#i don’t smoke often but when i do (or when i did i suppose)

[misswynters]

Drunken

featuring. ekko x reader

happy turkey holidays 🦃

note. when reading this imagine the boom sound effect everything ekko says something unhinged. (lol)

Lights from flickering neon signs bathed the streets in hues of green and purple, casting eerie shadows along the broken walls and uneven pathways. Ekko sat perched on a ledge high above the chaos, his feet dangling lazily as if he didn’t care if he slipped and fell. He often came here to think, to escape. Tonight, though, his solitude was broken by the sound of approaching footsteps. It was yours.

“Hey,” you greeted, your voice softer than usual but edged with something he couldn’t place. You were wrapped in the jacket he’d given you, its fabric worn but warm against the chill of Zaun’s smog-filled night.

Ekko glanced over his shoulder, his face unreadable in the half-light. “What do you want?” His tone wasn’t harsh, but it wasn’t welcoming either.

You frowned, hesitating for a moment before stepping closer. “I just… I wanted to see you. You’ve been distant lately.”

“Yeah? Maybe I had a reason.” He swung his legs, his sneakers catching the dim light as he stared out at the cityscape.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you snapped, your patience fraying at the edges. “I’m just trying to figure out what’s wrong, Ekko. You’ve been shutting me out—”

“Maybe you’re the problem,” he interrupted sharply, turning to face you now. His eyes were hard, a rare thing for someone who usually carried so much warmth. “You don’t get it, do you? You’re always here, always around, like… like you think I owe you something.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. You stepped back, your breath hitching. “I’m clingy? That’s what you think of me?”

Ekko groaned, running a hand through his hair. “You confuse me, alright? You’re all over the place, acting like you care but then pulling back. I can’t—I don’t know what you want from me, and I don’t have the time to figure it out.”

Tears burned at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Instead, you shrugged off the jacket he’d given you and threw it at his back. “Fine. You don’t have to figure it out. Here’s your damn jacket.” Your voice cracked, betraying the pain you tried to hide, and you turned on your heel, storming off without another word.

Ekko called after you, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. His words had cut too deep, and you needed to get away.

The Last Drop was dimly lit, its familiar haze of smoke and alcohol making it feel both comforting and suffocating. You slumped onto a barstool, not caring about the stares you earned as you ordered the strongest drink they had. The bartender raised an eyebrow but obliged, sliding a glass toward you. The liquid burned as it went down, and that was exactly what you wanted.

By the third drink, the room felt like it was spinning, but you didn’t care. You leaned heavily on the counter, muttering to yourself about Ekko’s audacity. “Clingy? Really? I’m just supposed to—” Your drunken rant was cut short by a familiar voice.

“Y/N.” You turned, and there he was, standing near the doorway with your jacket in hand. He looked out of place here, his usual confidence tempered by something softer. Regret, maybe.

“What do you want?” you slurred, glaring at him as he approached.

Ekko didn’t answer right away. Instead, he draped the jacket over your shoulders, only for you to shrug it off. It fell to the floor, and you stared at it for a moment before looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes.

“You dropped this,” he said simply, picking it up again before sitting on the stool beside you.

“I didn’t drop it. I threw it at you. Big difference.” Your words were biting, but your voice wavered.

Ekko sighed, ordering a light drink and stirring the ice in the glass as he spoke. “I came to apologize, alright? I shouldn’t have said what I did back there.”

You scoffed, turning back to your drink. “Save it, Ekko. You said how you really felt. No need to sugarcoat it now.”

“You don’t get it,” he said, his tone growing more earnest. “I’ve been dealing with a lot—stress, responsibility, everything piling up. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. That was wrong.”

You didn’t respond, instead taking another sip of your drink. He waited, his patience steady even as you cut him off with sharp, drunken remarks every time he tried to explain himself. Still, he didn’t leave.

Finally, you turned to him, standing unsteadily and placing yourself between his legs. Your finger jabbed at his chest, your faces inches apart. “You think… you think you can just apologize and fix everything?” you asked, your voice slurred but your expression serious.

Ekko’s eyes softened as he looked at you, his hands instinctively resting on your arms to steady you. “I’m trying, I know I messed up.”

“You’re the one that’s confusing,” you muttered, your words barely coherent now. “One minute you’re pushing me away, the next you’re… you’re here, looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” he asked, his voice low.

“Like you care,” you whispered, your hand coming up to trace the edge of his jaw. Your finger brushed his scarf, twisting it absently as you spoke. “Do you care, Ekko?”

He caught your wrist gently before your fingers could brush his lips. “Stop,” he said softly, his tone a mix of firmness and concern. “You’re drunk.”

You blinked up at him, your eyes glassy. “So? I still mean it.”

He didn’t respond right away, instead standing and slipping an arm around your waist to keep you upright. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

You stumbled against him, your legs uncooperative. “You know…” you slurred, leaning heavily into his chest, “your arms are really nice. Strong. Muscular. You should carry me.”

Ekko raised an eyebrow, but before he could protest, you jumped into his arms with surprising enthusiasm. He caught you effortlessly, sighing as he adjusted his grip. “The drunken firefly,” he muttered, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Drunk but still lovable,” you corrected, resting your head against his shoulder as he carried you out of the bar. The night air hit your face, cool and refreshing after the stifling atmosphere inside.

Ekko’s steps were steady as he walked, his grip on you firm but gentle. “We’ll talk when you’re sober,” he said, his voice low and calm.

“Fine,” you mumbled, already half-asleep in his arms. “But you better not run away again.”

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice barely audible over the hum of the city. And for the first time that night, you believed him. Let’s just hope next time he will be more open and honest about how he is feeling with you.

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banner. @anitalenia

[myballsyourballs]

OKAY IVE BEEN IMAGINING A HAWKS X BAKUGOUS OLDER BROTHER READER?? okay but here me out bro, reader has been dating hawks for a while now, occasional family dinners at readers house with his parents, not brother, due to the fact that he’s training.

reader never brought up the fact that his younger brother goes to ua, and hawks never said anything about teaching 1a gym time-to-time, one day, reader goes to pick up katsuki early from school, and he realizes hawks is teaching, basically how everyone would react to one, finding out bakugou has a brother, and two he’s dating hawks??

(ps, hawks knew of readers last name, but never thought anything of it,)

big bro

keigo takami x male! older bakugou brother! reader

genre: fluff and slight crack oneshot (1,300ish words)

notes: i’m not a massive fan of how i wrote this (i don’t think it’s very good) but it’s been sitting in my drafts for months so here you go

synopsis: reader is katsuki's older brother who is dating hawks -- katsuki doesn't know reader is dating hawks, and hawks doesn't know katsuki is reader's brother. it stays that way until reader has to pick up katsuki from school early while hawks is teaching.

masterlist | make a request

Principal Nezu is shorter than you expect.

You expected him to be a man-sized rat, not a rat-sized man; though you suppose that isn’t an apt description either, given that he’s at least 2 feet tall and most rats aren’t 2 feet tall.

Regardless, he's still pretty intimidating when you run into him in the hall and he starts to ask you what you're doing.

"I'm looking for Bakugou Katsuki -- uh, my little brother. My parents wanted me to pick him up early since we're leaving today to go on a trip." Nezu seriously makes you nervous.

“Bakugou Katsuki is in Hero Training as of right now. You’ll be able to find him in the gym!” He smiles at you, teeth surprisingly white for a rodent. “Make sure to alert his teacher before you leave,” Nezu continues, an unnerving glint in his abyss-like eyes. You decide not to ask why he knows Katsuki’s timetable by heart.

“Sure. Thanks, Principal Nezu,” you smile, offering him a handshake kindly.

“Anytime, Bakugou-san.”

As you step into the gym, the first thing you notice is the smell of sweat. That, and the temperature. Despite the amount of heat emanating from the fire quirks of a select few and the body heat of everyone in the gym, it’s — surprisingly — rather cool. UA's unflinching ability to invest copious amounts of money into air conditioning was impressive. Your eyes trail across the sweeping ceilings and expensive equipment, whistling lowly. I should come here more often.

1-A looks to be split into pairs — sparring, maybe? — each student difficult to view clearly under the thin blanket of steam and smoke that surrounds them. Katsuki, however, is easy to spot among them. His explosions light up the room, the sound of the loud booms only rivalled by his rage-fuelled yelling. You watch, amused. Glad he’s… letting that out.

As much as you didn’t want to interrupt class (the idea of 20 different teenagers having their undivided attention on you was a terrifying thought), the teacher was nowhere in sight and you were running out of time. “Katsuki!” you call, waving at the angry red glare that lands on you. The boy, in response, rolls his eyes snidely and stays rooted on the spot.

You sigh. Little brothers are so goddamn annoying. “Let’s go, dude,” you urge, emphasising your words with a vague ‘hurry up’ gesture. He scowls, but obliges nonetheless, walking slowly over with his hands shoved into his pockets. Once he's in front of you, he stops.

“My teacher isn’t here. I can’t leave yet.”

“Isn’t it their job to, you know, teach? Where the fuck did they go?” You furrow your brows.

“Fuck if I know,” Katsuki responds, matching your curses with equal indifference. “He went with Deku to go and get something.”

“Izuku’s here?”

“Why wouldn’t he be, dumbass? He’s in my class.”

And that’s when you notice the rest of 1-A. 18 pairs of eyes stare at you in utter shock and confusion, burning with questions. Your body stills, awkward under their gazes.

“Is that… your brother?” a red-haired boy with sharp teeth asks, looking between you and Katsuki slowly.

“Yeah,” Katsuki replies nonchalantly.

You take in the other boy's appearance: the insane amount of gel in his weirdly-styled hair, pointed teeth and the fact that he was sparring with Katsuki. Close friend, bad hair?

“You must be Shitty Hair.” you say, prompting half of the class to erupt into giggles. Vaguely, you recall his name is Kirishima, but Katsuki says it so rarely that you barely even associate it with him. ‘Shitty Hair’ blushes at the attention, nodding bashfully with an awkward smile. He rubs the nape of his neck, glancing once again between Katsuki and you.

“I can see how you’re related,” he laughs uncertainly.

“I can see who got the good genes,” a pink-haired girl with horns calls, “clearly not Bakugou.”

“YOU WANNA SAY THAT AGA—”

The doors slam open. You first see Izuku, who pauses at the commotion, and behind him you see… your boyfriend? What the fuck?

“Keigo?”

“[Y/N]?”

“[Y/N]-nii?” Izuku adds.

“Nii?” someone whispers in confusion.

“Hey, Izuku,” you respond weakly.

Silence falls. You take a moment to appreciate Keigo in his hero costume before the dots connect and you turn to Katsuki accusingly.

“He’s your teacher!?”

“He’s your brother!?” Keigo counters.

You turn to your boyfriend. “I told you I have a brother. You know my last name. You’ve literally met my mother and she’s the carbon-copy of Katsuki. Keigo, what even?”

“Er, well, in hindsight, maybe you’re right— but... you’re so nice,” he says, disbelief evident in his wide eyes and confused brows. “And he’s so… not—”

“The fuck did you just say—!?”

“Young man, I will give you a detention if you swear at me again,” Keigo says sternly, schooling his face into something unnaturally serious and crossing his toned arms over his chest. You can see the humour dancing his eyes, prompting you to chuckle quietly.

Katsuki rolls his eyes. “Yes, Hawks-sensei,” he mutters, face contorted into a scowl. He angrily taps his shoe on the ground.

“Stop being a shit,” you chide, grabbing Katsuki by the shoulder roughly and rubbing your knuckles into his skull. The rest of 1-A watches on in absolute disbelief. (Except Izuku. He’s used to this.)

Katsuki groans exasperatedly, “You stop being a shit.”

“Hey!” Hawks gasps dramatically, “don’t call my boyfriend a shit!”

Silence.

You rub a hand over your temple in an attempt to ease your oncoming headache.

“YOUR FUCKING WHAT?!”

“Katsuki—”

The rest of 1-A is left in shock. (Including Izuku, this time). Some start yelling, some look like they’ve turned to stone, the usual. You’re too busy trying to hold back your feral little brother from attacking Keigo — you know he won’t actually, you’re just hoping Keigo knows that too.

“Wait, you’re gay?” A boy who you can recall as Kaminari splutters. Your face crinkles into confusion, nose scrunching like you’ve smelt a bad odour. You can see why Katsuki calls him Dunce Face.

“It runs in the family,” you say, with a pointed look to Katsuki.

His exhaustion must’ve caught up to him since he only offers a middle finger in response. Kaminari bursts into startled and slightly scared laughter.

A warm arm makes its way around your waist and it takes an embarrassing amount of effort for you to suppress a smile. You don’t even have to look at Keigo to know that he’s grinning.

Neither of you are big fans of PDA, but the urge to hug him right now is particularly strong; especially since he’s right there, but there’s also 20 kids right there which sucks and you have to go—

Right. You and Katsuki need to go. That was the point of this whole ordeal.

“Keigo,” you murmur, quiet enough for only him to hear. The rest of the class has ignored the two of you in favour of chatting amongst themselves or questioning Katsuki. Keigo hums, meeting your eyes. He smiles, his golden irises pooling with affection and his arm squeezing gently around your waist, seemingly in a trance. You chuckle, “I need to go.”

He startles. “Right! Right,” he says, clearing his throat. You pretend not to notice the faint tinge of red high on his cheekbones.

“Okay, 1-A. I’m gonna go sort this out quickly,” Keigo says to the class, his voice raised slightly in order to drown out the talking. “So please continue sparring — without quirks — until I’m back. I won’t be long.”

The class answers an affirmative, and then the two of you (plus Katsuki) are out the door. You turn to face Keigo, placing a quick peck on his lips. “I thought I just needed to tell you Katsuki was leaving and then you’d sort it?”

