmoon]

this is so classic wattpad plot but I literally do not care

Michael Jackson x she/her!reader

·˚ ◌༘͙[Keep The Faith] ! ˊ

Fishing has been one of Michael’s favorite hobbies for some time. Not in the traditional sense - he cannot sit still for long enough to actually go fishing - but rather by his own definition. Whether it be peering at the faces in the crowd at a concert, seeing faces pressed against the windows of cars and buildings he’s in, fishing is a term that Michael dedicates to peacefully viewing pretty creatures that appear just to see him when he’s passing through. In no way is it dehumanizing; he views it as comparing people to other beautiful things in nature, and in a comical sense too, of course. By now, his team is well aware of his traditions when it comes to fishing, only laughing along and agreeing with his comments pertaining to ‘nice fish’, all in jest and never something he’d consider seriously pursuing; he’d feel he had too much power over a fan that it wouldn’t be fair or just, it would be taking advantage, and that’s not something that sits well with him.

That is, until your face catches his eye.

Fan after fan came and went, greeting Michael and taking pictures while he signed their copies of ‘Bad’ and gifted him their most sincere praises. It was certainly lovely, never something he takes for granted, but to an extent, the social scale of the event can become quite tiring. He’s grateful the line is nearing its end, hoping that soon enough, he’ll be able to rest. But when Michael lifts his gaze from the table in front of him and his eyes meet yours, when he sees your smile- he swears to every holy thing he’s ever known, his heart stops. You aren’t screaming or hyperventilating, but you are trembling in a way that stirs the gentleman in him, wishing the circumstances would allow for him to perhaps offer his jacket to you. The smile on your face as you look at Michael is reflected right back at you, and his previous idea of having any power over a fan is single handedly erased by the existence of you. In that moment, had you wished it, he’d have dropped to one knee and ripped his own heart out to offer it to you. One word from you, and he’d do anything for you. All you had to do, was-

“Hi, Michael.”

And he’s yours.

Your voice is the sweetest melody he’s ever heard, and he already knows it’ll inspire more songs than anything ever has before. You are the siren to lull him to sleep, to guide him to the pearly gates of heaven someday, and he is nothing if not a devout worshiper at the altar that is you.

“I don’t want to take up too much of your time, you’ve already been here so long- but, I just wanted to thank you for the music you make and the message of love that-“

Is now and has only ever been meant for you, he realizes.

Words continue to fall from your lips like a steady stream, a peaceful and thought-out poem that touches every part of Michael’s very soul. And he sits there, smiling up at you as you stand before him, in absolute awe of you. The stars of the night couldn’t hope to hold a candle to the ones in your eyes.

“You don’t need to thank me, it’s my pleasure. It brings me joy to know that my music brings you joy, too.” He answers, his own voice softer than he’s ever heard it.

Your smile turns shy, then, and Michael wishes he had the kind of magic to seal this moment in a bottle, or lock it away in a drawer, so that on the lonely nights he foresees in his future he might gaze upon this moment again. You.

“What’s your name?” He asks you, the question feeling more like a desperate plea than a general curiosity, and when you do tell him your name, it’s immediately stitched into the very fabric of his being.

He wants to compliment your name for how pretty it sounds, how well it suits you, how he’ll close his eyes and whisper it to the sky before he falls asleep and wishes for you without being capable of waiting for a shooting star to do so. He wants to, more than anything. But for risk of seeming too forward, Michael only allows his smile to widen, tells you it was wonderful meeting you, that he hopes you’ll have a pleasant rest of your day, and then passes you back your copy of his album - signed with his name and a kiss that he simply couldn’t resist leaving for you.

Michael’s team exchange glances when his eyes linger on you, watching you leave until you are completely out of sight. At which time, he releases a sigh that is impossible to mistake as anything other than a swoon. With his longing being so obvious, a member of Michael’s team steps forward.

“Would you like us to ensure tickets for tomorrow night’s show, Sir?” The security guard offers, and is surprised when Michael only shakes his head, not offering a verbal answer as he turns his attention to the next person in line.

That night, Michael is ringing up an impressive phone bill from his hotel room, rambling to Janet about every shade in your eyes, every intricacy of you, every cadence you spoke in. After an hour, he finally leaves enough time for his sister to actually respond.

“So you made certain she’ll be at the show tomorrow, right?” It almost sounds rhetorical, not to mention sarcastic, coming from Janet - not that either would surprise Michael.

“No, no,” He shakes his head, leaning against the wall as he holds the phone to his ear, careful not to step too far from the cord. “I don’t want to enforce or engineer anything- that’s not love, that’s a script. If I’m meant to see her again, I will.”

Janet sighs at this, knowing Michael’s mind is set and that means he’ll be too stubborn to consider any alternative; his views on love and fairytales are so absolute, he’d rather spend a lifetime waiting for you and loving you anyway, than use the powers at his disposal to set up a meeting that could lead to a love story.

That said, Janet also knows that for you to have captured Michael’s attention so, you must be some girl. Women have thrown themselves at him from the moment he entered the spotlight - for him to not only notice one amongst the rest, but yearn for you so obviously and without any trace of hesitance, you must be something special. For that, Janet can only pray alongside Michael that somehow, some way, you will find your way back to him.

During rehearsals the following day, Michael finds himself envisioning you in front of the stage, using the idea of dancing to impress you, to woo you as his motivation for giving the performance tonight everything he’s got. No matter how bright the overhead lights of the stadium are, he can picture your smile widening when he dances around onstage, pointing at you as a means of dedicating the song to you, and you alone. He intends to do so regardless of the fact you won’t actually be there. Perhaps he’ll point at the stars, lest you see the footage and misunderstand that he’d ever point at another girl again.

The screams of the crowd do little to quiet the thoughts of you that continue to whirl around the mind of a lyrical genius, even when he runs out onstage to greet them. Breaking into the first song of the night, Michael puts his all into his performance as he always does, but can't help feeling that tonight he has a heavenly blessing in the form of your smile lingering in his thoughts, pushing him that little bit harder. It isn’t until the end of the first song that Michael stops moving for long enough to scan the faces he can actually see from where he stands, the distance from the stage to the front row being further than he’d like. Pausing only momentarily for a brief interval of fishing, Michael’s eyes trace over the front row. And then, he does a double take.

His heart must have been playing a trick on his eyes, surely.

He looks back again, feeling an irregularity in his own pulse when he struggles to find you in the sea of faces again, until whoever had been cruel enough to temporarily block the view of you happens to move just enough for Michael to see you again. Front row, clinging to the barricade like your life depends on it. And you’re smiling at him just the same.

His eyes lock with yours, the band behind him exchanging confused glances. By now, Michael should have given the cue for the second song to start, but the perfectionist has been entirely distracted by the very definition of perfect that he’s been waiting his whole life for. It takes several seconds for him to accept the reality that you really are right there, but as soon as he does, the smile on his face is so big he’s concerned it’ll split his face in half. Giving the cue for the second song to start, Michael points right at you.

“You knock me off of my feet now baby, HOO!”

Throughout ‘The Way You Make Me Feel’, Michael’s gaze connects with yours, and he doesn’t shy away from devoting the song to you in every way he can. If it weren’t for the rehearsed role of the woman onstage that he’s barely even noticing, he’d have pulled you up here with him. Instead, Michael settles for pointing at you, winking at you, and holding your gaze while singing lyrics and dancing in ways that leave no room for misinterpretation.

He continues this for the remainder of the setlist, a plan forming in his head over the course of the next few songs. Because now that divine intervention has resulted in you being right here with him again, who is he to stand and do nothing in the face of that? Of you?

With the instrumental for Liberian Girl beginning behind him, Michael sets his plan into action. Against the better judgment of his security, he jumps from the edge of the stage, making a beeline for where you stand in the front row, every face except yours blurring into his peripheral vision, the increasing volume of the screams of the crowd fading into nothing with the way your smile brightens, the closer he gets to you. Realizing how disastrous this could be, Michael’s security lunge forward to lift you over to the barrier, holding back the other fans that try to climb over with you. And then, Michael’s hand is taking yours, holding it so gently, his free hand bringing his mic back to his lips.