“That’s true… but I missed you,” Keigo sighs wearily, acting like he hadn’t seen you in years. (You spent the night with him literally yesterday.)

“Stop before I tear my fucking eyes out,” Katsuki interrupts. Keigo lifts his head to glare unhappily at him.

“Piss off, Katsuki,” you grumble, placing a slightly longer kiss on Keigo’s lips. You pull away at the realisation that you’re probably late, which means you’ll probably have to face the wrath of Mitsuki Bakugo. “I should— we should go. I’ve stayed way longer than I needed to.”

“Thank fuck,” Katsuki grumbles, occupying himself with his phone. Teenagers.

Keigo groans dejectedly but lets you go nonetheless. He watches you walk away, waving. “Bye, honeybear!”

“Don’t call me that!”

[vox-fantasma]

it’s 4 am and i am suffering vicious jet lag which apparently causes me to miss my favourite smoke spot

[hoseoksluna]

INFINITY | jjk

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x f. reader

genre: fluff

word count: 2.7k

summary: your birthdays have never been happy until jungkook became your boyfriend.

note: IT'S MY BIRTHDAYYYYYY. and i wrote this little light fic in just a day for the occasion. no smut, just pure fluff and cuteness. i want you all to go back and read this fic on your own bday and imagine you have such an amazing bf like jk:( enjoy! i love you guys. MWAH.

He was supposed to be here. 

Or at least that’s what your brain kept telling you throughout the longest workday of your life as your fingers tapped away on the keyboard and you used your sweet sing-song voice to talk to customers—something you do five, sometimes six days a week, although today was different. 

Today was your birthday. 

A pitifully miserable day that celebrates the moment you came into this world, only to realize, fifteen years later, that you don’t fit in—that it doesn’t have a place for you, where you belong and where you can be happy. A wretched day that your mom doesn’t want to celebrate because the preparations stress her out and because she thinks your family doesn’t really like you and she doesn’t want you to get sad, when they buy you gifts that are disappointing. 

As if that mattered. As if you didn’t love your family enough that the gifts aren’t what’s important about this day. 

This year shall be different, though. For the first time in your life you have a serious boyfriend that you’ve been with for a whole year now. A round but tall and muscular boyfriend. A Harley-Davidson driving, gold Marlboro-smoking boyfriend that you met a day after your birthday that should’ve been special but wasn’t. You spent it in tears because your mom made you feel guilty about wanting to celebrate it with your family, so you went out the following night with your girls to get drunk, go forget and met this man outside the bar that smoked alone and smiled at you a bit too often whenever you felt his gaze and turned around, your arm half-bent in the air, the cigarette smoke of your own swirling around your shivering form from the cold and the dull excitement that you caught the attention of someone so attractive and adorable at the same time. 

The way his eyes glinted in the yellow lights, starry and tender, as if they had never seen the ugly in this world—or perhaps they have, but they never accepted it. 

The way they rounded even more when you met them with your own, and the way his mouth parted because he seemingly couldn’t believe that you would notice him. 

Your friends knew something you did, innerly, as well—that this man was special and that he was yours. Your best friend, the mom of the friend group, stubbed her cigarette and leaned inside the waterfall of your hair and instructed you what to do. 

Stay here and have another cig. We’re going inside. 

You felt that it was the right thing to do, and so you smiled and you nodded. Your best friend patted your head, smirked to herself and left without any other word. 

You lit up another cigarette. 

And Jungkook… he was a moth, transfixed by the flame, gravitating towards you and sparking up a conversation about the happy birthday headband you were wearing. And you stayed there with him until your fingers were numb with the iciness of the night and until you ran out of cigarettes. 

But you didn’t go back to your friends all empty. 

Jungkook slid two Marlboros of his own into your pack, infiltrated hope into your heart by talking to you so gently and so purely—a hope in a better life and a better world and a better birthday, and infused your lungs with poetry by the way he looked at you. 

Like you were the prettiest girl he’d ever seen.

And a month later, after many dates, you had a taste of infinity on his lips. The infinity of the universe, of the world, of the love that had been brewing in you for him. The infinity of life that likes you, that had mercy on you and gave you someone like him. You had shared that with him on many occasions, but the first time he heard it, he sobbed into your hands. And just like you knew it then that he was yours, you couldn’t doubt it at that moment. 

He was engraved into your veins, written on the page that has your name within the Book of Life. 

And now, a year later, you ponder the hope that has not left the chambers of your heart since that fateful night as you enter your dark, deserted apartment that carries his scent but not his presence. 

You expected him to be here, waiting for you to come home after your afternoon shift. Your manager let you leave a half an hour early, an information you texted your boyfriend as soon as you received it, but now as you click on your messages with him, you perceive that he hasn’t even seen it. 

It hasn’t even been delivered. Only sent. 

Your heart cracks. The infinity thins out. You throw your brown leather purse onto the ground and try, with all your might, to keep your emotions at bay. The words of your mother flood your brain and your spine rounds at the heft of its innermore truth, your tiredness due to your long workday helping, breaking your back until you walk upon the debris of your own bones. 

So much for having hope. So much for believing that you could be loved by those closest to you. Why is this happening to you? Why do you have to be so eternally sad? Having the wholeness of the world against you as if you were nothing, as if you weren’t a human being deserving of love—

The rapid railroad of your thoughts is halted by the three-seconds long beeping of your passcode being accepted and when you turn around, the world you thought was against you turns to face you, ready to immerse you in its kindness. 

Jungkook enters. And it’s not a bouquet of flowers, whose petals graze against his sweaty temple. No, it’s a humongous pot of a white orchid that swallows all light of the room, only to spit it back down your throat when Jungkook crosses the distance and kisses you until your mind gets woozy, spinning around and around. 

A hard, alarming kiss that contains many, many questions. 

The light mends your heart, the softness of his lips, despite the harshness of the long peck, gluing all those broken parts together, and your lungs bloom with new flowers of poetry that he’s more than capable of taking care of in you. His free hand grips your waist, intensifying the questions in the kiss and when he pulls back, they thump in his big, round eyes that are never brown, but endlessly black. 

They thump so vivaciously that they plunge out of his mouth almost immediately. 

“Where were you? I waited for you outside of your work. I wanted to pick you up,” he says, panting, so out of breath as if he ran all the way here and broke a sweat. A bead of perspiration trickles down his other temple—and there, behind his ear, you notice a singular cigarette with a brown butt. 

Gold Marlboro. 

The sight is an electricity that drives life into your heart, making it beat as if it was never broken in the first place. 

Your lips are dry, your throat parched, and you think you need another one of his kisses. As a matter of fact, that’s all you want. His kisses, his sweat, his warm presence. 

Him. 

“My manager let me go home half an hour early,” you explain, gripping the hand that holds you, feeling guilty. Jungkook’s eyes pierce you, paying the utmost attention to you, coaxing your words out of you. You can vividly see that he needs them. “I texted you. I thought you’d be here.” 

Jungkook sighs, closing his eyes for a split second. A wave of relief washes over him and he purses his lips before he presses them not against your own, but against your cheek, his free hand migrating to the back of your head. And the warmth of his palm slaughters all of your bad thoughts, makes space for happy thoughts and happy emotions—and the act is so severely profound that you have to hold onto him, grip his waist like he gripped yours, and take the transformation as best as you can. 

“I was so scared,” he whispers onto your cheekbone, resting his face against yours, sinking his fingers into your hair. “If it weren’t for your coworker who told me that you left early, I would still be standing there.” He withdraws, looking down at you and pointing your face up at him. “My phone died. I didn’t get your message. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. I wanted to surprise you.” 

Your heart enlarges, escaping out of your throat and into the pot he’s still holding. You shake your head, thinking he doesn’t need to be sorry for anything, and pucker your lips to ask for another kiss. Jungkook nearly whimpers at the sight, leaning down and obliging, softening the kiss he’s so willing to give you, melting it into a hundred more kisses that make your tummy flutter. And there, there the hope, which he had suffused you with a year ago, comes to a full circle and you comprehend that as long as you have him, you’ll never spend your birthday in despair. 

And because of that, you deepen the kiss. 

The tears streaming down your cheeks feel so terribly faint owing to the overwhelmingness of your emotions. It is gladness that clutches your whole being, gratitude second, and your expanding love for him in third place. And all those emotions dissolve into his cheeks in the infinity of your kiss and it is when you press your body against his and wrap your arms around his neck that you realize that the orchid pot isn’t the only gift he has for you. Around the same wrist, belonging to his hand that holds the flower, are hung small gift bags that prevent you from fully dissipating into him—and that is the matter that severs the kiss, which holds the entire universe. 

And it’s not the contents of the gift bags that makes it collapse. 

It’s the red ring box that he fishes out of his pocket. 

Jungkook doesn’t get down on his knee. His hands tremble, very much like your heart, your blood system, your muscles, as he opens the box and allows you to see the gift for your very first special birthday. A diamond ring, held up by a gold lining shaped into an infinity sign. The infinity of his kiss, the infinity of your love for him, the little things you observed that made him cry—all made true in a singular ring that flits in his tattooed, trembling hand. The orchid gets placed on the nearby round table and the foreign emotions, which go beyond the ordinary happy emotions you’ve ever felt, suffocate you. So much that you begin to tremble just the same, sobbing as you turn your gaze away from the magnificent ring to the greater, blurry magnificence of his eyes just to catch the same, identical tears drenching his red, red cheeks. 

“Jungkook…” you mewl, sniffling, your constricting lungs not letting you say anything else, and you cup his hands like a flower. Perhaps to still their quivering, perhaps to just simply hold them—feel his warmth, feel the vibrancy of his tattoos—because, truth be told, you have no idea what’s happening.  

Jungkook calls you by your name in order to have your full attention and you anticipate finding in him the meaning of this all, stability and groundness. And he doesn’t hesitate. Hell, he doesn’t waste a second. 

“My little princess,” he starts but pauses momentarily, his bottom lip quivering as he holds his tears and you fall apart. At the pet name, at the unfolding of his emotions that bear nothing but raw beauty you’d readily die for.  “This is my promise to you that I am yours for all infinity. Nothing can break it, nothing can stop it, and that defines our life together. I want to spend it with you until we’re the last two people on this Earth. I know our love will keep us alive.” Tears spurt down onto his cheeks against his strong will and you wipe them away as you feel yourself swelling up with love, with something beyond joy, and with utmost, utmost adrenaline. “I love you with everything in me.” His voice breaks and you break in tandem. Jungkook envelops a buff arm around you, burying you into his chest, and for the last part of his speech, he draws close to your ear. “Happy birthday.” 

And he kisses that little seashell, kisses the planes of your cheeks until he finds your lips that he seizes, violently, with his until the infinity bursts at the seams, imbuing you with its eternal, yet different energy that promises that everything from now on shall be joyful and beautiful. His sob entangles with yours and, pulling away with a smack, he grins down at you. No piercings, just the flush of his cheeks and the love for you he radiates adorning him—and you love him. 

You love him so awfully devastatingly. 

And you tell him. You tell him as he takes your left second-last finger and slides the promise ring down that digit. And you tell him again when you meet his eyes, as if for the first time all over again and jump into his arms. The diamond reflects the light, stealing it, hiding it for you and him, the size of the ring fitting so perfectly that another set of tears gush through. 

And then he’s patting your bum, telling you to open your gifts and he kneels with you on the floor and goes through each bag he got you. A red lipstick, a perfume, a black silky dress with matching stilettos—all of which he wants you to wear on a Saturday night with him to celebrate. Then, all your favorite ‘you’ things that you love. Face masks, even lip masks, bath bombs, shower gels and body creams. Fluffy socks, pajamas, granny panties. A bottle of red wine and four packs of grape ice vape. 

Jungkook leaves you stunned. And you don’t have time to process all those wonderful things because suddenly you’re up on your feet and you’re led into a rhythm of a song he begins to hum, slow dancing with you in your living room. One hand firm on your waist, the other just as firm clasped around your hand, his eyes fixed on you, mouth in that everlasting pout. 

And you fade into him. Don’t think about your mother and the hurtful things she said. They cease to exist in the atmosphere of your shared life with him, more now than ever. You focus on the stability of his grip on you, the smoothness of his hand, the tightness you feel on your waist that grounds you, your feet that get on well with his in this dance and your hips that he loves to see moving. You focus on yourself; you focus on him. On the way he dressed up for you, ironed his black shirt and on the way he still smells so good, even though he broke a sweat. 

On the way he just committed his life to you. 

And then, he’s dressing you in the pajamas he bought you. Baggy and banana-patterned, beige and yellow colored, sitting you down on your couch and lifting your legs, one by one, to keep your feet warm with your matching socks. He’s taking your make-up off, brushing your teeth and smoothing down a face mask on your forehead, cheeks and chin, pecking you sweetly. And you’re straddling him, putting the same one on the planes of his face, and as you’re focusing, he meditates on something within his heart. 

And Jungkook shares it with you, all ruffled, sleepy and puffy. 

“I love you, my little princess. For all infinity.” 

You breathe it in, believing him. 

“I love you, Jungkookie. For all infinity.” 

You fall asleep like this—on his bare chest with your face mask still on, one that he peels off after the fifteen minute mark. And you dream about what your infinity with him looks like as your age no longer matters and stops here. 

Infinitely young, infinitely loved. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @jjk7k , @tkslovechild , @euphoricmyth , @cinmmongirl , @ririkookiemonster , @perfectiondazesworld , @https-mei , @bangtansonyeondanue , @jungkoock , @cinmmongirl , @hoseokkie-caeks , @kam9404 , @fr0ggieth1nk , @parkinglot-nights

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved

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[steddieas-shegoes]

i wanna make your heartbeat run like roller coasters

for @subeddieweek day one with the prompts manhandling and accidental subspace

rated e | 3,520 words | please check ao3 for tags

⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕

Eddie gets pushed against a lot of lockers.

It’s rarely accidental.

It’s always painful.

He doesn’t exactly have a lot of meat on his bones. Every hit leaves a bruise.

So when Steve fucking Harrington does his own dirty work for once, even though he graduated the way Eddie was supposed to, it’s just a bit embarrassing that it doesn’t hurt. It feels…kinda like he should be on his knees.

Which is really not something he wanted to think about when Steve’s got a hand on his shoulder, gripping hard enough to bruise, and something like fear in his eyes. Why is he scared?

“Did you sell weed to Robin?” he asked, teeth clenched.

Jesus fucking Christ. Steve’s got himself a band nerd girlfriend. How the hell did that happen?

“No, I sold to her friend. She waited by the treeline talking to herself the entire time.”

Eddie could hear his own voice shaking, but he wouldn’t back down. Black eyes were kinda metal weren’t they?

“Which friend?”

“Dude, I don’t even know. Someone else in band.”

The hand on his shoulder tightened and he barely bit back a whimper.

Steve’s eyes were very pretty this close. They were pretty from far away, too. Honestly, having Steve this close was probably rewiring something already broken in his brain. Having Steve’s hand on him like this was making his brain do somersaults trying to stay focused.

And then his hand was gone.

Eddie breathed in, breathed out.

“Sorry. I-” Steve shook his hands out and backed away. “Sorry.”

Eddie ignored whatever the fuck was happening in his stomach. It shouldn’t be happening so it isn’t, simple as that.

“Maybe you should ask your girlfriend if you’re so worried about her buying drugs.” Eddie should learn to shut his mouth at some point. “I only sell to the people who come to me first.���

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I remember.” Steve wiped his hand down his face. “Sorry again.”

Eddie looked him up and down, taking in the fact that he was genuinely apologizing. No one ever apologized for knocking him around, not even when it was on accident.

“You good?” He eventually asked.

“Yeah. Just, she’s been through a lot. I didn’t really want her to get pressured into buying something,” Steve sighed. “Has she come out of the band room yet? I’m supposed to bring her to work.”

“Uh, yeah man, everyone left an hour ago.”

Eddie watched Steve’s face fall as he checked his watch and must’ve realized the time.

“Shit. Okay. I must’ve lost track of time.”

Steve looked pitiful. Eddie’s seen dogs in alleys who looked less beaten down and neglected than Steve currently did.

“I can help you find her?” Eddie offered for some unknown reason.

Well, he knew the reason, but he was choosing to ignore it.

“She’s probably already at work. It’s my day off so I ended up getting distracted with something and didn’t realize it was so late,” Steve admitted, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. “Thanks, though.”

Wayne liked to tell Eddie he was too nice to undeserving people. Lord knows he gave his dad too many chances and got let down every time. He even tried to be friends with Tommy Hagan in middle school because he could sense something was going on with Tommy’s dad much like his own.

But Eddie liked to remind Wayne that Eddie is often considered undeserving and he took him in and gave him multiple chances regardless.

“You wanna smoke?” Eddie asked, despite knowing he barely has anything left after the long week of midterms for students. His busiest times of year were right before school breaks, midterms, finals, and graduation weekend. He usually stocked up, but with Rick being in prison again, he had to try to stretch what he had out.

“Uh…smoke what?”

“Weed.” Then it hit Eddie that maybe Steve was into harder stuff. But he hadn’t ever even bought from him in high school. Tommy had, Carol had, almost everyone at his parties had, but Steve never did. “I have regular old cigs too if you prefer.”

“Yeah, man, cool,” Steve sighed with relief.

“I got a spot behind the cafeteria if you wanna…”

“Sure, yep, let’s go,” Steve nodded, gesturing towards the double doors that led outside to the cafeteria and auditorium buildings.

As they walked, Eddie’s mind raced with thoughts of being alone with Steve, Steve’s arm brushing against his, Steve pushing him against the wall of the cafeteria, of Eddie dropping to his knees and unbuttoning Steve’s pants and-

“I’m really sorry about what happened back there.”

Steve’s voice shook him from his thoughts, but his dick didn’t quite get the memo. When did he even start getting hard?

“No worries, dude.” His face scrunched in disgust at calling Steve dude. What was next, the bro pat on the back? A fist bump? “Kinda jealous of how protective you are of your girlfriend.”

Okay, actually, what the fuck? Eddie needed to shut his fucking face, right the fuck now.

“She’s not my girlfriend, but uh, I don’t think you’re really her type either,” Steve gave him a look, one Eddie knew well and one he couldn’t quite believe he was seeing on Steve’s face right now.

“Right, right.” Eddie wouldn’t make him say it, especially if it was actually the look he thought it was, but maybe he could offer a little something in return. “Yeah, she’s not really my type either.”

Steve stopped just before they reached the hidden area behind the dumpster and picnic table for staff to smoke.

“Really?” Steve’s eyes were wide. “So you’re more into…someone like…me?”

Eddie was actually leaking into his goddamn boxers. Why was he getting turned on just talking to Steve?

“That would be one way of saying it,” Eddie said. Still easy enough to back out of it, at least. Could just say he likes women who wear polos and use more hairspray than Melvald’s has ever carried at any given time.

“Huh,” Steve continued walking to the picnic table, sitting on top of it and kicking some dirt off the bench by his legs for Eddie to sit. “So those rumors were true?”

“That depends on if I’m gonna make it back home to my very loving uncle if I say yes.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Obviously, I’m not gonna judge you about it when my best friend is-” He cut himself off and Eddie had to give him major credit. The Steve he used to know never would’ve cared if he outed someone, or at least never would have realized that was wrong. He coughed and then looked down at the bench. “You gonna sit?”

Eddie sat down on the bench, extremely close to Steve’s legs. Almost touching. Was that heat coming from his body or was Eddie just extremely warm?

“Did you actually wanna smoke or did you just wanna get out of the hall?” Steve asked after another minute of awkward silence.

“We can smoke.” Eddie reached into his pocket, hating how tight his jeans were in the front, and grabbed his lighter. His pack of cigarettes were usually stored in his van because he rarely smoked them, but luckily he’d brought them with him all week to sneak smokes between classes. He pulled one out and handed it to Steve.

He started to light his own when Steve leaned down, his face right next to Eddie’s, breath hot on his neck.

“You aren’t gonna light it for me?”

Eddie whimpered.

He would deny it a million times over if anyone asked. He almost had himself believing he imagined it.

But Steve laughed and backed away, pulling out his own lighter and giving Eddie a second to catch his breath.

What the fuck was that? Did Steve know he was making Eddie’s brain flatline?

He watched Steve take a long drag out of the corner of his eye, his mind shuffling between ‘what if he fucked me right here?’ and ‘get the hell away before your dick pops a hole in your jeans.’

Steve’s lips were so pink, and looked so soft, and just wet enough from licking his lips before taking the next drag, and Eddie was really going through it right now.

He’d gone through his Steve Harrington phase just like everyone else, thought it was over when he graduated. Had avoided the mall all summer when he heard he was working at Scoops so he didn’t have to see him in those tiny blue shorts. Had even gone so far as to avoid being around when the kids were being picked up from Hellfire because Dustin mentioned Steve was his ride.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Except for Eddie’s imagination was impressive, and his late night thoughts turned into very vivid scenes of Steve working him to the edge and making him beg, or pushing him against a locker and making him take his cock with barely any prep, or-

“Dude, anyone ever tell you you’re kinda space-y?” Steve’s voice once again lifted him from his thoughts, though he felt a bit hazy.

“Think I’m comin’ down with something,” Eddie squeaked out. All he was coming down with was a sickness deep in his chest: Harrington Heart-itis.

“Did you hit your head?” Steve sounded concerned now, setting his cigarette in the ashtray left on the table and moving so he had one leg on either side of Eddie. His fingers landed in Eddie’s hair, pulling his head closer and inspecting it for injury. “I didn’t think anything but your shoulders hit, but maybe-”

“No,” Eddie gulped. He should pull away. “Didn’t hit my head.”

Steve’s fingers tightened, not quite painfully, but enough of a bite to it that Eddie whimpered. Again.

Steve’s grip loosened, but his fingers stayed buried in his curls, and Eddie felt pressure guiding him to rest against Steve’s thigh.

“You eat today?” Steve asked, though his voice sounded kinda far away, like he was above the surface of the water and Eddie was sitting at the bottom of a pool looking up at the sun. “Eddie?”

“Hm?” Eddie blinked up at Steve. “I ate.”

“When?” Steve’s hand was cupping his cheek. “Lunch?”

“Mmm, no,” Eddie shook his head, blinked. “Breakfast? Cereal.”

Steve cursed under his breath.

He was so pretty. Had he been told how pretty he was? Surely when Nancy was with him, she told him.

Even if Robin liked women, she had to at least notice how pretty he was, right?

Steve’s sharp intake of breath somewhat centered Eddie.

“I’m gonna drive you home, okay?” Steve whispered, leaning down so his face was only inches away.

Eddie could kiss him. It would be the easiest thing in the world to lift his head the final two inches to make their lips meet.

“Eddie, eyes open,” Steve’s fingers tightened again, gaining Eddie’s full attention. “Should I call someone? Are you dynamic or something?”

Eddie’s brows furrowed. What did that even mean?

“Like the sugar thing?” Steve continued.

“Diabetic?” Eddie still felt a little hazy, but he was starting to come back to it with Steve’s hand migrating from his hair to his shoulder. “No, my sugar’s fine.”

“I’ve got some soda in my car. I can drive you home and then bring you to school in the morning. You probably shouldn’t drive like…this.”

It all came crashing down when Eddie realized how vulnerable he’d just been, how he’d actually lost track of time, not sure exactly how long he’d been sitting between Steve’s legs with his hands in his hair before he started coming back to earth. He stood up, maybe a bit too quickly, rocking a bit before finding his balance.

“Woah, take it easy.” Steve held his hands out, grasped his biceps to hold him steady. “You were pretty far out of it. Don’t rush it.”

How fucking embarrassing.

Eddie had only gone down that far one time with someone and they got freaked out when he was giggling and couldn’t walk on his own because his legs felt like jelly. But that had been on purpose. This was- Steve didn’t– Jesus Christ.

“I’m fine now.” Eddie was not fine. He knew what would happen if he left right now. Aftercare was a major part of this whether Steve was prepared for it or not. “Just, um, walk me to my van.”

Steve looked like a kicked puppy, but Eddie didn’t have the time to explain all of this to him.

Steve Harrington didn’t know how much of a freak Eddie was even if he did know he was gay. There’s no way Steve participated in any type of BDSM with the many girls he slept with in high school.

There was absolutely no fuckin’ way Nancy Wheeler let herself get tied to a bed and get fucked by Steve.

He shook his head at the thought.

“I’d feel a lot better if you let me drive you. I promise we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” Steve sighed. “I just don’t know if you should drive when you went down so hard.”

“You have no idea what even happened,” Eddie argued, pacing back and forth. “I can drive. I just need to walk it off.”

“You don’t walk off subspace.”

Eddie froze. Steve was standing right in front of him now, concern in his big, stupid, adorable eyes.

“How do you even know about subspace?” Eddie whispered.

“I slept with half the high school and two guys in Indy. I know what subspace is, Eds.”

Eddie must still be in space. Or maybe another galaxy.

“Sorry, did you just say you slept with two guys in Indy?” Has Steve seriously fucked more guys than Eddie has? Eddie, the resident gay man of Hawkins, has only been with one man in his entire life and Steve has apparently slept with two?

“Well, I wasn’t gonna sleep with two men in Hawkins!” Steve threw his hands up before putting them on his hips. “I hit up a gay bar and didn’t realize it doubled as a BDSM club until I was already in it and then a nice guy showed me the ropes. Literally. There were ropes involved.”

Eddie snorted. Steve was pretty and funny. Great. Just what he needed.

“I have a quick recovery, so I’ll be fine to drive home,” Eddie tried, though even he could hear his voice still shaking.

“No one is that quick,” Steve wrapped an arm around his shoulders, tugging him into a hug. “Has that ever happened before?”

“Not like that.”

“We should probably talk about it.”

The last thing Eddie wanted to do was talk about how someone playing with his hair and moving his head around while showing the bare minimum of care was enough to send him into subspace, but he had a feeling Steve wasn’t gonna give up easily.

“Fine. What should we talk about? How no one ever touches me gently so the moment someone did, I slipped? How I’ve been avoiding seeing you anywhere in public because I knew it would make my crush come back full force? Oh, I know!” Eddie laughed hysterically as he pulled away. “Let’s talk about how I still think about you in your stupid basketball shorts when I’m fucking myself on four fingers, which is never enough because I can never reach the spot I need to. Or how I once cut out your yearbook photo to keep for jerking off material because my mags weren’t enough. Could even talk about how earlier I wanted you to put your leg between mine so I could rub off on you. Or maybe the weather if you’d prefer that.”

Eddie was panting, could feel the heat on his face rising as he realized everything he’d just said, admitted, to Steve.

He’d never said any of that out loud. Shit, he’d barely said most of it in his own head.

Steve’s arms were pulling him in and Eddie let himself have it, let himself feel small for just a moment. If Steve wasn’t completely disgusted by what he said, then he would at least accept this offering of kindness for now.

They stayed like that for a while, long enough that Eddie started to wonder if he could just live here, right in Steve’s arms.

“It’s looking a little cloudy,” Steve said quietly, hands still rubbing Eddie’s back slowly.

“What?” Eddie still felt a little out of it, but that was entirely out of left field.

“You said we could talk about the weather.”

Eddie snorted. “Oh my God, you’re so-” Eddie looked up at Steve, who was smiling down at him. He felt off-kilter, being the object of that particular Steve look. “Stupid.”