“Liberian girl, you came and you changed my world, a love so brand new…” He sings, eyes holding yours with reverie as he guides you by the hand until you’re standing onstage with him.

The very second there’s enough time in between lyrics, Michael lifts your hand to kiss your knuckles, and that shy smile he’s already dreamt of appears on your face again. With the gentlest movement, he pulls you closer to him, inviting you to erase the distance that he’s desperate to be without, and you’re hardly going to hesitate. You let go of his hand to instead wrap both of your arms around his neck, and Michael has never cursed not having a headset more than on the occasion that he can now only hold your waist with one arm because he’s required to use the other to hold up his microphone. Sometimes, the world is too cruel to comprehend, he thinks. Still, a man can't complain about getting to hold you in any capacity.

“More precious than any pearl…” Michael sings, his voice soft in your ear, intimate despite the scale of the concert itself that surrounds you.

Unable to resist the urge a moment longer, he starts to sway with you in time with the music, melting into the most perfect slow dance on a stage with an audience of thousands, but feeling like the only two souls in the universe.

When the song draws to a close with notes that have you ascending to an astral plane, the crowd screams with enthusiasm like never before, and Michael lowers his microphone. Wrapping both arms around your waist at long last, he leans to your ear to ensure that you can hear him.

“I prayed I’d see you again.” He tells you, his voice so sincere.

“You must be on pretty good terms with God, then.” It’s all you can do to prevent yourself from collapsing in his arms at words like the ones he just spoke.

“I think I must be.” Michael chuckles. “Now, I owe him more than ever.” His arms tighten around your waist, and your heart splutters in your chest.

Knowing that this moment is one that needs to be put on hold for now, Michael sighs, moving one hand to hold the back of your head.

“Would you mind waiting for me, backstage?” He wonders, and when you shake your head into the crook of his neck, his entire body relaxes with relief.

“See you after. Break a leg.” You wish Michael luck, surprising him with a kiss on his cheek and then stepping away from him.

His hand trails down your arm, to your wrist, and holds your hand for every microsecond he can until you slip from his grasp, but his smile is unwavering. Michael watches you leave, waiting until you’re safely situated backstage with his best security guard at your side, and then he blows you a kiss that you catch in an instant. With an effortless, expert kick in the air, Michael breaks into his next song. And he cant help looking over at you longingly every so often, just to check the perfect vision of you is still there, still waiting for him. Still smiling at him.

[lovegalor333]

fresh start

part nine (chapter 25) previous part • my masterlist

word count: 2.8k

content warnings: none!

Lily

Paige and the team left early yesterday morning for their game at Minnesota today. Travelling for game days, unfortunately, wasn't part of my job so Kayla, Madison, Hannah, Kelsey and I were all lounging on the couch, each tucked under a blanket, excitedly waiting for tip off.

After agreeing to go home with Paige for Thanksgiving, it was decided that I would travel there after classes finished tomorrow and Paige would pick me up from the airport. After Thanksgiving, Paige had to fly directly to the Cayman Islands for a tournament so I'd be flying back to campus alone.

Now the season had started, I had to get used to Paige being away more often, I didn't like it but it was inevitable and it just means that the time we do spend together is even more special.

"Are you all packed for Minnesota, Lils?" Madison asks me from her place at the end of the couch.

"Pretty much, just need to add the last few bits but I'll do that before I leave in the morning." I tell my roommate.

"I can't believe you're going home with your girlfriend for Thanksgiving break! Who would have thought it?" Kelsey says from beside me, leaning her head on my shoulder, "Single Sisters was extremely short lived." She laughs referring to the pact we made when we first met.

"I know! It feels weird but also right at the same time." I say thinking about my relationship with Paige and how it was never my intention to have a girlfriend again so soon but life and love works in mysterious ways and I'm so glad it worked out like this.

The conversation faded out as the game between UConn and Minnesota started and all of our attention was fully focused on the TV as familiar faces in white jerseys moved about the court.

Kayla had kindly offered to drive me to the airport to catch my flight and we had just arrived.

"Thank you for dropping me, K." I say as she pulls into departures parking.

"No worries, have a safe flight and enjoy Minnesota." She smiles her signature smile and I hug her over the console before getting out of the car.

After leaving Kayla, I immediately put my headphones on and shuffle my playlist. Controversially, I really like airports. I would always arrive earlier than necessary to ensure I didn't need to rush. I enjoyed picking out snacks for the journey and most of all, I loved knowing that I could be in my own world, listening to music, staring out of the window for the entirety of the upcoming flight.

After passing through security and buying my favourite snacks, Jolly Ranchers and Gold Fish, I just sat and patiently waited at my gate for boarding to begin.

hi pretty girl

have a safe flight, cant wait to see you

love you

hi p

boarding is just about to start

ive missed you so much

see you soon, i love you

I smiled at the text conversation between Paige and me. I felt extremely grateful for how my life had done a complete one eighty spin from a few months ago. I was happy, I had a beautiful girlfriend who loved me without reservations, I had genuine friends that supported me, I had a job that I adored and I wanted to be alive and stay alive. If I could go back at tell past Lily that, I know for a fact, she'd call bullshit.

The flight was quick, less than three hours and once we were up in the air it felt like we began our descent almost immediately.

I had collected my luggage, it wasn't big as I was only here for a few days, and was making my way through arrivals where Paige said she would be waiting.

"Oh my god." I say under my breath as Paige finally comes into view. She's stood a few feet away from me, looking as beautiful as ever. Her hair is down, tucked behind both ears and from the slight wave in it, I can tell it's been recently washed and left to dry naturally. She's dressed casually, in a grey tracksuit and Air Max 95s but it's the huge bouquet of flowers in her hand that has my jaw on the floor.

It takes a moment for Paige to register that I'm walking towards her but when she does, her face breaks out into a big grin and she takes the few strides needed to close the gap between us.

"Hi babe." I say melting into my girlfriends hug, taking in her scent that I've been deprived of the last few days.

"Hi my pretty girl. How was the flight?" Paige asks with me still in her arms.

"Super quick but I'm tired." I respond. Admittedly I'd not slept well the past few days, sleeping alone, without Paige wasn't something I was used to, so her being gone definitely felt foreign.

"You can sleep in the car. Oh and these are for you, obviously." She says handing me the bunch of flowers. They were a mix of pink and white dahlias with the odd stem of leaves, they were beautiful.

One thing about Paige, she was the best flower giver. She knew the perfect time to get them and every bouquet I've received from her and has been filled with the most pretty flowers.

Paige took my bags and I carried the flowers as I followed her to her car. She opened the passenger door for me before loading my bags into her trunk. I reached into the back seats and carefully placed my flowers down.

"Here." Paige said getting into the driver's seat handing me a blanket. Her blanket. Her favourite blanket that she slept with every night in Connecticut.

"Thank you." I say covering myself over and resting my head on the window. The blanket smelt like Paige and even though she wasn't, it felt like she was hugging me, it was comforting.

One of Paiges hands rests on my leg as the other steered the car as we began driving to her family home. My eyes fluttered shut, feeling safe and content and most of all loved beyond belief.

Paige

Having Lily here in the house I grew up in felt natural as soon as we stepped inside. My heart warmed watching her interact with my family, especially Drew.

They were currently stood side by side at the kitchen counter, sleeves rolled up to their elbows as they took it in turns pouring in various ingredients and mixing together the cake batter.

I kept my distance and just observed as the two most important people in my life bonded and got to know each other.

"Paigey actually ruined Thanksgiving last year." My little brother tells Lily and she laughs.

"Really? What did she do?"

"She said she was going to make the best cake ever and nobody was allowed to help and I didn't eat any candy all day because she said her cake was so good." Drew reminisced on last year, "And then we tried it and it was actually the worse cake ever! I had to spit it in the trash."

"Hey, it's not my fault I confused the sugar with salt." I interject, poking my brother in the side causing him to giggle and in turn fling his arms up to protect himself,  but as he does a dollop of cake batter flies off the spoon and lands on Lilys face.

Once Drew realises what he's done he quickly apologises to Lily but I can't hold back my laughter.