It was fond, probably too fond for someone who needed to protect himself from whatever the hell was happening. He needed to shut this down.

“It’s been mentioned,” Steve’s eyes flickered down to Eddie’s lips, then back up to his eyes. “You good to head out?”

Eddie started to nod, but stopped.

This was his only chance. He wasn’t dumb enough to think he’d ever be alone with Steve again. If he was gonna kick start a spiral over feelings, he might as well go all out.

He stood at his full height, almost eye level with Steve, and leaned in.

The kiss was not even close to perfect. In fact, as far as kisses go, it was probably in the bottom three for Steve. Eddie chose not to think about how he screwed it all up.

But once the initial shock wore off, and Eddie put his teeth away, Steve’s hand cupped Eddie’s cheek and he licked past his lips.

Leave it to Steve to turn this around, make it something worth the risk.

Their lips moved in sync, both of them deepening the kiss without making it too wet, too filthy for a public space.

It was, dare he say, romantic.

Most kisses Eddie had managed to have were dirty and rough, hidden away in dark bars and alleyways, not exactly prime teen romance.

Of course Steve was good at this, of course he made Eddie melt against him, and of course Eddie was going to start writing hearts around Steve’s name in his notebook as if they were high school sweethearts.

When they pulled apart, it took him a minute to open his eyes. How stereotypical.

Steve was already looking at him, softer than he probably deserved.

“You’re pretty good at that,” Eddie breathed out.

“It’s been mentioned.” Steve’s lips turned up in a smirk before he pulled away completely. “Let’s go.”

They walked back through the school, stopping at Eddie’s locker to grab one of his textbooks as if he actually would use it. By now, he didn’t really need the textbooks to get his work done. And he was actually committed to getting it done this time around.

They were quiet as they continued out to the parking lot, only a few cars belonging to teachers left, maybe a few students stuck here for football or basketball practice. Steve’s car was towards the back, but Eddie’s was almost all the way in the grass field by the main road. It was less risky leaving it further away, less likely that anyone would slash the tires or key the side.

“You’re sure you can drive?” Steve asked as they stood outside his car.

“Yeah. Only five minutes to the trailer. It’ll be fine.” Eddie shrugged like it was nothing, but he was actually a little worried the kiss set him too off balance to focus on the road. Fuck the subspace, Steve’s lips were like discovering a new galaxy.

“Can I call you later? To check on you?” Steve seemed hesitant to ask.

“Uh, yeah? Do you…have my number?”

Steve shook his head, opening the door to his car and reaching into the glovebox to find a pen and an old receipt. As Eddie wrote down the number to the trailer, he thought about how much worse this would be tomorrow, how shitty it would be to have had this absolutely out of this world experience with the one person he never thought he could and then be left with scraps for the rest of his life.

“You uh, you don’t have to call, man. Don’t feel pressured. My uncle will be home so it’s not like I’ll be alone.”

Steve took the paper and pen back, folding the paper and putting it in his pocket and throwing the pen back into the car.

“I’m gonna call.” Steve moved a piece of Eddie’s hair from in front of his face. “You got a phone in your room?”

“No, but the one we have reaches to the bathroom?” Why the hell did he need one in his room?

“Good. Need you to be alone.”

“Steve, what the hell does that mean?”

“How else am I supposed to tell you what I wanna do to you?”

Well, fuck.

Day two: ao3 | tumblr

[ma1dita]

solipsism

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 5.1k

summary: (post-TLT) drink responsibly… trouble doesn’t; you punch luke in this lol (novelization spoilers? kinda canon-compliant)

The one where you finally pray to Hestia to keep your home safe, even if he's also trying to destroy it. Luke visits you four times during college, in a timeline opposite to yours (doctor x river song-coded) (lore expansion & explanation here) (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: i hurt myself with this one. anyways its canon (to me) that we’re roommates now !!!! more to come like i promised even during my birthday break ! scream at me in the comments and feel free to reblog :)

(post 3/6, edited/betad @hotchfiles )

—

solipsism (the idea that only one’s mind is sure to exist)

You didn’t mean to send a prayer out into the world so strong that it would will an apparition of an Olympian, but burning cookies seems to be your specialty. Arguably, they weren’t the good kind, just the ones you grab in the freezer aisle of Walmart, and still, somehow they set your fire alarm off. Opening a window and waving through the smoke— Hestia, goddess of the hearth and home was standing next to the rickety dining table you bought off Facebook marketplace. 

“Holy shit, you scared me!” 

There’s mirth in her eyes at your reaction, though for all you know it could be annoyance—it’s not often that an immortal could be badgered enough to reveal themselves for an accident like this one.

“Dionysus was right. You’re too much like him for your own good,” she grins, taking a seat at the table like she’s an old friend. There’s a warmth to her unlike anyone you’ve met before—fire crackling in her eyes and an aura of serenity swaddling the air that you’ve never felt before in your student accomodations.

“I’m sorry I just… with all due respect, what’s going on?”

You go to toss the hot tray of cookies in the trash bin, before hesitating and putting them on your nicest plate. A gentle shove slides them over the table to the goddess, and she takes a crunch out of one happily.

“You were praying,” she states, like its common knowledge, “so strongly, in fact, I thought I’d make a visit to one of my most loyal devotees. Though in this case, you’re the object of his devotion, yes?”

Your hands are clasped across your lap and a familiar feeling spreads through you, then she jerks her hand up and points, “There. You’re doing it again. Y’know, it’s about time you start reciprocating the effort. Hermes’ son prays for you with intention.” You were thinking about Luke before she appeared—and hope glimmered like a tiny open flame. It’s still there, in the slow beating of your heart.

“He’s waging war with the gods. I don’t think he prays to them anymore,” you reason. Luke's offerings to the hearth must have been extinguished by the wrath he’s rained on Camp Half-Blood by now. The perfect storm.

“Not when it comes to you. Mortals never fail to surprise me. But it seems you’re a special case, my sweet. He’s made a home of you.”

To love Luke feels like having to keep a secret and never being able to tell anyone, but Hestia reaches for your hands across the table and looks at you knowingly.

“When I gave up my seat on Olympus for your father it wasn’t a sign of weakness, even if I did it so that others could be happy. I think your soul is a lot like mine in that you’ve given up so much of what you want to protect others. In turn, he’s doing the best he can to protect you; I listen to him every day, sweet girl. You are not weak for loving him still. There are generations of strength in your bones.”

“What else am I supposed to do? I search for him in everyone I meet and I’m not sure I’ll ever find that type of love again.”

These are thoughts you’d never told anyone—not Annabeth, not your father, not even yourself and surely never aloud.

“I hope you never do,” the goddess says, and you know it too.

i. no winter lasts forever (a night out after a drive home from virginia)

Flick. Flick.

“Come on, Hestia. Not you too. Don’t fail me now,” you mumble. The frigid metal of your zippo lighter rubs against your thumbs as you cup it in your hands, shielding the tiny flame that fights the harsh winter wind. Trying to focus as you lean against the brick of the Inferno, you take a deep inhale of smoke to warm your bones. Healing was never supposed to be easy.

Breathe in.

It’s somewhat of a routine you’ve made since getting back from visiting Annie. You’re a regular at this pub now—not even acclimated to the ins and outs of your sleepy college town, and though you don’t know the name of the hall your classes are in, you do know there’s a barstool in the corner of the Inferno with your name on it. There’s something funny about using your father’s gift as a form of fake id, and you wonder if he knows how heavily you indulge in your vices. Five vodka redbulls down the hatch have your knees feeling weak under the alley light until a stranger looms over you like a shadow.

“Those things are gonna kill you one day.”

Breathe out.

“Gods willing,” you laugh, stumbling over your boots and Luke catches you like he was never meant to let you go in the first place. The leather of his jacket is musky and his hair is buzzed. 

Either you were wasted or uncaring of who he was (both), you toss him your car keys and climb into the passenger seat. It’s a silent ride to your apartment besides you giving him the directions and Luke wonders how bad he must have hurt you for you to lay out for a stranger and waste away like this. But he’s the farthest thing from a stranger, even in this error in time and you’re still the daughter of the god of wine so after the third time you try to put your key in the lock he helps you because he hopes you’ll let him in.

“Y’know Annie would get a kick out of your haircut. Come inside.”

You’ve always been able to see right through him.

He’s standing in the hallway with his hand around your waist and he’s already broken too many of the titan’s orders by being here, so he scoffs, “You’re not gonna remember this by morning.” But you leave the door open anyway, dragging him by the wrist and your hand still feels the same in his even after all this time. What more is there to resist when there’s not much left of him to lose? 

This is the last time, he reminds Kronos, and there are monstrous hands around his brain, but yours are still gently holding his heart. The little part of his soul that hasn’t been eaten away holds on for a bit longer, tethered to your being by the way your hands are tied.

“I can, if you want me to.” 

He looks ready for war, and he is— yet you have him following you around the tiny living room almost in a trace as your arms loop around his neck. Luke doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know if you’d want to see him sober, especially when his absence is still fresh for you.

“Baby you look different from the last time we met,” you slur, stepping onto his feet as he takes you for a spin around the coffee table, dancing in the quiet. He’s older than you’ve ever seen him, voice deeper and colder. This is not the boy that ran from you in the forest many months ago. This is a man who’s seen horrors you haven’t lived through yet. You can deduce that he’s the cause of them too.

“So do you. Though still as beautiful as I remember,” he whispers like he’ll get struck for saying it. Your eyes are unfocused as he inspects your face, still soft and young with hope. The titan grips his features now, almost burning through his sense of self—though it’s not tangible he wonders if you could see it.

“I see you all the time. I just… usually have to drink enough to make it feel real. I just miss you.”

He looks pained at your words, and for a moment you wonder if he even heard you. Luke pushes you towards your room, an aura of darkness spreading through him like fire but he relents, pushing past the flames. He’s on borrowed time now, but Luke would gladly waste those minutes tucking you into bed.

Lifting your arms up, he pulls an old shirt of his over your shoulders, and his eyes catch onto the fact that you’re still wearing the dragon scale necklace he made you. Luke digs through your medicine cabinet while you sloppily wash your face and his calloused hands rub serums and moisturizer into your cheeks like how you taught him once upon a time. These are the things he won’t forget. Kronos can take it all away, as long as he gets to keep you. You lean against his chest and shut your eyes, scared that if you open them again he won’t be there.

“You’re not supposed to be here, are you? Are you mine?”

“I’m always going to be yours,” he says with no hesitation, “Four years later, and there is still not one living thing worth losing you,” he says, lips chasing after your fingertips as you trace his jaw. Your eyes flutter in exhaustion, and Luke’s eyes survey your room and he finds traces of you that he’s missed as he rubs your back lovingly like he has all the time in the world.

Your hands cup his face, making him look at you, and he surrenders himself to you as you pull him into a kiss. He’s a ticking time bomb about to detonate in your arms. The warnings that Kronos is beating into his head is nothing compared to the pain of knowing he won’t be with you for much longer. And he kisses you like he could save you from his blaze by doing so, lips and tongue and shattered breath saying I’m here, and this is real. Maybe your worst vice is not being able to wean yourself off the taste of him.

“Tell me what I need to hear. Even if it’s not true…Even if you’re not real,” you say between gasps, and your position on his lap makes him wonder why he’d ever give the world up and burn it down when it’s sitting right here and staring at him with violet eyes.

“It’s always going to be you and me. I’ll love you until the end of my days and then some.”

You laugh in the way that drives him crazy—though he already is, for loving you still. Luke lost all sense of himself when he left camp four years ago. All that remains is you, pushing him so that his back hits the bedspread. He lets you consume what’s left of him, and he’s on fire.

You wake up the next morning with a jolt. It’s still winter, and you’re still alone but despite the chill, you feel warm.

ii. autumn years (with a familiar visitor who finally shows up on time)

Knock, knock.

There’s someone at the door, but your date isn’t supposed to be here for another 10 minutes.

“Babe, someone’s here for you!” your roommate Jo calls out, and you tell her it’s fine to let them in.

The pantyhose clings to the lotion on your thighs and you fix the bracelet on your wrist, stepping out from the bathroom hollering, “You’re early, Kit! Don’t tell me you’re skipping to the good part; I’m a lady i–”

“Who’s Kit?”

Luke’s standing in the doorway of your bedroom and his eyes flit to the reflection of your naked back peeking through the undone zipper of your dress. You look stunning, lips painted red and eyes smoky, but you’re also furious. Too bad he’s always thought you looked extra hot when you’re mad.

“None of your business. As you can see, I don’t exactly have the time for this, Castellan.”

He shrugs, closing the door behind him gently and with the raise of his brow, Luke is leering at you like a teenage boy. Respectfully, of course. The glint of celestial bronze against his hip reminds you who he’s become though.

“I’ll make the time if you say the words, Trouble.”

Sighing, you step forward, but then he does that thing again from the last time you saw him out on sea, twisting the crick in his neck like he has to resist your touch.

“You’re still funny. Some old habits die hard I guess,” you scoff, turning and lifting your hair out of the way so that he can zip you up. He opts to not touch you, sliding the dress closed until it fits against your body. You think you can feel his fingers ghost above your skin, and goosebumps rise where he leaves and his breath is warm on the back of your neck.

“Leave your weapons at the door. I run a tight ship, unlike you.” 

Gliding away from him while his hands are still in the air, you turn and sit at the edge of your bed, crossing your legs as you nod at him. Luke picks up the pair of heels next to where he sets the sword against the wall, and like it’s nothing out of the sort, he gets on his knees. You offer a foot to him while he speaks, “I could tell by the taser on your bedside table. You’ve killed monsters before, why a taser?”

There’s freckles on his tanned cheeks and he smells like the sun. You wonder what he’s done to come see you tonight.

“I’ve found out that not all monsters are mythical. When…are you?”