"It's OK Drew, no harm done." Lily says with a sweet smile but when her eyes flick to me, she's glaring intensely. "Funny, Bueckers?" She asks raising her brows.

"Just a bit, yeah." I say still giggling.

"Oh OK, so you won't mind if I just," she dips her hand into the batter mixture and before I can register what she's about to do, she smears it across my cheek, "do that."

As quick as my giggles stop, Lilys and Drews start and I'm too busy focused on Lily to notice Drew also dipping his hand into the mixture before wiping in down my arm.

"Oh I get it. It's two against one." I say slightly offended my own brother would choose Lily over me but at the same time loving it because them having a good relationship means a whole lot to me.

"Drew, I think we should run." Lily says being able to read my facial expression perfectly and both of them set off running away from me but I grab the full bowl and go after them.

"I'm literally an athlete, I'm going to catch you guys." I say as I follow them.

Drew is running at full speed whilst screaming and dodging pieces of furniture so he doesn't trip and Lily isn't far behind him, also dodging furniture but laughing so much it's slowing her down.

I change my tatic and go back on myself knowing that Drew and Lily will walk or...run into me and I'm right.

"Ha! Got you!" I triumph as Drew unknowingly runs right into my path and I scoop him up with one swift movement and with my hand already covered in cake mix, I swipe it across his face.

"Lily, save me!" Drew shouts in my arms and he kicks and wriggles his body trying to get me to release him.

Lily's by our side seconds later, "Don't worry, I've got you!" She reassures and lunges for the bowl picking up the spoon and flicking it in my direction, sending mixture straight into my face.

"OK that's it!" I say adjusting Drew so he's over my shoulder and I run full speed at Lily.

She lets out a screech but she can't move fast enough so I manage to hook my free arm around her waist, "Now everyone say Paige is the best." I say gripping onto both of them.

"Paige is the best." They both mummble knowing they've been beaten.

"And Paige always wins, she never loses." I try my luck.

"OK, that's pushing it P." Lily says and she manages to wriggle out of my grasp so I place Drew down too.

"Truce?" Lily asks out stretching her hand, "Truce." I reply shaking her hand and then my brothers.

We salvage what's left of the cake batter and pour it into a tin before it goes into the oven to bake.

"OK, go clean yourself up buddy." I say to Drew and point him in the direction of the bathroom before Lily and I start to tidy the kitchen.

"He really likes you, you know?" I say to Lily as she washes dishes at the sink and I wipe down the surfaces.

"I love him." Lily says and my heart bursts, "Being an only child, I feel like I missed out on something. I wish I had siblings to have these moments with."

"You can have these moments with us. My family is your family, Lils." I say going over and standing behind her, I wrap my arms around her waist and rest my head on her shoulder, "Thank you, P. I love you." She says spinning around so we're face to face.

“I love you." I lean in and press a kiss to her lips, "Although, you're slightly sticky." I say as I pull away.

I pick up a cloth, "Come here." I motion for Lily to come over to the kitchen island, she does and I lift her up onto the counter.

I gently wipe away any left over batter residue on Lilys face and from my place inbetween her legs, I'm taken back to the night in my bathroom after the frat party.

I think about how much Lily and I have been through since then and how much my love for her has grown and I can only hope it continues that way.

"What are you thinking about beautiful?" Lily asks cupping my face with her hands.

"You. Me. Us. How much I love you and want you in my life forever."

"You've got me Paige. In everyway." She says pulling me closer and crashing her lips to mine. My hands instinctively rest on her thighs and slowly make their way up to her waist. I feel her groan into my mouth at my touch so I deepen the kiss, making it needier, sloppier. Lily's legs are around my waist and her hands are in my hair and it's a feeling I want to bottle and save for later because I know my little brother will be back in the room at any moment.

I reluctantly pull away, "Drew will be back any second." I say and right on cue the boy walks back into the kitchen.

He looks at Lily and me and the way we're positioned, Lily still perched on the counter top and me inbetween her legs, hands on her thighs and his head tilts to one side and I know he's about to say something.

"Paigey, are you going to marry Lily and have babies?" He asks full of innocence but Lily and I almost choke.

"We're still really young right now buddy." I try and answer as diplomatically as possible.

"What about when you're bigger, like mom and dad?" He continues to push the topic.

"Well, don't tell anyone," Drew nods rapidly in agreement as I speak, "but if Lily will have me, I'll happily put a ring on it and make her a mommy." I say cheekily squeezing Lilys thigh, earning a shove from her.

"Your sister is one of a kind, you know that Drew?" Lily ask jumping off the counter.

"Uh huh." Drew agrees and I smile as we all make our way into the living room to inevitably watch another cheesy holiday movie.

Lily

Paiges dad and stepmom had filled the table with the most delicious looking and smelling food I'd even seen. Thanksgiving dinner was not like this back home in Boston, in fact if my mom could avoid cooking all together, she would. I spent a lot of Thanksgivings at Emmas house and Christmases too, as a family we weren't very festive but the Bueckers were the complete opposite.

Paige was sat inbetween Drew and me with their parents opposite us, we each had a small glass of wine - Drew excluded and Paiges dad, Bob raised his glass, "It's tradition that we say something we're thankful for before dinner. Lily, as our guest, would you like to start?"

I look to Paige, slightly put on the spot but I don't know why because I know what I'm thankful for. It's easy, I don't even need to think about it. Paige sends me a small smile and a quick nod and I pick up my glass, "I'm thankful for my life right now and everyone in it. A few months ago things were very different and it was hard for me to see an end to that but going to Connecticut, changed everything. It saved my life. I wanted a fresh start and I got that. I'm thankful for all of the beautiful friends I've made, I'm thankful for the opportunities I get everyday to learn and grow and I'm especially thankful to be sat here. I'm thankful for being welcomed in your family and home as if I've always been a part of it. It truly means the world to me."

Under the table, Paiges hand squeezes my thigh in support and she leans over pressing a kiss to my cheek.

"I think that deserves a toast," Paiges stepmom says and everyone raises their glass of wine, even Drew picks up his juice, "to Lilys fresh start. May she continue to grow and blossom."

We all clink our glasses together and I have to fight back tears.

"And let it be known," Bob says, "anyone who makes my daughter as happy as you is always welcome in this family."

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

[mmogurl]

Daddy Issues Part 4: Comfort

18+ | 3.2k | Homelander X Reader |  protective homelander, reader’s back story is a little dark, reader might be a bit of a nympho, mentions of suicide, rape, assault, alcoholism, emotional child abuse. This was supposed to be the last chapter, but the story has officially been extended by at least another chapter or maybe one more if I’m feeling froggy. Enjoy!

Part 1: Savior | Part 2: Baseline | Part 3: Spoiled | Part 4: Comfort

Tags: @screaming-potato

As Homelander busies himself putting out the fire, you attempt to undress for bed, but since the tent is not high enough for you to stand in, you find the task much more complicated than it should be. It’s a strained process of getting on your back and awkwardly pulling your designer jeans off, especially as they get stuck around your calves and you flounder like a fish to get them fully past your ankles. You’ve literally never had to take your pants off like this and you consider it a downside to camping.

Other than the lack of height, the tent is rather spacious, pleasant even. You sit up, sliding your hoodie over your head and fold it briefly before tossing it to the corner. Looking down at your chest, you beam when you see the Journey logo on your t-shirt. You’ve never actually been to one of their shows, but you still really love the band. In fact, it’s one of the few good memories you have of your mother: listening to music together. It’s one thing she had good taste in at least.

In nothing but your shirt, bra, and underwear, you snuggle down into the bed Homelander has prepared that takes up most of the tent’s floor. There’s some kind of padding beneath you that is way more comfortable than it has a right to be considering you’re sleeping on the surface of dirt and grass. He’s lined it with an unraveled sleeping bag, large enough for two to lay on, with another placed on top to use as a blanket. It’s clear he has no intention of sleeping separately from you, even when in the close confines of this shelter.

It’s already quite dark by the time Homelander unzips the outside flap to the tent and comes inside. He drops a few bags of supplies to the side and turns on a solar powered lantern. You squint as your eyes adjust and he begins to disrobe, wondering briefly if he turned the light on just to torture you. He unfastens the bib of his supesuit, pulling it down to the side to reveal the zipper underneath. You can barely concentrate on the small talk he offers as he removes the jacket and places it in a neat pile besides his already folded cape.

“I think our first camping trip was a success, don’t you?”

“Mmhm,” you reply close-mouthed, already biting your lip as he takes off his belt, unbuttoning the top of his tight blue pants.

You can’t take it anymore and turn away from him, trying to calm yourself as you feel the blush rising in your cheeks, your heart pounding. Sure, he slept in those damn red briefs every night, but usually he came into the bedroom already wearing them. You never got to watch him strip though and you can’t help but be overwhelmed by the desire you’re feeling as a result.

It’s not like these thoughts are helpful, since you already tried to broach the topic of your relationship earlier and Homelander dodged you, opting instead to talk about his past. You’re grateful he opened up to you, but still feel tormented by your feelings for him. Considering the two of you are already going through the motions of living as a happy couple, it feels strange to not be romantically involved.

You hear the rustle of sleek fabric as Homelander slides into the makeshift bed, close, but still a too-safe distance away. “Did you have a good time tonight?” he asks, his tone with a hint of worry as though he’s afraid you didn’t.

Braving the vision of his bare body that no doubt awaits, you turn back to face him. He’s propped himself up on his pillow, his weight on his elbow as he looks you over for signs of negativity. Thankfully, he’s mostly covered with just his waist up exposed. It’s still difficult not to gulp as he continues to talk.

“Were the hot dogs too burnt? Maybe I should get a grate for the pit. Make it like a grill…” he’s rambling on about his ideas, looking off to the side as he considers the possibilities.

You can’t help but wonder if he’s as nervous as you are or if he’s just oblivious. It’s sometimes hard to tell with Homelander.

Clearing your throat in an attempt to focus your sex starved brain onto the matter at hand, you interrupt him. “Yeah they were a little burnt, but it’s OK. It’s not like I’ve ever cooked a hot dog over an open fire before. So, I’m not complaining.” You shift between the blankets, rolling onto your back as you cross your hands beneath your head.

Homelander lets out a sigh and your turn your head to see that he’s mimicked your position. He’s looks at the ceiling of the tent, folding one hand under his head and resting the other on his stomach. He glances back at you, giving a small hum in response, as if he were lost in thought for a moment.

“Yeah, it’ll be better next time. We just need a little practice,” he says with an unsure grin, turning his attention back to the ceiling. It’s quiet for several moments and it seems like the conversation is going to die, until he finally adds, “You know. I’m glad you’re here… with me.”

You give him a touched smile, surprised by his direct display of affection. You’re used to reading between the lines with Homelander, judging how he feels mostly by his actions when there is a lack of meaningful words. Even though you know he appreciates your company, especially given he is so desperate for it, it’s a nice change to hear him actually admit it out loud.

“Yeah, me too,” you say feeling at a loss for words. “This was a cool idea.”

His features seem to relax considerably when you return the gesture with gratitude. You can’t help but get distracted by the cold glow of the lantern reflecting in and accentuating his already blue eyes, but you don’t miss when they travel down your form. His glance flicking down your shoulder and to your side, then hanging longer than usual at the tease of your thighs peering out from under the sleeping bag.

When he sees you take notice, he tries to play off his leer with concern. “Are you cold?” he questions, his voice coming off casual.

You raise your brow knowingly, but let is slide. “Nah,” you reply with a smirk. “These bags are surprisingly warm. They’re almost too hot.” You glance down at your legs and decide to kick the blanket off further. “Besides, I always sleep like this.”

His eyes darken as he takes in the expanse of your bare legs. Homelander swallows, trying to keep his cool, but failing miserably as his gaze lingers persistently on your newly exposed skin.

“Always, huh?” He comments absentmindedly, the corner of his mouth twitching.

You had hoped to get his attention, sure, but now you can’t take the oppressive way he is staring at you. You’re not sure if it’s creeping you out or turning you on - it’s probably a combination of both. You try to think of a way to make things feel less awkward and manage to murmur out something anything but.

“Besides, at least I have a shirt on… You’re a pair of briefs away from being completely naked.” It sounds better in your head, than when you actually say it. Shit! Your squirm internally, realizing you’ve just backed yourself further into a corner. If this were any other situation, you’d gladly take the opportunity to jump his bones, but this is different. He is different.

Homelander scoffs with a look of incredulity. “I-I’m never cold,” he tries to assert with false bravado, but his tone falters under your gaze. He stumbles over his next words, trying to maintain his usual cockiness. “I’m a supe… A-and my body generates a lot of heat.” He mutters, trying to excuse his propensity to wear minimal clothing in bed.

“So, that’s why it always gets so damn hot,” you consider openly, distracted momentarily by the revelation. It seemed every night since you started staying with Homelander, you woke up sweating, having to kick the covers off completely from the sweltering heat. “Hmm,” she muses, “Well at least we won’t need a space heater in here.”

“No need for that,” he mutters, his tone lower than before.

The drop in octave is a subtle warning that forces your attention back to him, but not quickly enough. In a flurry of movement, the sleeping bags ruffle loudly as Homelander pounces on top of you. His eyes are wild, almost feral, as they rove over your body, his hands pinning your arms to the ground.

“I can keep you warm, beautiful,” his voice is smooth and strangely confident considering how cringe the line had been. You’re pretty sure from the way he was stammering just moments ago, that it’s an act though. You can’t possibly mind, given the close proximity of his body and how good he feels weighing down on you.

But the reality of what’s happening begins to dawn on you, your eyes growing wide as he traps you beneath him. Why is he making a move now after he’s ignored the temptation of you for so long? And why does it feel so forced and wrong? It should feel perfect given everything else the two of you have shared so far.

You find protest and confusion are the first emotions that war to the surface. “U-Uh… Homelander?” you say stupidly, unable to even focus with the feel of his bare legs against yours and his cock stiffening against your thigh. “W-what are you doing?”

Homelander’s chest rumbles with a low growl when you question him, as if your words pissed him off. “What does it look like?” he snaps back, his voice dripping with annoyance.

He tightens his grip on your forearms, his knees forcing your legs further apart so he can settle his hips against yours. He’s untethered, unlike his usual calculated persona, and there’s an element of desperation marking his features.

His eyes are dark now, the sky blue color drowning in dilated pupils. “I’m doing what I should have done weeks ago.”

“W-wait…” you find yourself babbling. “Shouldn’t we- Shouldn’t we talk about this first?” You gulp, the spit getting stuck in your throat as your try to swallow. You plead with him, your lip trembling slightly with the implications of what this will mean for your fledgling relationship.

He starts lifting up your shirt with a devious grin plastered across his face and you’re instantly torn between so many warring emotions. Lust and the deprivation of release that sex had provided you with is hugely present, but there’s also a remorse, a shame hanging heavy on your conscience. It would be so easy to let go and indulge in what he was offering, but….

“I don’t want to fuck this up!” you bark out suddenly, almost confusing yourself by the sound of it.

Homelander’s smirk falters for a moment, his eyes slightly narrowing in response. His hand pauses in the act of lifting your shirt any further, and he looks positively morose.

He pulls away completely then, retreating back to his own space and leaving you cold in the absence of his heat. Homelander regards you with a cross expression, urging you to clarify.

“What do you even meant by that?” he asks, the lurid aggression now gone from his voice, replaced with sharp accusation. “I thought you wanted this.”

“I do,” you say feeling stupid for sounding so contrary. “But, you haven’t shown any interest in me all month. Then all of a sudden you jump my bones? Why did you change your mind so suddenly about us?”

Homelander lets out a weary sigh, folding his arms against his chest as he looks away. He’s clearly not enjoying this change of mood, but he does offer a response.

“Nothing’s changed suddenly,” he grumbles with bitter emphasis. “I’ve wanted you for weeks now, you have no idea…” he admits sullenly, his eyes shifting back to you.