His eyes dart away from yours, securing the buckles on your ankles, and his touch sears through the mesh of your pantyhose.

“A few months ahead.”

There’s an eyelash on his nose, and your finger reaches out to touch it, but he flinches away. Face pulling into a frown, you spit, “You never slow down enough to let me catch up with you, huh?”

You can hear the microwave whirring in the kitchen, your roommate none the wiser of the sound of two hearts breaking. The both of you suddenly realize this is the first time you two have been alone (and the same age) since he left camp. There’s a silent question of if it will ever happen again as he gets up from the floor.

“So you’re seeing other people. Must’ve been easy, h—”

You punch him in the face before he finishes speaking, and all he can do is laugh. You would never let him off so easily.

“Fuck you. What, you think you can just hop in here and act like everything’s okay? What do you want, Castellan? For me to grovel at your feet and beg for you to fix what you broke?”

And you’re right, he supposes. This is the closest to peace that you’ll get in this life you’ve created without him. He won’t be able to take you on nice dinner dates like Kit can, or hold your hand without feeling like fate is going to smite him for existing. You scoff at the lack of his response.

“What happens next?”

Luke watches you chew on your lip, and even if he shouldn’t touch you in fear that you’ll will away his reason for defecting, by the gods does he want to.

“What do you mean?” he mutters. The cord of his necklace is tucked into your dress now that he looks closer.

“If I’m right,” you say (and it’s rare that you’re not), “each version of you that comes to see me knows less, and each time I see you I learn more. You were 23 last time. Why didn’t you see me at 22?” You know he won’t have an answer, but this is the only time you’ll be able to ask the real him. The one that’s yours, just a few steps ahead.

“There’s already been a lot that’s happened since I last saw you.”

“Are you going to hurt me?” you offer him, like he hasn’t already. He can feel the bruise blooming on his cheekbone and he grimaces with what he’s about to say.

“Never intentionally. I’ll try not to.”

It sounds stupid coming out of his mouth and you feel stupid with how empty you feel just watching him. He’s made a home of you, choosing moments in time to visit, but when he inevitably leaves, then what? Luke taught you how to be a home, forgetting you exist until it’s convenient and now there are things about yourself that you can’t unlearn yet don’t know what to do with.

Your roommate knocks on your door asking if you want a shot of vodka before your date starts, and Luke is already walking towards it since he’s overstayed his welcome. He raises his sword to open a portal but you shake your head.

“Go out the way you came,” you swallow, fiddling with the copper pendant around your neck, “and take the purple umbrella in the hall. It’s raining outside.”

When you walk into the kitchen moments later, the front door shuts gently and Jo’s sitting at the table with a mouthful of ramen noodles.

“Is he warming up the car? Your date’s hot as fuck, babe,” she grins, steam coating her glasses.

Knock, knock.

Your phone buzzes and there’s another knock at the door. Kit is 15 minutes late.

iii. auld lang syne (ringing in the new year with an old friend, or more)

Your apartment is filled with friends and acquaintances, but who the fuck cares anyway? There’s 10 minutes to midnight and you’re crossed out of your mind. Holding onto a half-empty bottle of prosecco, your heels clomp over to the window in the living room as you crawl onto the fire escape. 

Clack, clack.

The air is chilly as you hug yourself, and you hear someone step out onto the stairs behind you. 

“What are you doing out here alone?”

You sigh, not even turning to look at him, “What are you doing here, period?”

He takes the bottle of prosecco out of your hands, making you swivel your head to look at him as he takes a big gulp. He’s younger again, and it makes you laugh at how fucked up your luck must be to never be able to see him when you want. It’s always been on Luke’s terms.

“You’re too young to be drinking that,” you drawl, knees bumping against his when he takes a seat next to you. Long Island is quiet at night, and the lack of city lights is nice when you can see the stars so clearly. Music blares through your JBL speaker in the living room, and the sound of cheers gets louder when The Neighborhood starts playing.

“We used to do worse,” he laughs, but something in it sounds hollow. The breeze picks up and you shiver, taking the bottle back from him and swigging it.

“All these visits…you sure do know how to make a girl feel special. But you never come in the summer.” 

He clears his throat, before leaning back on his elbows, “ I haven’t gone a summer without you since we were 14.” This Luke doesn’t know what’s ahead of him yet, but you realize that he’s right. Even now, he keeps up the habit of pissing you off and raising hell on Camp Half-Blood every summer. You notice he’s not wearing his camp beads, and he notices you shiver again in the chill. 

Clack, clack.

Your heels rattle the metal of the fire escape as you readjust your position. He takes off his jacket to sling it around your shoulders and neither of you realize you’ve missed the countdown until fireworks burst in the sky above you. The red and blue reflect off the planes of his face, but what stands out to you is the orange of his shirt, and you comprehend now where he just came from.

“I had to see you. I didn’t get to say goodbye when I left,” he says, and you take another sip before handing him the bottle to finish off. The only new years’ kiss you’re getting is through the lips that hold the last remaining drops of prosecco. 

You nod, remembering it all too well as you both watch the fireworks in silence. He wasn’t able to watch them properly the last time he was with you, Annie, and Percy just a few hours prior.

iv. spring cleaning (only big days are ahead for the both of you) 

It’s quiet in your college apartment this morning. 

The moving boxes are half-packed and stacked against the wall of the entryway and the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the French press on your kitchen counter permeates the air. Perhaps the idea of caffeine is the last thing on your mind, hands twitching as they smooth over the black polyester of your graduation regalia. There’s a few hours still before the ceremony, but you’ve never liked being unprepared. Pollux is driving your dad down the Island because despite the war you’ll inevitably be fighting in once you cross the stage and get your degree, D specifically told Zeus that he’d wage another if he was made to miss your big day.

Parting your hair to fit under the ugly graduation cap, the tassel swings in front of your face as you grab a few bobby pins from the side table. A golden medallion of Castor’s smiling face almost whips into your cornea and you stifle a laugh. D said in his Iris message last night that all three of them would cheer so loud you’d be able to hear it from Elysium (and honestly, jokes aside—he probably has a way of making that happen). A staggered breath leaves your lungs, and you’re filled with anticipation, though you’re not sure what for. 

Time is a thief and you know that too well by now. After all, you’ve spent the past four years running from the truth of your heritage—dodging monsters between study sessions and grief welcoming you every time you come home. Four years later, and who are you trying to fool? While walking across that stage later you might as well take a bow. After all, your ex-boyfriend is the reason why there’s going to be a war of both blood and ichor, mortal and undying and still, you find yourself in the middle of it. You’ve found yourself fielding questions this last semester like dodging celestial bronze, the questions always a little too close to home and the answers you give are too entertaining to be considered the truth.

So, what are your future plans? 

Oh no big deal, just going home and dealing with generations-old family drama. If it drives me crazy enough I might enlist! 

Gods. 

How do you even articulate that these past few years were those future plans? That you didn’t expect to be alive this long, much less have the comfort of feeling secure enough to dream… It’s been years since you’ve had a good dream to work towards with a boy you once knew holding your hand through it all. But the expensive piece of paper you’ll be receiving later feels fake somehow. 

Who does that belong to? Surely not you…surely, someone who dreams without bearing the weight that comes with it. Someone who doesn’t have to look over their shoulder everytime they walk to work in the mornings, who can convince children that monsters aren’t real without having to lie. Psychology was a great field to learn from the mortal side of things—to know the reasons why brain chemistry affects us so deeply instead of just willing it away with the touch of your fingers. You like making people feel better. But who can ever do that for you?

A gust of wind sweeps through your room, the multicolored tassels hanging off your neck swaying from the force and you shut your eyes knowing he’s there again. Citrus and musk, and something that’s just him. He knocks over your hamper, cussing under his breath until his eyes follow your motionless figure in front of the mirror.

“Shit. I can explain, um… I thought you’d still be asleep,” Luke sputters, his converse falling into your laundry pile like quicksand. He bends over, stuffing your pajamas and sweatshirts back into the bin with fidgety hands as his eyes take a quick scan of your room. There are no pictures of you and him on the bedside table. For a moment, he wonders what that means but then his cheeks redden when he picks up a pair of your lacy underwear. He shoves that down too.

“Big day today. You know I can’t sleep when I know something is about to happen,” you smile wistfully, and you keep your eyes shut for longer, because like this, it’s almost like he’s actually there in real time. In a world where things went your way, this would be his apartment too, and his clothes would be scattered around your shared bedroom like how they used to back in cabin 12. You always used to put them on The Chair, as he would call it—but Luke’s known to make a mess of your life regardless of your efforts.

“When isn’t there? Something’s always going on when you’re around, Trouble.”

Click. Scattered memories flicker in your head like images through a view-finder, spinning through your vision as you hear the sound of his laughter, gently tapping away at your heart again. Click. In the ones you pre-selected, he’s draped in sunlight, honey eyes sweet and kind, and his kisses are perpetual instead of an indulgence. Click. He’s always wearing faded orange, worn-out, but most of all well-loved. Click.

You open your eyes and they meet his own in the mirror. Time stops for once, letting you catch your breath.

Right now, he looks just as you like to remember him, as you knew him four years ago. Multicolored camp beads are resting easily against his broad neck instead of weighing him down, and he’s wearing the red converse his dad gave him. He’s too young, and so in love with you that it blinds him, but even then…now, he knows the look on your face and it makes him ask, “It’s not my first time visiting you is it?”

“You’re usually more discreet, the door right behind me wouldn’t have been your first option. But you’ve never failed to surprise me before. Tell me about your day, Luke.”

A hesitant smile crosses his face as he sheathes Backbiter against his hip, adjusting under the weight like he’s not used to it yet, and then he speaks, “We ate strawberries in the fields today, straight off the vine, but I argued that the ones you conjure will always taste sweeter to me. You smushed one against my face and I carried you home. You?”

You nod, turning around to face a ghost of your past, and the both of you meet in the middle only a hairs distance away as you admire each other.

“I graduate today. Annabeth’s driving up with her boyfriend and the rest of my family is coming to celebrate.”

He doesn’t know of Percy yet, of Chris’ insanity, of your brother’s death, and the immense hurt he’s caused everyone. The smile that lights up his face makes you realize he thinks he's still a part of this—with you. And you miss him—even when he’s right here, fuck, you miss all the versions of him that have come to visit, even the ones you don’t know of yet. Tears brim your waterline as you take a deep breath; the last thing you want to do is scare him away.

“This was his promise to me. By showing me something I was sure of—and I always knew you’d graduate and make it big. Wanted to see it for myself, baby,” he grins, tangling his fingers with yours like your strings of fate, and though you know the answer to your next question you still take a chance, just in case.

“If I tell you what’s happened since…you. Would it be too late to change your mind?”

“Trouble, do you want me to? Kronos’ plan is already set in motion. I think…” he swallows, and your vision blurs without your permission as tears start to fall. Through the film over your violet eyes, Luke frowns and pulls your fingertips to his lips, kissing each one. He hasn’t done that in years.

“Did I make a mistake? Do I lose you, in the end?”

“Angelface…” you sniff, leaning your cheek against his hand, “You were so scared of losing me that you didn't even stop to think of what losing you would do to me. I lost you so long ago, Luke. And you’re not mine anymore. I don't think you have been in a long time.” In these heels, your forehead is closer to his lips so he kisses that too, hoping that somehow this time he can will away your pain instead of his. He doesn’t know what to do but hold you until you say something again.

“I’ll tell you something you need to hear. And no matter what you say or think, babe—it’s the truth. Even without all the glory in the world I would still be yours. I still am, even if I can’t bear it.”

Though he’s holding you, it somehow feels like the opposite—a purer version of him in your embrace while he holds the broken pieces of you together with his golden touch. Right now, you look into honey instead of gold. The both of you look at each other in the mirror melded together like kintsugi, something good still shining through the cracks of you two together like this.

The sound of keys jangling in the lock of the front door lifts you from his embrace, and with one look you both know its time for him to go; Luke’s brows furrow as he mutters, “I’m sorry. I’ll fix this, and we’ll be together. I promise.” You nod anyway, hoping at least one of you believe it.

“Go home, Luke. She…I still need you. I’m always gonna.”

He’s already got Backbiter in hand and one foot through time when he looks back at you. Your voice sounds a lot like how it does when you tell him you love him. Luke wonders how long it’s been since you did. Your bedroom door opens with a bang and some laughter.

“Hey troublemaker, you left the dryer on! All your clothes are gonna shrink,” Jo grins, peeking her head through the doorway of your room and she’s looking at you in your graduation gown standing there alone.

“Were you on the phone? Who were you talking to?”

It’s quiet in the apartment again. Your fingernails make indents in your palms, bunching up into fists before you let go. A sad smile crosses your face as you let the settling wind kiss your cheeks, before reality kicks in and everything settles back to how it was before. 

“Just someone I used to know.”

—

“And no one can ever figure out what you want, and you won’t tell them, and you realize the one person in the world who loves you isn’t the one you thought it would be, and you don’t trust him to love you in a way you would enjoy.” -Richard Siken

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?)

1/2 luke taglist: @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko@bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303  @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r@visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri

[megumimania]

SUMMERTIME — nanami kento

synopsis: it’s nanami’s year to host the annual summer barbecue— but will it go as well as he planned?

warnings: nanami kento x fem!reader, gojo is a lowley a dick in this one, brief mentions of jjk 1st and 2nd years, fluff, nanami not trying to kill gojo for 5 mins challenge go!

author’s notes: heyyy im back from the dead! honestly life has been so busy but im glad to be back for now, im just cleaning out the drafts!