“It’s just…” he trails off with a groan. “It’s a little harder for me than you might think. And I didn’t want you to think…” He stops himself short, letting a huff through his nose before continuing in a much softer tone. “To think that I just wanted you… for that…”

You stare at him bewildered for a moment, almost amused by his petulant manner. It takes a moment to even understand what he’s getting at, but then you finally grasp what he means.

“Ohhhh,” you say sounding like an astonished stoner. “You mean, you didn’t want me to think you were just interested in sex?”

He is clearly a little embarrassed now, his cheeks flushing and his eyes looking off to the side again in avoidance. He looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here in this tent, having this conversation with you.

Reluctantly, he mutters out, “Yeah…”

You feel a pang in your heart, trying to hold back the reaction you want to give which undoubtedly would involve tearing up as you let out an ‘Awwww.’ It’s so fucking adorable how impossibly awkward he is, how he’s always trying even when it seems like he’s being shitty and inconsiderate.

Your body acts on its own accord, getting to your knees as you crawl towards him, hesitant if only for the lack of clothes between your bodies. In the past, you’d have been so forward with him, not even hesitating if he came on to you. Now you find yourself afraid to make the wrong move.

You place your hands on each of his knees, looking at him as the memories flood back. The whole point in Homelander taking you in had been to rehabilitate you in a away. ‘You need someone to save you from yourself’ as he had so aptly put it on that life changing night. It was no wonder he was now torn by the idea of fucking you.

“And you don’t want to be a part of the problem?” you ask, feeling like you’ve got a pretty good grasp on the issue at hand now.

Homelander tries poorly to maintain a look of stoicism, glancing almost neurotically at your hands traveling up his thighs. He reaches down to grab your wrists, keeping them from moving any further as though trying to isolate himself from your touch.

“Yeah, something like that,” he replies, trying to brush it off.

You offer him a smile as the warmth of his thoughtfulness fills you with content satisfaction. Never before has anyone been this considerate of your well being and even though you had your doubts about essentially being held hostage by Homelander’s good intentions, you are are now incredibly grateful that he cared enough to try.

Slipping your wrist out from his loose grip, you rear up on your knees, placing a hand tenderly on his cheek. “Thank you,” is all you can even think of to say, because it’s all that keeps running through your head. How appreciative you are for this experience, a connection you didn’t think was possible with another person.

Homelander leans into your touch as though starved for affection, his cheeks hot under your gentle touch. A reverent look settles in his eyes as he processes what you’ve said, and he pulls you onto his lap with an urgent need. His arms wrap around your waist, holding your tightly against him, acting as though he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go.

You’re startled at first by the closeness and strength of his embrace, but you relax quickly. Cradling his head against your chest, you run your fingers through his hair, soothing him because it just feels like he really needs that right now.

“Look, we don’t have to rush,” you find yourself reassuring him in a calming voice. You can sense his desperation, the need to be held, nurtured, and cared for. They’re not unlike your own cravings. “To be honest… This with you… Feels much better than all of the empty sex I’ve had combined.” You utter a nervous laugh, hoping he gets what you mean and won’t judge you. “Let’s just.. Let it happen naturally. Hm?”

He nods his head slightly, his face nuzzling to the side so he can respond. “Yeah… Just,” he begins to speak in a quiet voice. “Just promise me something.”

You lean back slightly so you can look down at him, “What is it?”

One of his hands roams to your hip, his grip flexing as he pulls you closer. “Don’t go running back to your old life. Don’t leave me.”

You can’t help but melt, grasping his dear face in your hands at the heartbreaking sound of his familiar loneliness. It was an aching sadness you knew all too well. “Oh my sweet boy,” you say without hesitation. “I would never leave you…” Never is a strong word, but you’re pretty sure you actually mean it. After all, nobody has ever taken such good care of you in your entire life. Not your parents, not friends, certainly not boyfriends. There was a pull between you and this man that you felt certain couldn’t be severed.

“Besides,” you add with a sardonically pointed laugh. “You already said the first night you took me in, that you’d hunt me down if I tried to run away.”

Finally, he cheers up when he hears your acceptance of his overzealous behavior. The corners of his mouth ticking up in a smirk as he shifts backwards, making some space between you both. “Damn right I will,” he barks out with a scoff, the scared little boy retreating once more as his prideful counterpart steps forth.

You can’t help but crack up at how quickly he falls back into line with his typical arrogant behavior, but at least now you see it for what it truly is.

“Do you wanna try and get some sleep?” you ask as a small yawn escapes you. Suddenly the thought of finally getting to feel those arms holding you tightly all night, the safety and security of it, sounds really appealing. “We could get some cuddle time in.”

Homelander chuckles when you mention cuddling, his eyebrows rise as he relishes the idea. “I’m down for that, he says with a sly grin on his face. “As long as I get to be the big spoon.”

“Aww, c’mon!” you feign complaint as you drop down from his lap and lay down with your back towards him. “I wanted to be the big spoon!”

“Too bad, princess,” Homelander hums as he crawls up behind you. He drapes himself against you, pulling you closer until your back is pressed flush to his broad chest. You fit nicely against him, like two lost puzzle pieces that have finally come together to complete a full picture.

You make a pouty little sound as you wiggle your back into him, nestling your head into your pillow as you get comfortable. As you settle, he responds with a huff of contentment, his hand snaking around your waist and trapping you in place securely. You feel protected, shielded, from everything bad in his arms. Drifting off, you can’t help but muse, that even though he might not realize it, Homelander really is a hero. Your hero.

Holy shit, guys.. This was officially the fluffiest fluff from the land of fluffington. What the fuck did I just write? I think my Daemon fic has been so raunchy as of late, that I had to make up for it with all of this sweet as apple pie Homelander fluff. Oh well, you guys love it! :)

[y3nze1]

𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆, 𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐍 | c.I

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: I / II / III / IV / V / VI

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: Happy Readings!

"You know Loralie.. i should just.. try, don't i?" you pondered to yourself, pacing back and forth as she laid there unenthusiastically, for months you've been tuning on to a particular radio station, you would find yourself stopping everything to listen to the music being blasted on there.

not on because of the music, but to also the broadcaster, he has the persuading voice, like a salesman with the large inviting smile, grabbing your interest till it's fully caught.

you fiddle through the long cord. biting your nails as you dialed up. you stare back at Loralie who's been staring at your agitated figure for the last hour.

"Oh Y/n, just type it in will ya'? don't waste the clam in that slot, just go ahead. stop bein' such a piker!" she huffed, lighting the end of her cigarette as she rolled along the couch, watching your actions.

with a gulp, your hands on the number plate, rolling in the station's number. waiting as it rang.

As the telephone sound clicked, you were through. your eyes dadted towards loralie, who's eyes widened at your sudden glimpse.

"i.. im through" loralie smiled, excitedly sitting by your side as she tuned in along. the telephone status was sort of static, either way, still hearable.

"well scoot over, and start speakin!" she muttered at you, frantically nudging your arm.

"alrighttt-" you coughed a bit, before turning your attention to the telephone in your hands, waiting patiently to hear his voice. only seconds later, you heard a muffle noise across, as if it was being picked up, and it was that then you heard his enthusiastic voice, one that makes you flutter inside.

You scoot over to make room for Loralie as she eagerly nudges your arm. You brace yourself as you hear the broadcaster's voice come over the line

. There is a static sound to his telephone, and it sounds like he's trying to tune in to pick up on you.

He must be using an older receiver model that is a bit outdated but works well enough.

Still, you can make out his voice clearly enough and it is his recognizable charm and charisma that immediately has your attention.

"You have reached Alastor Altruist! From New Orleans, Louisiana, Welcome to my Broadcast!~ and who might be on the end?" his tone bright and giddy, making you melt for a moment, slightly stuttering as you spoke back to him.

"You can call me.." you turned to Loralie for a moment, before turning back to the telephone. "you can call me Daisy" you smiled at your words, you felt you're mouth growing wider with glee.

"Well it's a pleasure to meet you... Daisy." he gives you a charming grin as he speaks, his voice still just as enchanting. He's got you reeled in, like a fish biting on the hook. He seems genuinely interested in getting to know you and it's almost too easy. You feel drawn to him like a moth to the flame, you can't seem to help yourself as he sweetly speaks to you.

"Do you listen to my broadcasts often, Daisy?" he asks, his voice laced with smooth charm. You're not sure if it's all for the show, but you have an overwhelming feeling of attraction towards him. He makes you feel something you've never felt before so strongly towards a person. You feel like you could get lost in his warmth.

"well, you could say, quite often", you responded. "Really? That's wonderful to hear. I'm always grateful for listeners like you who appreciate my work." he says, his tone full of genuine appreciation as if you are a precious asset to him.

You blush slightly as a sense of euphoria washes over you. He's got his grip on you tight, and you already have this deep, irresistible attraction to this man.

"well either way, what song would you like to request for today?" you paused for a moment before speaking up again. "uhmm.. A Precious Little Thing Called Love, by Milt Shaw and His Detroiters"

"A good, simple choice!~ very classy. I'll be sure to relay the song for you, Daisy. Stay tuned~" his tone was still sweet and charismatic, he was still charming despite you giving him a simple choice. You still felt intoxicated from his presence, even though it was only through a phone call. It was as if he had a firm hold on your soul.

"This is Alastor Altruist, playing you. A Precious Little Thing Called Love, by Milt Shaw and His Detroiters" moments later, the call finished, your requested song playing on the radio, you smiled yo yourself as you tuned in, with Loralie right behind you, smirking at your sudden change of name.

"Y/n!.. are you serious dear? daisy. you are going to use daisy as a codename?! what kind of horsefeathers is that!" she let out a laugh, staring at your frame while you sat down beside her, tuning on the radio.

you didn't give a bother about her yapping, he smiled to yourself as the music blasted through the small speaker.

tapping your fingers to the beat, humming under your breath. Loralie's eyes widened at her realization. "y/n.. don't you be fibbin' on me but you seem to be, practically.. hmm, swayded.. per say?" she jumped up, wrapping her arms around you, her tone teasing. "i just think he's.. keen! yes.. keen" with that, she let out a chuckle at your response.

"Darlin, He's a radio broadcaster! ain't no way you'll be leavin' this joint if you get with him, find someone with the clams! you aren't really going to settle for less, are ya?" she paced back and forth.

huffing her cigarette, focused on you. "i just think he's ritzy.." you let out a nervous chuckle, your body laying onto the sofa. After a few minutes of silence. she sighed, throwing the old cigarette to the side before plopping down beside you as she scratched her forehead. "butt me."

you nodded at her request, grabbing a new batch of cigarettes, lighting the other end for her to easily access.

"I'm just saying.. would you rather stay in a jalopy rather than having the opportunity to hop in a swanky car! no. i don't think so." Loralie smirked, taking a huff on her cigarette. you stared down onto the hardwood floor, thinking to yourself before you muttered back.

"i don't think we should be to quick to judge.. Loralie, he's a pretty sweet man.." Loralie scoffed. "exactly. we shouldn't be quick to judge, who knows! he'd be a cannibal.. or some criminal doing god knows what activities." Loralie tone, sternly speaking up, she turned to the side to face you.

"look darlin', we've only got each other. and thank the stars we aren't stuck with just a sawbuck. we have a home and food in our stomachs everyday. so we gotta stick together darlin." her hands placed softly on your cheek as she spoke, smiling sweetly at you in which you return too.

As Loralie was out in town, You spent the rest of the day, tuning on your radio as always, prancing around the room as your ears perked uo to the swingy toons being played, you giggled to yourself, the skirt around your waist following you to your spins, flowing delicately as it fly up along with your speed and the wind.

for a moment you stopped, your eyes darted to the telephone.

you bit your bottom lip in nervousness as you approached it. you blinked for a few times, finding the right time to call, waiting for the music to finish. spending a few seconds as the melody died down. your fingers span the number plate. letting it dial. finally, it clicked. his voice as charming as always.

"You have reached me, Alastor Altruist! From New Orleans, Louisiana, Welcome dear called to the broadcast!~ good to know you're tuning in, and who might be on the end?" he tapped the surface of his desk. waiting for you to answer back. "hello! uh.. it's daisy.. again" you nervously spoke up. "Miss Daisy! coming in for another round for request, alright. how could i be of service with your request" you paused for a moment, thinking for a bit.

"Ah-.. uh.. yes, i'd request stardust by Hoagy Carmichael.. if that isn't taken already" you were still feeling slightly nervous as you spoke, almost forgetting your manners due to the overwhelming feeling of admiration towards him, even hearing his voice was enough to send a rush of adrenaline and euphoria through your veins. you couldn't seem to turn away from his charm as you leaned in to speak into the phone again. you asked, he chuckled back.

"why yes of course, stardust by Hoagy Carmichael will be on next. i expect that I'll get another song request, Miss Daisy? going three for three?" you softly chuckled at his antic, he found it amusing for a moment. patiently waiting for your voice to answer back. "of course, i have a lot more requests coming up." he smiled to himself.

The broadcaster gave you a sweet, reassuring chuckle as you spoke. You could feel his playful tone as he spoke back to you. "Well, this night is going to be a good one, I'm sure of it. I'll keep an eye out for that next song request, Miss Daisy.. i'll be waiting.." he softly called out. his tone softening, chuckling to the words you mumbled before dropping the call.

"well then, play me a song, radio man"

[cowboyjen68]

Hey Jen, thank you for all you do. I'm a young lesbian (going into my first year of university) and while I've met a few other lesbians in my life and retained a friendship (and I am deeply grateful for her), I worry that there are not many others out there like me. I've never had a girlfriend, and while I don't really feel the need to be in a relationship right now, I can't help but feel a little lonely. I'm worried that my strong opinions will make finding someone I click with even more difficult. Do you have any words of wisdom for a young woman worried there really aren't that many fish in the sea?

I didn't date until I was in my early 20's and i was out of college. I was terrified of being a lesbian and I knew boys grossed me out so I just waited.

In retrospect I was really not ready or that interested in dating while in college. I just felt that i didn't have the time or energy and literally no one really interested me enough to give up my focus on school, friends and coming out (not coming out. Yet everyone and thing (movies, TV, magazines, music etc) was telling me I HAD to date in order to be a "normal" teenager to early 20's women. It took some effort to just not date.

Most of us lesbians feel that our dating is already pretty small and then to have the knowledge (that straight people forget) that we are not attracted physically to all woman. AND even in the group of those we find physically attractive there are even few we share similar values and interests with.

This numbers game can really mess with our heads and panic our hearts. The key is to expand your world as you go. Don't be afraid to attend events or gatherings you are unsure about.

Follow what you are interested in. If you love cats volunteer at a shelter or rescue non profit. Attend their events, take the training. If you love reading lesbian history volunteer at the lesbians or lgbt+ archives at your school or at a place nearby. Start a simple book club or Cat Chat or Dog Discussion for lesbians using the meet up app or good old fashioned black and white fliers.

Attend women's festivals or music venues that feature women singers. Seek lesbians publications of zines on line and subscribe. If you attend a group or event and it is not for you take in that experience and move on.

The more you expand your world the more women you meet and in the meantime you are doing things you enjoy. AND at the end of they day you will have gained knowledge about what you like and dislike about dating, friendships and social situations.

[inkdrinkerworld]

hello hello can you please do a fic about autistic!reader who has auditory sensory issues, specifically where they get incredibly anxious when those around them are loud when it’s not very socially acceptable to be so? and so when reader, dealer!remus, and very high james and sirius go out to dinner (or anywhere in public really), james and sirius are very loud and reader is anxious about it and remus has to remind j and s to quiet down?

idk if that makes sense. its super specific but it’s a huge problem for me and I never usually say anything about it, but I feel like remus would <3 I love your autistic reader it makes me so happy, especially them with remus <333

Baby are we the same person???

“It’s very loud,” Remus heads you through gritted teeth as you stab at your chips.

It’s pub quiz night so the probability of the bar being overly loud and crowded had been high, but you hadn’t wanted to rain on James and Sirius’ high parade and joined them.

You’re regretting your decision the longer the quiz goes without them getting a si gel answer correct, yet shouting their wrong answers across the pub.