“please dont—” nanami calls out but it’s too late. the sound of his porcelain vase shattering on the ground cuts him off.

at this point nanami knew that this would happen. in the days leading up to the annual summer barbecue, you’d heard your husband whisper, yell and mumble every expletive in the book.

you know he didn’t mean to curse so much, it was just the stress of planning everything getting to him. it was also the fact that he often tried to separate his work life and his home life. he’d refused to do overtime when you had dates planned and he often booked days off to work around your schedule.

the separation between his home and work life made his life less stressful, knowing that you were kept away safe from the evil world of curses and jujutsu made the harder days more bearable.

“sorry nanamin!” the pink haired teen called out, flashing one of his usual smiles that could probably let him get away with murder. nanami waved him off seemingly unfazed.

at first things were going smoothly.

drinks were flowing, the kids were either playing or swimming in the pool and his fellow co workers were chatting away on the patio. for a second nanami could breathe until the smell of acrid smoke wafted in the air.

he forgot he left gojo on patties and hot dogs duty.

“gojo did you just burn the hot dogs and patties?” nanami asked calmly, simultaneously going over the relaxation techniques you’d taught him in his head. nanami wasn’t quick to anger by any means but when gojo came into the equation, it was almost instinctual.

nanami couldn’t throttle gojo in front of his colleagues and students. what kind of impression would that make?

he figured that they would understand nonetheless, almost everybody here had thought about doing the same thing, it’s just that he’d be the first to actually do it.

“nanamin this is no way to talk to your elders!” gojo berated him, shaking his head profusely for dramatic purposes only.

“i thought you’d know better manners than that.” gojo replied, feigning disappointment.

in any other situation nanami would apologise for his supposed lack of respect but when these words were coming from the mouth of a 28 year old, over powered man child, his comment was like water off of a duck’s back.

“i don’t care, you better fix this,” nanami replied, his voice low and threatening.

he did not want to disrupt the lively atmosphere of the barbecue because of one idiot’s mistake. he slipped some money into his hand, hoping that a few gojo free minutes would lower his blood pressure.

he spotted you talking to shoko and utahime by the pool, looking gorgeous as ever in your blue sundress. you were throwing your head back in laughter as shoko made a funny joke.

god you were still beautiful as the first time he met you at a party that celebrated the merger between the two companies you worked at.

he remembers it as if it was clear as day, whilst everyone was networking and socialising with each other, you stood off to the side of the room like a wallflower and from the way you kept zoning out whilst several conversations were happening in your direction.

he knew he found the one in you.

the only person who’s social battery drained faster than his. nanami was and still is forever grateful for the slight buzz that the complimentary champagne had given him, as it gave him the liquid courage to talk to you.

and now five years, a wedding and a beautiful home later, nanami still looked at you with so much love and affection as if everyday was the first day he met you. he was extremely lucky to have you in his life.

“i’m sorry ladies, i need to borrow my wife for a second.” he said politely as shoko raised her hands in mock surrender, giving him a cheeky grin. by no means did he want to pull you out from the conversation you were having, he was happy that you jelled well with his colleagues.

“she’s all yours nanami, don’t worry about it.” she patted his back playfully as her and utahime walked off in an another direction with their drinks in tow.

he knows he’s being awfully clingy right now, pulling you away from what seemed like a good conversation but he just wanted a brief moment with you before he had to deal with everyone’s shenanigans again.

in the back he can see nobara and maki hustle everybody in an intense game of poker, shoko and utahime purposely accidentally blowing smoke into gakukanji’s face to piss him off or to probably send him into an early grave.

“would i be a terrible host if i kick everyone out right now, hm?” he pulled you into his chest, your presence having a calming effect on him.

nanami could die here in your arms. in an instant the sensory overload he was currently experiencing was immediately quietened by just being here with you.

you rested your hand on his chest, the blaring testament of nanami’s love for you sitting pretty on your ring finger. the ring cost a pretty penny that nanami was all the willing to spend, even going the extra mile to buy lab grown diamonds for you.

“i think they’d be more understanding if you fed them first,” you joked, looking over at the grill that was currently missing from the action. “speaking of…where is the food?”

by reading his facial expressions, it didn’t take much to deduce that a certain white haired and blue eyed sorcerer had a role to play in all of this.

it was common knowledge that gojo wasn’t a good cook by any means. that part was really solidified last year when half the staff was out sick because he decided to experiment with his food on one friendsgiving evening.

“c’mon babe, chill out have a drink or two. you’ve been so uptight all day.” you suggested, offering him a reprieve from his host duties. nanami couldn’t say no to a pretty face like yours, especially when you were looking at him like that.

he eventually gives in, grabbing a bottle of beer from the cooler. it’s not his favourite drink of choice but he figured that it would do for the time being. nanami relaxes under your touch, his heart rate and breathing becoming more slowed and even.

you forget how much work aged him, even though he says that it’s the most fulfilling job that he’s had. the wear and tear of being a sorcerer definitely added years onto him despite him only being 27. a vacation is definitely needed for the both of you, a long one preferably away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.

protests come from the partygoers who are eagerly awaiting the food. yuji and nobara proclaim that they’re gonna die without food that earns an eye roll from megumi, who has gotten accustomed to his friends dramatic tendencies.

gojo arrives on cue with a terribly awkward ijichi who profusely apologises for their lateness. nanami quickly gets up and helps put the bag of food away before telling ijichi to grab a drink and chill out by the patio. he feels bad that gojo made him work on his day off because lord knows after dealing with gojo 24/7, a break is definitely needed.

“you’re a lazy sack of shit.” nanami tells gojo as he begins to plate up the food for the kids, handing out plates to the kids as they come. gojo plays dumb, as if he wants to ruffle nanami’s feathers even more.

maybe it was a rich kid or only child thing hell, maybe it was a mix of both but as much as gojo claimed his childhood wasn’t like one of those “super rich, super spoiled kids”, it did show in his mannerisms and body language. for example his attitude towards the mundane like doing the dishes or laundry. someone was always doing something for him.

“what do you mean?” he asks, feigning ignorance. nanami wasn’t going to give him the reaction he wanted, choosing to be blunt as hell. someone had to bring him back to reality one way or another and unfortunately the task befell on him.

“you made ijichi come in on his day off, just to drop off some food.” gojo groans in annoyance. trust nanami to turn everything into a teaching lesson. it wasn’t his fault the food was heavy and in his eyes, this wasn’t work, this was merely ijichi helping him run an errand as a good friend does.

“if he didn’t want to go with me, he would’ve said something, right ijichi?” he calls out to the younger man, who stills at the sound of his name being called. he meekly nods, not wanting to be dragged into this mini argument between them both.

“still doesn’t change the fact that you’re still an ass.” nanami still relented much to gojo’s dismay. his expression changing once you came over, the hard lines on his face softening as he spoke to you.

gojo thought it was adorable as hell that nanami was a complete softie for his wife, a complete contrast from the stoic exterior he displayed on the field. he knew that deep down nanami had a big heart—it was evident in the way he always looked out for the students and the other sorcerers.

you placed a kiss on his cheek, poking fun at how red he turned from the moment before walking off, food in hand. gojo leaned in closer to make a cheeky remark but was immediately silenced with a burger being shoved into his mouth.

“shut it.” nanami muttered before going over to join you on the loungers. gojo was stunned, he was too busy trying to work his way through the layers of bread and meat to process what just happened.

nanami was too busy enjoying his time with you to care about what gojo’s next plan of action was. however he mentally drew up a scoreboard that brought a sense of satisfaction for him.

this week:

nanami 1

gojo 0

[moonstruckme]

hiii i would love a tasm! peter where reader has just moved out of home for the first time and is feeling a bit lonely! peter comes over and keeps them company, maybe they make dinner or have a movie night :)

Thanks for requesting lovely!

cw: reader deals with loneliness

tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 753 words

You open your door to the smell of smoke. Instantly you beeline towards the kitchen, worried you’d left the stove on or your new apartment came with some faulty wiring, but you find yourself blocked at the threshold. A tall figure steps into your way. 

“Please don’t—” 

You gasp and jump at the same time, up and back, and Peter has to grab your arms to keep you from tripping over the couch. 

“Freak out,” he finishes. He grins as he rights you, eyes light with amusement. “Sorry, there were probably better ways to do that.” 

“Fuck,” you sigh, bending and setting your hands on your knees. “Peter, what the hell? How did you get in here?” 

“You left your window unlocked.” Peter lets you go, holding his hands aloft for a second to make sure you don’t topple before stepping back. “Super not safe, by the way. I’m not the only person in New York who knows how to climb a fire escape.” 

You shake your head, baffled, before remembering your original concern. “Are you burning something?” 

He winces. “Not intentionally.” 

You raise your eyebrows and move past him, into your kitchen. Peter follows behind. 

“It’s out,” he assures you. You spot a smoldering dish in the sink, the charred remains of what you suppose was once food submerged in cold water. At least the smoke seems to be thin, clinging to the ceiling and drifting slowly out your open kitchen window. “I thought I could be fancy and make something, but, uh, reinforcements have been called.” 

You turn. “Reinforcements?” 

Peter grins sheepishly. “Pizza.” 

A little laugh sputters out of you, and his grin softens around the edges. 

“Can I get a hug?” he asks. 

You step forward willingly, the remainders of the day’s exhaustion seeping out of you as Peter wraps his arms tightly around your shoulders. You squeeze his middle in return, resting your cheek on his chest and wishing stupidly that you could fall asleep just like this. 

“What’re you doing here?” you ask. 

“What do you mean?” Peter’s tone is teasing, but it’s still a bit gentler than usual, mushy fond. “Where else would I be? You thought you could move to Staten Island and get away from me?” 

“It’s kind of far,” you admit. 

“You’re delusional. You don’t get to have an apartment all by yourself, you’re stuck with me and my mooching forever. This is our new apartment.” 

“Really?” you ask, though the words have happiness and affection sprouting to life in your chest. When you’d moved here on your own, you’d figured it would seem empty without your family but you hadn’t known how much you would feel it. You like the freedom, having control of your own schedule and how you decorate and which things go in the dishwasher, but you miss having people around. It’s been so easy to fall into a routine characterized by solitude, with nothing but work to make you leave the apartment and no one to keep you company when you’re home. “You gonna pay rent?” 

Peter squishes his cheek into the top of your head. Unbeknownst to you, he’s picked up on all of this. You’ve been calling him more since you’d moved in here, late at night and in the middle of the day. He’s gotten the sense you just want to talk to someone. He’s always happy to be that someone, but sometimes the phone doesn’t cut it. The trip from Queens to Staten Island isn’t a short one, but he’s going to be making it more often. He’s missed seeing you, your sweet face and the way your eyes crackle when you look at him. 

He pulls back, and they’re doing it now. You’re smiling at Peter like he’s the best thing you’ve seen all week, which is very flattering, but it seems like a low bar. 

“I’m thinking I’ll pay thirty percent of utilities,” he says. “Sound fair?” 

“Totally fair,” you agree, rolling your eyes. 

He grins. “Perfect. You’re getting a great deal, here, sweetheart. I’m already providing pizza and a movie.” 

Your eyebrows raise. “A movie?” 

Peter goes to your couch, whipping up the DVD case. “Yup. Blu-ray.” 

You’re smiling so big he can see all your teeth, but you shake your head. “Oh, Peter.” 

“What?” 

“I just moved in here. Why would you think I had a DVD player?” 

Peter’s head rolls back, an odd breath leaving him that’s half sigh, half laugh. “I guess that’s another thing I’m getting you, huh?”

[itsjunear]

Shadows and Whispers

Note: Hello loves! I'll try to be more active and post more often, maybe once a week (this is my proof that I'm trying 😀). It's really been a long week for me, but I truly appreciate and I'm so happy for the support the previous post received. I'm very grateful for the likes, reblogs, and comments 💙💙💙 I'm not sure if I should make a second part of that one, but in the meantime, here's this. I hope you enjoy it, and sorry if it's a mess! Again, remember that English is not my first language, but if there are any mistakes, don't hesitate to let me know! I’m leaving the song I wrote this with, the slow version sounds really good :)

P.S.: I’m not really sure if this would work in ACOTAR, but I don’t know, I just liked the idea.

Words: +1k

Warnings: none, slight mention of tension

Summary: Reader and Azriel are sent on an undercover mission where they must pretend to be a couple. Reader has unresolved feelings, and the closeness with the shadowsinger leaves her confused.

The Mother definitely had a twisted sense of humor.

I was certain that in this life, I was paying for each and every bad thing I had done in my previous ones. If not, what would be the point of all this?

I had to suppress the complaint lodged in my throat ever since I had left the meeting with Rhys and he had communicated his plans for the Autumn Court.

Why? Why did these things always happen to me?

I could have gone with Cassian, Mor, or even Amren. I wouldn’t have had any issue pretending to be the lover of one of them. But of course, I had to go and pretend with Azriel.

Rhys had received a formal invitation to a ball in the Autumn Court, but decided to send us instead to investigate the political situation surrounding that entire red-haired family and how the stir was being perceived by the court’s nobles. Evidently, we were supposed to look as distracted as possible to catch any murmurs here and there, and the simplest way to do that was by pretending we were simply there to enjoy the evening as a couple in love.

Fantastic, I thought.

"I try to respect your privacy and not intrude on your thoughts" I heard Rhys’s voice in my head "but the way you’re shouting them, I could hear them even from the scraps of the Spring Court."

I grimaced but didn’t respond, letting the anger fill my mind so that he could feel it.

"Why are you so… irritated?" I heard him ask with genuine curiosity, and I sighed.

Rhys could dig just a little and find the reason, but he would never dare. Not without my permission.

"What do you care" I barked mentally, sulking.

I’d apologize later for speaking to my High Lord like that, but right now, I could feel the smoke coming out of my ears, and I guessed he could too because a laugh echoed in my mind before it simply vanished.

"Idiot" was the last thing I thought before raising my mental walls and reinforcing them with everything I had.

By the Cauldron, what was the problem? Well, for starters, I wasn’t in love with Cassian or Mor.