Remus can tell you’re a couple minutes from just bursting into either tears of frustration or just leaving altogether.

“James, you’re screaming mate,” Remus says as he steals a piece of your cod. “Sirius you’re not far backward either. The point of the game isn’t the shout your answers.”

You send him a grateful smile when he gets the boys to quiet down, but the ‘peace’ doesn’t last for much longer than three minutes when some bloke’s shoulder checks Sirius’ and he’s halfway out his seat screaming profanities.

“Siri, James, let’s go.” Remus hauls them both up and shoots you an apologetic look before closing up your box and leaving some bills on the table.

“We were having fun Remmy, why did you have to be a spoil sport?” James’ talking voice is a mix between a screeching owl and a whine that reaches hz you’re not attuned to.

“Because you’re heckling and you’re being raucous and it’s stressing y/n out,” it’s then that the boys look at you and find you look piqued- even though you hadn’t had anything to drink or smoke.

“I’m sorry, angel,” James at least has the gall to look apologetic and when Sirius turns your face to his, you swear he might cry just seeing how uncomfortable you look.

“Sorry dollface, forgot we were being so loud,” his voice is a stark difference now, whispers where he’d been screaming. “Can we go to the chippy Moons? Fancy a fried cod and mushy peas.”

As you all file in the car, you let James and Sirius share the little left of your own fish and chips and Remus kisses your temple as he drives off.

“Music?” He asks and you shake your head. He didn’t think so either.

“Can we drive with the windows down? It’s nice and chilly tonight.”

“Whatever you want, baby.”

[sevenop]

Billie Eilish x Fem!reader: Little dreams

A/n: Billie hadn't had time to carve pumpkin jack-o-lanterns last Halloween, making this unclosed gestalt her little dream. So you buy her a pumpkin out of the blue. You don't know how to play any musical instrument, but a ukulele is your humble dream. So Billie teaches you.

Just one comfortable July evening spent together.

The onyx-black Dodge, dear to her heart, native and irreplaceable, sways slightly from the trunk side, like a Venetian gondola on a small canal wave, and Eilish turned back as she was supposed to, not out of concern but out of interest. In the trunk now, in addition to the paper grocery bags, there is a pumpkin, jutting out its bright orange sides. Eilish's eyes widen in surprise, almost reflecting the real size of the fruit.

"Pumpkin?" - she stares at you, her hand simultaneously fumbling for the silver door handle to open it for you with a slight nudge. She looks as if you've stuffed an Irish goblin in her trunk.

"Pumpkin." - You innocently reply with a smile, taking your passenger seat to her left.The buckle of your belt snaps. - "I remember you saying a week ago that you really regretted not having time to carve a jack-o-lantern last Halloween."

"But it's July, girl!" - Eilish laughs ringingly, eyes shooting out sheaves of merry sparks. - "July!"

"So what? I don't need this stupid calendar to please my girlfriend."

The blue seas in front of you are warm and gentle, and no beach in California can compete. Eilish unbuckles her belt, and a soft palm, calloused only at the very tips of her fingers from the strings, lands on your knee. She uses it as a kind of thrust to pull herself practically flush to your lips. The pink petals of her lips fold into a budding smirk.

"Paparazzi, Bils," - you whisper, though inside you're already trembling with anticipation, as if you're both doing this for the first time. The self-assured curve of her lips is a can of gasoline spilling around you, your desire a burning match that you cover with the palm of your hand for save, gripping the wooden stick tightly with the fingers of your other hand.

"So what? I don't need someone else's stupid opinion to please my girlfriend." - she teasingly reworks your own phrase, dropping the words, the word expensive pearls across the marble floor. Defiantly and with a slight clatter. - "Relax and don't think about them, they're my responsibility."

"I know, it's just...," her palm touches your cheek, stroking, and you feel that slight roughness of her fingertips, contrasting interestingly with the overall softness of her alabaster skin, much more vividly than before. She seems about to play you, as if you were a musical instrument. - "I just don't want to let you down, or do anything wrong, or give you a problem-"

Hot lips interrupt you brazenly, and her hand slides from your cheek to your chin, touching with dominant pressure. You obediently open your mouth, and she immediately and treacherously seizes the opportunity. Her nimble tongue leaves a few strokes on your palate, hungrily pulling a few excited gasps out of you before she contentedly pulls away. The belt clicks back into position on her body and the engine rumbles with the turn of the key, as if to echo O'Connell's mood. You stare at her and swallow your words, mutely opening your mouth to close it again. You look like a cute fish.

"I appreciate that, I really do," Eilish touches the gear knob as if it were her royal scepter - honed and easy. - "But your disturbing idea that you're doing something wrong, I don't like it. It's a pure lie, and I'm willing to prove it with words and kisses like that for as long as it takes until you realize it."

"Thank you." - Your lips tremble in a grateful smile, and you place your hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly. Only for a couple seconds, but so eloquent. She has time to touch your hand in return before she puts her palm back on the steering wheel and begins to pull out of the huge, accumulated parking lot by the afternoon sun. And even though all her attention is now focused on the road, you see her glow. You slowly but surely come to a realization.

"What are we going to do with the pumpkin pulp?" - Eilish touches the white playback triangle on the screen in a familiar gesture, and another indie song's musical rhythm spreads through the cabin.

"A pumpkin pie," - you playfully cover your ears, because Eilish is screaming childishly loud and overwhelmingly happy, as if she's five again instead of twenty-two. That's why you love her.

×××

"You never told me about your little dream," Billie wiped her nose with the back of her hand, leaving a generous white smear of flour underneath. After all, as befits cooking, her nose always itches in a bad way especially when she has to roll out the dough. - "I think it's a little unfair."

You smile wistfully, rubbing the uniform puree through a sieve: Maggie had once shared her secret that it made the pumpkin pie filling incredibly tender. The image of the little black ukulele that stands in your bedroom near the nightstand (a slight negligence of Eilish, which only adds to the charm) comes to mind: many little people, showing beige outlines on the dark sapele surface, stand in rows, leaning one shoulder to the side, all of them connected by chains of even smaller squares to each other. On the smooth head of the fretboard proudly stand four metal pegs that gleam so seductively, reflecting both the morning and evening sun. The rolling pin behind you stops clattering, meeting the surface of the wooden board over and over again, rolling out the dough, and her arms close around your waist, entangling you like mythical vines. The ephemeral world of your thoughts immediately flutters into the air, soaked in the warm scent of pumpkin and cinnamon, and you twitch slightly, but immediately move closer to Eilish, keeping the sieve in your hands. A playful chuckle touches your ear.

"My little coward," - her lips touch your cheek before she happily prefers to snuggle her nose into your shoulder, inhaling the scent she loves and at the same time leaving imprints of flour on you as well. - "And yet what is your dream?"

"To be frank," - you tilt the strainer back into the sink to place your palms on top of hers. - "I've always wanted to learn to play a musical instrument."

"Piano? Guitar?" - Eilish purrs, feeling the warmth of your arms. Swaying moderately from side to side with you, it's as if she's lulling you into that feeling of comfort and security.

"Nah, you didn't guess, it's a ukulele." - you softly reply, and she immediately stops your impromptu "pendulum" by freezing in place. A moment, and you find yourself pressed against the counter when Eilish turns you around to face her and places her hands on either side of you.

"And you were silent for so long?!" - The childishly sincere surprise frozen in her eyes reminds you of the beautiful shells at the bottom of the blue waters, enchanting you. - "I can teach you!"

"Nonsense, I didn't want to distract you with such empty requests." - you giggle, as soon as her lips form an insult, pouting a little, and her palms invocatory located on your cheeks, moving you closer to her. Her eyebrows slid down the bridge of her nose in their seriousness.

"You are very important to me аnd music is not an empty request."

You see the pale remnants of flour under her nose, then you look again at her serious blue oceans and suddenly, even for yourself, you burst into laughter, appreciating this homely contrast. Eilish puffs loudly like a kettle, but seeing your satisfied look - immediately changes his mind to take offense, and only kisses, deliberately rubbing nose at you as often as possible. The leftover flour remains completely on you.