Hell, I had even suggested going with Amren to avoid going through this. Going undercover with Cassian was impossible—Nesta’s scent was all over him, and it wasn’t a secret that he had a mate. Mor was in the Winter Court visiting Viviane, and Amren… well, she was busy with Varian.

So that only left the shadowsinger and me free. Plus, neither of us was involved with anyone publicly, so we were the perfect candidates.

This time I didn’t suppress the groan of exasperation as I headed to my own room in the House of the River. I missed the company of the House of Wind, but now that Cassian and Nesta were there, it was impossible for me to stay—for the sake of my mental health, I fled that place. So I sighed and nearly cried when I reached my bed, bracing myself and trying to find the strength to endure what would happen in a few days.

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

Two nights had passed. Two damned nights sleeping like shit, practicing a mask of indifference and composure that I clearly didn’t feel.

I had also been more sensitive than usual, so I tried to avoid everyone, including Azriel. However, I saw Cassian every morning at training, and although I felt him casting strange glances at me, anticipating my mood, he didn’t ask about it. For that, I was grateful.

In a few hours, Azriel and I would be on our way to the Autumn Court, and I was just trying to control my breathing to avoid panicking. Even now, my hands were shaking so much I couldn’t fasten the endless buttons on the back of the pretty midnight blue dress, adorned with some crystals at the top and quite fitted from the waist down. Courtesy of Rhys.

A knock on the door distracted me from the mission, and holding the top of the dress to my chest, I opened it to come face to face with the man I had been avoiding with all my might.

I had to restrain myself from shrinking away upon seeing him in all his glory—not dressed in Illyrian leathers, but in a formal suit the same color as my dress, fitted in all the right places that made him look out of this world. If you added the large wings behind his back, the stoic hazel gaze, and the tendrils of shadows that surrounded him, giving him a mysterious and irresistible air… My breath faltered a bit.

He scanned me from head to toe as well, and the shiver that ran through me was completely involuntary. His gaze burned, but I did nothing to break the silence in which we were immersed.

"You look… beautiful" he finally said, hesitating a bit.

I swallowed hard and looked away, unsure of how to act. I had never been shy about receiving compliments, but when they came from him, they managed to destabilize me.

"Thanks" I whispered "You look great too."

Azriel nodded, and I saw his eyes drift to my chest, right where my hands were holding the dress.

"I need help with the buttons" I said in a tired tone.

He nodded again and entered my room, closing the door slowly. His shadows roamed freely, and I felt one of them caress my braided hair, making me smile.

"Sorry" Azriel apologized as he gestured for me to turn around.

I shook my head.

"I like them" I replied with a smile that died the moment I felt his fingers touch the exposed skin of my back.

"And they like you" he answered in his usual calm tone.

I didn’t respond, fearing my voice would tremble, and I focused on avoiding my skin from tingling wherever his touched. I even resorted to thinking about the painful blows to the stomach that Cassian gave during training when Azriel’s hands brushed dangerously low on my back.

I knew he also noticed the tension by the way his wings were tucked, but he didn’t say anything. Finally, I released the breath I had been holding once he finished and he removed his hands, though a strange sense of loss invaded me. Nevertheless, I ignored it.

A moment later, I turned around and faced him, tilting my head back to meet his eyes now that we were so close.

"Rhys told me you had certain… reservations about this" he broke the silence, looking at me with a calm expression.

Of course, he had told him.

I almost scoffed.

I opened my mouth to respond, but he interrupted me.

"We won’t do anything you haven’t consented to or that makes you uncomfortable"

I frowned.

"Of course I know that, Az. It’s just that I doubt this will work" I responded, smoothing out my dress a little.

It wasn’t entirely a lie. Though that wasn’t the main reason. It all boiled down to the fact that doing this with him made me nervous.

"It will" he reassured me. "Rhys and I have evaluated all the scenarios. We are the most credible for this plan. Just trust me"

I nodded, though I couldn’t shake the slight anxiety of having him so close.

The shadow from before wrapped around my arm, making me smile again. Even though the touch was cold, it didn’t feel strange, so I didn’t fear playing with it with one of my fingers, not realizing I was practically brushing Azriel’s wing membrane until I noticed his shiver and the way his breath escaped him. I quickly pulled my hand away and looked at him only to find him with his eyes shut and the rest of his shadows slightly agitated.

"I’m sorry, Az" I apologized. "I’m so sorry"

I knew how reserved the Illyrians were about their wings and how they shouldn’t be touched, so his silence only increased the unease brewing inside me.

"It’s fine" he replied slowly after a moment. "It’s nothing" but I could see him swallowing hard.

I bit the inside of my cheek but said nothing more.

"We should go now" he spoke after a moment.

I nodded and took one of his hands, preparing to pretend I was in love with him, according to that stupid plan. When in reality, I would stop pretending I wasn't, for a moment.

That was what terrified me—letting my feelings out and not being able to hide them again after tonight.

But there was no turning back now.

"Ready?"

No.

"Yes" I responded with the steadiest tone I could muster.

He gave me a deep look before I felt the shadows envelop us, and soon the room lit up, leaving us at the entrance of the grand hall of the Autumn Court.

Then, I let go of one of his hands and gently brought it to his cheek, trying to convey my intentions. He held my gaze for a second before bending obediently, giving me the opportunity to leave a chaste kiss on his lips.

The sensations exploded inside me, but I held back. This was a mission, I reminded myself. So why did his hand immediately curve around my waist?

This is just a mission, I repeated.

I pulled away a moment later, smiling softly at him. Before we both straightened up.

I supposed we had made it quite clear that we were together by kissing in front of all these people. I made sure to do it at the entrance so everyone would see, and I guessed Az understood too by the slight squeeze he gave my hand.

I looked at him one last time, letting a bit of my love for him escape. And then I turned towards the crowd, with a bright smile.

All right, the game had begun.

List of tags: @favsrachz @kennedy-brooke @rafeecameronsbitch @cleverzonkwombatsludge @latinxbipride @highladyofhogawarts @mp-littlebit @andreperez11 @rcarbo1 @janebirkln @olive-main @sillyfreakfanparty @clementine111002 @thoughtdaughtersworld @blessthepizzaman @littleblackcatinwonderland @sizzlingstarlightsky @historygeekqueen @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife

Let me know if you want to be added to the list of tags!

[astayinwonderland]

Do you think we are about to make a terrible mistake? | Zhong Chenle

pairing: chenle x f.reader

genre: besties to lovers | smut +18 MDNI

summary: chenle has been away for a while and you miss your best friend-- however, everything changes when you realise you might actually love him more than a friend

wc: 2.2k

warnings: mentions and use of alcohol, anxiety, consensual sex, unprotected sex (pls no), oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms-- lmk if I forgot anything

It’s 15 minutes past 11, where the fuck is he? 

You already texted him twice. You called. The party had already started and your friends wondered if you would make it. Hell, you were wondering if you should just go on your own. But no– you promised you would get there together for old-time’s sake. It’s been a little over a year since Chenle moved out of the country, your days of embracing nothingness together are gone, movie nights are just nostalgic memories, and maybe some words left unspoken. You missed your best friend dearly and even though you often called each other, it was not the same. Not at all. You missed more than his company. You missed his essence, aura, sparkly eyes, smile, and touch… 

Your heart suddenly ached. Were you truly in love or is it just the fact that this is the first time you will see him since he left? The thoughts that rudely invade your brain get interrupted by three loud knocks. Running to the door, you can feel the thundering beating of your heart ringing in your ears. 

“I know I’m late, I’m sorry…. Please don’t be upset–” 

You open the door abruptly and there he is. 

Zhong Chenle. 

Blue 3-piece suit. His hair graciously falls over his forehead, framing his beautiful face. He gives you the brightest of smiles, your heart skips a bit. 

“Don’t hate me. Come here!” he opens his arms to embrace you. 

“Shut up,” you throw your arms around him, and suddenly everything is fine. Time has not passed. 

His nose lowers to your head and he inhales your scent. This is home to him, he can’t believe he’s been away from you for so long. All he yearns is to keep you close, but doing so means having to accept the fact that he is irremediably in love with you. 

Smoke and bright lights danced around the place and the crowd made way for you and the man of the hour apparently. Everyone reaches out to Chenle. Hugs, high fives, praises, and kisses shower him. You can’t help but feel a tad bit jealous. This was supposed to be a fun night for you and your best friend… and your other friends as well. But Chenle is loved, popular, and missed, of course, people would be all over him. You feel silly for suggesting going to the party in the first place. 

You’re snapped back to reality when your body crashes into Chenle’s. His hand is possessively placed around your waist. Your audible gasp makes him laugh. 

“Where did your mind go, silly?” 

“Nowhere, I just wish we were somewhere else. This is not how I envisioned tonight, you know… after spending so much time apart,” you force a smile and feel his thumb caressing you softly. There was something up with him, but to your surprise, you couldn’t read him. 

Chenle closes the distance between you too. He's a little too close, his breath fanning on your face. Is he going to–

“Chenle!” 

Shiny hair, plump lips, white smile. Her manicured hand was already snaking its way to Chenle’s arm. She looks at you, scanning up and down as if she were trying to figure out who you are. 

“Oh, hey! Wh- what are you doing here?” Chenle replies. A kiss on her cheek makes your heart sink. 

Chenle’s eyes go from you to the girl and again to you. He is about to introduce you but you suddenly feel like your heart is going to burst out your chest, your palms are sweaty, your eyes getting watery and your ability to breathe fades as you try to fight the feeling. 

“I really need to go. Sorry– Nice to meet you,” you say politely. You try not to cry as you make your way out. Chenle watches as you leave, but he feels how his chest tightens more and more with each step you take away from him. 

After his third call, you get into the shower hoping that the pain would fade away with the hot water hitting your vulnerable skin. With tears streaming down your face and sobs that echo around your bathroom you finish your shower. You are too exhausted to do anything else but sleep, and your phone has long been forgotten in your purse. 

You think you just blinked but in reality, it is a little past 3 a.m. and the faintest sound coming from your door seems to wake you up. In a panic, you rush and open the door to find a sobering Chenle by your door. 

“...it was about fucking time you opened that door, silly, I’ve been knocking for hours I thought–” 

You cut him off, pulling him in. 

“Chenle what the fuck?” 

He smiles at your puzzled expression. His hair is a bit messy now, blue suit is wrinkled. You can’t help but wonder if anything happened with the girl in the club. 

“I’ve been waiting for hours… I followed you back here but you locked the door. I called you so many times… ” he frowns. 

You go to the kitchen and fetch him a water bottle. As he starts drinking it, you find his eyes searching yours…  Sparks. No. No. This is your best friend Chenle. Nothing can ever happen between you and your best friend. The one who taught you how to ride a bike, tie your shoelaces, and give the best hugs ever. 

“You look so pretty,” he finally says. 

“Drink your water, Chenle,” you sigh. 

“You do!” he insists. 

“Who has she?” and you can’t believe the words that leave your mouth. You weren’t supposed to ask. 

“We did a semester together abroad. She is a good classmate that’s all. I never meant to upset you– you are too important…” 

You weren’t sure where the conversation was going, but Chenle assumed he talked too much. He puts the water bottle down and makes his way to you. Now you find yourself between your best friend and your bedroom door. The hard wooden surface against your back reminds you that once you cross that threshold with him, your relationship will change forever. 

His hands touch your waist, not sure if he has permission to do so, but you welcome him as the drug you need. His lips inches from yours and you pray he will kiss you, but time stops. It’s really only you and him at last like you dreamt of so many restless nights. 

“I’ve been wanting to ask you something since the moment I came back…” 

“Yes?” your voice comes out as a breathless whisper. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

You can’t even wait to answer him when your lips are already on his. His tongue teases yours and your lips part. He tastes of expensive wine, lust, and love. Chenle moans into your mouth and that is it for you. You want every single inch of you to be consumed by him. You reach out to open the door to your room. 

“Please,” you ask. 

“How can I say no to you?” he smiles and kisses you once again. 

Each second you spend kissing him you feel your skin getting hotter, desire coursing through your veins making you dizzy, and then you feel him carry you. Bride style, his lips never leaving yours. He carefully lowers you onto the bed, his hands now exploring your clothed body, the feeling of sparks under his fingertips making the moment intense, and urgent. Little moans and cries escape you both as Chenle helps you to straddle him. Your delicate fingers move his hair away from his face. The most beautiful man is underneath you, eyes on yours, lips parted. His chest rises and falls, you contemplate him for a moment. He takes your hands into his, everything seems surreal, you have spent countless times in this bedroom but not like this—a new territory. 

“Do you think we are about to make a terrible mistake?” your voice is small, you may not want to know what he has to say. 

He shakes his head. His hand reaches your cheek. 

“Do you?” 

Now you shake your head. 

“Good. Then kiss me, silly, and don’t stop unless you don’t want to do this–” but you don’t let him finish his thought and your lips already found his. 

It is then that you finally understand that he needs you as much as you need him. The pieces of clothing now are forgotten somewhere on your bedroom floor. Every part of you reacting to Chenle’s heavenly but sinful touch. His fingers finally take the only item of clothing left, your panties. He lowers himself, eye level with your wet cunt. 

“So pretty,” he murmurs. 

His tongue licks your entrance, ending in your clit which he sucks and your soul seems to leave your body as your back arches for him. Your hands immediately reach your breasts increasing the sinful pleasure coursing through you. You feel one of his fingers slide in you with almost no resistance. That’s how aroused you are for him. You gasp and your hips move, making the feeling of his hot mouth on your cunt even better. With his tongue flat on your slit, Chenle’s hands squeeze your thighs, encouraging you to use his face as you please. Only stopping to spit on your throbbing core, he eats you out so deliciously your soft moans turning louder. Legs over his shoulders now, he adds two curling fingers in you. 