"I'll teach you after dinner, klutz. Deal?"

"Deal." - you throw your arms around her neck, so treacherously unwilling to pull away from her, and she gallantly wipes the remnants of flour from your face. Incredible royal mercy.

The timer on the stove dings, announcing the end of the warm-up. It seems you should continue making the pie after all.

×××

And though the pie was deliciously delicate, and the cooking together was marvelously seductive, what was happening to you now opened up some new horizons in the definition of such words as "captivating" and "matchless". Eilish hardly glares at you, waiting for you to finish with the last piece, and you deliberately mockingly bite the flour crust slowly, throwing glances at her in response. O'connell, because of the enthusiasm bubbling in her blood, ate her portion almost chewing, which makes watching her impatience even more fun. It seems that if you had put your hand under her T-shirt, you would have easily found the wick, because Eilish, from his own impatience, almost resembles a cartoon stick of dynamite. Finally, when the empty plate finds its place on the glass coffee table next to the wide white sofa, Eilish already flies up to the second floor with the speed of a bullet, stumbling on the steps in the semi-darkness, illuminated only by the cheerful face of a pumpkin carved by her. The harbingers of her return are the faint tinkling of strings and cursing.

And here you are, sitting in her arms on the floor, moving closer to the silly pumpkin face so that the picture before your eyes doesn't fade into the oblivion of darkness. Four strings catch the sparkling, warm glow of the candle, and you stare at your girlfriend's fingers as openly as you ever have before. It's getting kind of hot, and yes, you're ready to blame it on the poor pumpkin, in no case is your feeling of embarrassment from the obscenity of your own thoughts, no.

"We'll start with the easiest, I think you'll like it." - It's impossible to hold back a chuckle at her conspiratorial whisper in your ear. You can literally feel her satisfied smirk, you don't even need to turn around. Her sly intonation says it all.

"Won't you even tell me what song we're going to learn?" - you raise your eyebrows with interest, which flick upward like an askance birds.

"I want you to guess, my girl," Eilish touches your right palm gently to place it on the strings just above the resonating hole. The close bodily contact makes you shiver for some reason, as if this is new to you. Perhaps it's all the influence of the intimate semi-darkness and evening silence. "Do you know the fretboard mean yet?"

You nod confidently, recalling Finneas's long-ago explanation. Eilish smiles contentedly.

"I have a very capable apprentice. So, let's start with a rhythm, with me for now."

Eilish muffles the strings with her left hand, pressing them slightly against the fingerboard with her four fingers, her thumb resting lightly on the back of the fingerboard. And then she moves along the strings with you, leaving her palm on top of yours: twice down, twice up, once down, then up. You watch each movement mesmerized, and Billie only murmurs softly in your ear the desired rhythm, helping you memorize it. After a while, she removes her palm (which is somewhat saddening), honoring you and giving you autonomy. After a few successful attempts, she opens her fingers on the fingerboard, and a sound that is not quite slender, but definitely pleasant, spills into the room. You gasp in surprise.

"You're doing great," - you can feel her leaning closer against your, giving you a strong and support hug. Embarrassed heat spills over your entire body, growing especially hot in your heart. It feels insanely good. - "Now you and I need to learn proper finger placement and memorize a few simple chords."

And Billie shows you: she puts not the whole pad of her finger on the strings, but only the very tip, slightly bending the phalanges and gently pressing the nylon musical "threads". Having tried it, you now really understand why her fingertips are so different from the softness of her palm. It hurts a little, but it's not critical.

"Over time you'll develop a kind of 'calluses', or rather your skin will just ogoubet from rubbing against the strings and it'll be much more pleasant to play." - Billie explains softly, and you nod silently again. It's like you're a first-grader seeing a beautiful and good-natured teacher for the first time, listening with your mouth almost open. - "Now put your beautiful middle finger on the first string, third fretboard. That will be a C chord."

And you obediently put it down. Eilish runs her hand over the strings in rhythm, and the pleasant dissonance of the past sounds merges into one - slender and precise, soft. You repeat after her, with your left hand not letting go of the string, and you feel like a magician, still with your mouth ajar in surprise, like a child. Eilish notices and laughs loudly.

Next, you learn the next chords - cmaj7, F, G. Billie instructs so gently and tactfully, and you feel like a cube of sugar in warm berry tea. You don't want it to end. And even though your fingertips ache under the unfamiliar hardness of the strings, even though combining rhythm and chords transposition is hard at first, you're slowly but surely getting the hang of it. After an hour, the awkward movements of your fingers when changing chords become more confident and faster, and the melody is almost uninterrupted. You smile warmly at the realization of exactly what you are performing.

When you completely play the tune without mistakes, Eilish unlocks such cozy embrace and almost drops you on the floor, kissing you to the absolute. The pumpkin from such a trick jiggles gently, flickering with flames. A toothy grin, a triangular nose, and eyes, one of which resembles a pirate's patch - a little pumpkin pirate.

"I'm so proud of you!"

"I want to learn more from you, Eilish." - You whisper softly and a smile immediately spreads across your face. She's so close to you now, so beautiful...

"And I want to teach you more, Y/n." - blue eyes catch the glare from the candlelight for just a moment before she squints slyly, playfully mocking you. The solemn little vow between you is sealed with a leisurely kiss.

Then you play again and again until the wick sinks into the hot wax and the little candle goes out. Billie just purrs lovingly against your shoulder, rest assured, she is bursting with a disproportionate pride in you and you can literally feel it in the air. As the living room sinks into darkness, she lightly touches her lips to your fingertips - exactly where it hurts so much so far. Her blue eyes are so attentive, glistening in the July darkness, and her lips glide over your skin so slowly and smoothly, like a little boat.

She hums "8" to your playing, and you're only more convinced that playing the ukulele is truly your little dream.

[snapscube]

hey penny!! i hope you're doing good :] not sure if you're looking for any feedback right now for midnight snap so if this message is unwarranted then no hard feelings at all <3 maybe it's just me and tbh it's hard for me to tell bc it's probably subjective, but as someone who's particularly sensitive to sound it sometimes feels like your voice gets lost in certain game music in your videos. i've listened both on mobile and on desktop and i think it's worse on desktop, more comfortable on mobile (for some reason). like, i find myself straining to hear you and pretty often i need to pause to take breaks because i get easily overstimulated. it's definitely not sfx that get me, just background music you know??? i especially noticed it in your freddi fish video around the start of the second game, but it's in other videos too like when you played animal crossing. it isn't too bad though tbh, still overall a super cozy series and i'm grateful you're still doing it!! if everything stays the same, i'll still watch it. i'd really love to know what you think and if you can confirm if anyone else has said something like this, i wonder if there's any merit to what i'm saying cause i just wanna help ^^;

i appreciate the feedback! i'll admit i'm still definitely trying to nail down the sound mixing of Midnight Snap. there's a LOT that goes into it between recording environment, VST setups for my live microphone effects, post-processing effects when it makes it to the actual edit timeline, etc. also admittedly this is a genre of content i'm still relatively new to making (never dabbled in asmr or anything) and though it's easy to put out a super long video normally and have people say its good for sleeping as a fun side effect, actually trying to make something FROM THE GROUND UP for relaxation comes with a lot of consideration i'm still not quite specialized in yet haha, especially with how long the breaks have been up to now. none of this is meant to handwave ur issues btw im taking everything into account here, just wanted to explain why its somewhat in flux right now!

my approach for the last few episodes of the show has been to heavily compress the dynamics of the audio, which might contribute to what ur dealing with here. although at the end of the day there's not much i can do to anticipate literally every individual user's listening conditions cause there's gonna be sooo much variance there. i can definitely try to put more focus on maybe separating the heaviest frequences of the voice track vs the game track though. as it stands i tend to cut back on the high frequencies a lot in both cases cause i personally just find higher frequencies a lot more distracting and harsh and to me what ends up sounding soothing is a very smooth and rumbly kind of profile. but of course audio mixing is all about balance so i'll see how i can maybe dial that in a little more distinctly! hopefully as i continue to standardize what editing software i use for the show as well as how it's recorded i can do more to brush out any remaining issues in the sound design :) thanks again!