Again and again, he kicks your clit, his fingers working magic inside you, fogging your brain and heightening the urge to cum for him. 

“Fuck! I– I’m–” you can’t think, you can’t speak… and so your orgasm hits you with such intensity you are shaking under him. Your legs turn to jelly. The heavy breathing that follows your cries echo in your ears. Chenle plants one last kiss on your clit and your legs close from the overstimulation. 

He lets out a low-pitched chuckle and the vibration travels straight to your clit again. 

“You okay?” 

You look at him in between your legs. Did this just happen? Your head falls back once more to the pillow. An involuntary laugh escapes your lips. But Chenle knows you, sometimes better than he knows himself he thinks and to him, this moment is making his heart go a million miles an hour. What an honour to have you like this, all fucked out, and all for him. 

Little kisses are planted on your thighs, on your lower stomach, your hands, your breasts, until he reaches your face. You giggle in response. His eyes meet yours, and different from what you thought, you are not embarrassed. You want him more than ever, so you kiss him. 

“More than okay,” you finally replied. 

Reaching south of his body you find his erection already leaking for you. You stroke it slowly, the faintest of moans leaving Chenle’s lips. This is the greatest reward you can get. His breath hitches as your pace gets faster. 

“Aaahhh…” a long, whiny moan. 

“You like that?” 

He nods reassuring you. 

You bring his hips lower, aligning his tip with your entrance. In anticipation, your eyes shut but immediately your jaw falls open when Chenle’s cock begins to stretch your needy cunt. Inch after inch, pleasure builds on pleasure and you silently pray the moment never ends when he starts moving in but not completely out of you. Your nails digging into his biceps, loving the way he stretches you out. 

“Ch-chenle,” 

“I know, I got you,” and he wraps one of your legs around his waist, making his thrusts deeper, his cock dragging against your walls that clench tightly around him. 

“Feels so so good,” your hand goes to his head, grabbing a handful of hair and pulling slightly. 

“Say. That. Again,” he moans. 

“It feels so good”. 

Chenle buries his face in the crook of your neck. Mild sharp pain fades into pleasure when he bites your skin, licking the now sensitive spot to ease the harsh sensation. You pull his hair once more, this time to make him kiss you. And he does, so lost in passion, so lost in you. The kiss is sloppy, messy, perfect. His thumb presses circles on your clit acting as the perfect trigger for your orgasm. You feel climbing higher and higher, his cock twitching inside you, his hot breath fanning on your face, his lips curving into a smile. Fuck, he is everything. 

“Chenle! Fuck… ah!” you cum for him. 

“Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes,” he repeats as a broken record as he pulls out and cums letting out a high-pitched moan that you will remember for the rest of your life. 

Chenle kisses your face, your hands, and helps you clean up. However, you didn’t exchange a word then. Now, you find yourselves back in bed, still naked. His arm around your waist, your head on his chest. His heartbeat is a love poem itself. 

“You know,” he breaks the silence. “I don’t ever want to say hello or leave without kissing you… I guess what I’m trying to say is–” 

You kiss him. It’s a long kiss, your lips pressed against his. Everything feels just right like it’s meant to be. 

“I really like you, Chenle,” you whisper, somewhat scared of what he will say back. 

“I really really like you too, silly,” he smiles. 

————————————————————-

a/n: this is pure ✨fiction✨

I hope enjoyed this :3 ~ masterlist

[cassieuncaged]

Batstarion (Astarion x Reader)

Summary: You share some time with a certain Ascended Vampire in bat form.

TW: none :)

WC: 1 K

A/N: just a fluffy oneshot inspired by Pani-artz Batstarion series, that’s all :)

Long, leathery wings stretch across the tufted cushion, a flurry of squeaks escaping before you whisper an evocation.

“Amicus animalis,” your fingers trace his tiny body, getting lost in the snowy coat that covers him. “You may speak now, love.”

“Lord,” he corrects in that buttery voice you delight in so much, though it’s difficult to take anything serious when Astarion lounges about in bat form. White pinpricks appear from behind an upturned snout, his menace evaporated as beady eyes muster any intimidation. “I am your lord and you will regard me as such.”

“Oh?” You bring a finger up to one fang, releasing a droplet that’s offered to the bat. A tiny pink tongue laps at it lazily. “It’s I who sits upon your throne; shan’t I be your lord?”

“Do not mock me, pet,” he seethes, though that pink noses nuzzles against your finger before sharply latching. He sips though it feels more like a tickle when he’s in this form, “I’m ghastly.”

“You’re adorable.” You coo, scratching beneath a fuzzy chin as he likes. When you stop, you noticed his batty expression has softened, tiny features relaxed. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Immensely,” he sighs, wings twitching against either of your thighs, cartilaginous sinews loosening as his claws dig into your breeches. “Turn me."

“Isn’t my lovely face enough?” You jest though some truth is hidden in that; after all, it’s been almost a year since you’ve last seen your own reflection. Now you chat with the bat form of your lover and closest confidant. Were you finally losing what was left of your mind?

“Don’t be naïve,” he tsks, sinking into the tufted velvet. “I’d like to look upon the audience.”

“The hall is empty, my love,” your eyes fall on the empty benches as wings threaten to flap. “Patience, I’ve got you.”

One hand slid beneath his warm belly, enjoying the heat you no longer wrought. Then he was carefully scooped and turned so that beady little gaze to see the ornate room that often clamored for the attention of the lord regally displayed upon the dais. Then a content chirp echoed through the vaulted ceilings as his body spasmed.

“Imagine if all the citizens of Baldur’s Gate saw you now, my lov…, my lord.” One finger began stroking from between tiny coned ears to the root of a wiry tail. His fur was so luscious and soft, not unlike the curls so carefully manicured atop his head, “Commanding with such ferocity propped upon the lap of your consort.”

“I suppose it would be quite the sight,” he chuckled, making her shiver like it always did. “Baldur’s Mouth would have quite the story. ‘Decrees heralded by rodent’; I think it’s silly enough to make the front page.”

“Think yourself popular, do you?” you teased, enjoying the moments he was seemingly relaxed and docile; they were so far few and between these days.

“Darling, I know I am.” He wriggled playfully against the cushion before pinkish hued wings began to flap. It was always mesmerizing to watch him float, expecting him to morph back into himself with a cloud of smoke. But he remained as he was, eyeing you expectantly. “The sun has long set; let’s peruse the palace gardens.”

The velveteen cushion was tucked upon the seat of the gilded throne as he began to glide to the far end of the hall, leaving you practically sprinting to catch up. Boots clacked against the marble floor, robes swishing around sure legs as you raced down the aisle. He paused, wings flapping in place as your place was taken beside him.

“Do keep up, dear,” he chided, little teeth clicking as he gracefully dove through the opened oak doors and down the decadently decorated hallway. “We haven’t all night. Oh, wait; we do don’t we?”

Your chuckle mingled with his, allowing the flamboyant bat dart to through the ornate glass doors that servants obediently wrenched open. It was a treat to watch him dive through the hedged archways, dipping down to bury his nose in a budding rose that practically glowed beneath the full moon.

“Pick one,” he encouraged, “Put it behind your ear.”

Doing as asked, two red pinpricks watched diligently as the petals hung over the shell of your ear. Then, it finally happened, fluffy white bat dissipating into a black mist before Astarion stretched out in front you, gently tipping your chin upwards.

“Beautiful.” He cooed before pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Just beautiful.”

“Would ‘Batstarion’ agree?” you giggled, enjoying the quiet moments before the hammer inevitably dropped. He was so rarely this tender and you missed it terribly. Gently, he pulled your hand into his before drifting to the edge of the gardens.

“He loves flowers, that’s true.” He grins, wiping residual pollen from his own nose, “Though I’m unable to hold you with those bloody wings. Not to mention the language barrier.”

“I love the chirps,” you argued, enjoying the arm that instinctually wrapped around your waist, possessively. “It’s very cute.”

“I’m meant to be menacing,” he growls and you’re reminded of his other form, back elongating, jaw distending. You shivered at the thought. So you allow your fingers to dance across a strong cheekbone as his gaze fell upon the lights twinkling lights in the Lower City below. “How will I ever rule The Sword Coast if I’m not?”

“In due time, my love.” You reassured him, enjoying the caress of his cold breath against your ear. “This will all be ours. They’ll pledge fealty and you can rest upon as many velvet pillows as you please. I’ll even rub your little furry belly.”

“Will you?” then, when you expected his teeth to plunge into your neck but nuzzled against you again. A welcome change. “That’d be strangely comforting.”

[samandcolbyownme]

Okay, I know you have tons of requests BUT, I need a god dang FILTHY Sam smut, idk if you say the most recent react video where he said FUCKING YOU the way he did but holy shit. I don’t care what the plot is, I just need dom Sam asap 😩👏🏻🖤

Summary: After going there separate ways for a few years, Sam and reader finally reunite, but it’s not like anyone expected.

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, criminal!reader, cop!Sam, mentions of guns and maybe other weapons, mentions of smoking weed/drinking alcohol, mentions of other drugs, talk of [small] crimes, forbidden love?, angsty, slight verbal altercations, kissing, hair pulling, choking, biting, oral (m rec), semi rough actions, creampie, filth - read with care my babies 🖤

Word Count: 4.5k | unedited

This was the only Sam request that I could find in my ask box - so with that being said the video that is referenced in the request, is no longer new.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Ｓａｔｕｒｄａｙ • Ｎｉｇｈｔ

“Is it just me..” you take a drag of the joint and hold it for a few seconds as you look around, “Or is this party actually not as fun as we thought it was going to be.”

“Yeah.” Your friend, Jaime scoffs, “You’re telling me.” They reach over, taking the burning object from in between your fingers, “There was supposed to be more people.“

You look around, raising your brows, “Theres like fifty people here, Jaim.”

“Do you want a drink?” They looks at you and you shake your head, “No, I think I’m going to start walking home soon.”

“What?” They look at you confused, “Why? Are you okay?”

You feel sick, like something is going to happen sick, and that doesn’t happen often, so when it does, you’re on edge, “Y-yeah. I just-“

“What? You have to get up early and get ready for work?” The fellow criminal laughs, “Please. Just one drink and then you can leave, okay?”

You stand up as you finish the joint that was passed back to you, “I need to pee.”

You ignore your name being called as you make your way towards the steps of the abandoned warehouse. your footsteps clunk down the old metal stairs as you make your way down.

Red and blue lights fill the empty warehouse through the broken and clear plastic covered window and you instantly panic, “Fuck fuck, fuck.”

You run towards the back, but you hear footsteps quickly making their way along side of the building with indistinguishable chatter.

You look around, already hearing and seeing people flee, “Shit.” You go into the old office, ducking down behind the filing cabinet.

If you get caught, you’re going to jail - end of story.

You mentally curse yourself, telling yourself that you should have just stayed at home.

“You check in there.”

“Got it.”

You hear the door creak open and a voice immediately follows, “If any is in here, come out with your hands raised. Now.”

You’re frozen. Unable to move.

A bright light blinds you from seeing anything else as the cop finds you, “Get up.”

You slowly move your shaking hand away from your face, and as you go to stand up and the light disappears, “Y/n?” You feel hands on your arms, pulling you back down to the floor, “Y/n, what are you doing here?”

Once your eyes adjust from the blinding light, you tense up again, “S-Sam?”

Sam was the first person you ever fell in love with, but once high school graduation happened, you parted ways, but Sam always promised to find you.

Six years later - here you are.

“Y/n.” Sam snaps you from your thoughts and you focus on him, watching as he looks around before leaning in, “Go.”

“What?” You shake your head, “N-no I-“

“I’m serious. You need to go, now.” He pulls you to your feet, “Listen to me. You need to run. They already called in more units, you need to go.” He pushes you towards the back door, “Now.”

“Where?” You manage to get out and he shrugs, “Just get the fuck out of here. I’ll find you.” He pushes you towards the door, reaching behind you to push it open, “I promise. Now go.”

And you went. Running as fast as you could, unsure of where you were headed. All you could think about was Sam and how differently your lives were, more or less on your side.

You were in line to be a nurse. Perfect attendance, perfect grades, you were labeled the nerd of your college freshman class. The sophomore year came around, you fell in with a very, wrong crowd.

That led you to fell in love with the way alcohol and weed numbed you, then it turned into you partying and opening more bottles than books.

You lost your job, your apartment, you had to drop out of school. Seeing Sam really made you realize just how off the beaten path you really were.

You come to a sudden halt when you reach road, almost eating the dirt. The flashing blue and red lights approaching, cause you to run back into the woods and duck behind some trees until they pass.

You let go of the breath you held, breathing rapidly as you try to finally catch your breath from the running.

“Y/n?”

Your head snaps over and you see Jaime, “Y/n?”

“Over here.” You wave them over and they duck down with you, “I seen you dart out the back, how did you get past those cops downstairs?”

“I was already outside when I see the lights. I just took off.” You swallow, “Who called?”

“Probably some asshole who doesn’t know what fun is.” They laugh and look around, “This is 290. If we walk that way, it’ll take us back to the motel.”

You nod, standing up as you glance back towards the building, “Okay.” You motion, “We should stay in the trees, through. They’ll probably patrol, you know?”

“They always do.”

——

Ｗｅｄｎｅｓｄａｙ

Every day, for the last four days, you’ve been thinking about Sam. Your mind hasn’t really gone elsewhere, other than to where you’re going to be sleeping that night.

You hated yourself, hated the way Sam found you.

You couldn’t fight off the anxious feeling, no amount of weed helped calmed your nerves. You needed to see Sam, and you were going to do whatever it takes.

“What are your plans for tonight?” Jaime asks as they sit down on the bed next to yours, “I might just stay in.”

You nod, “Yeah, that’s probably what I’ll do.” You roll over, letting out a sigh and Jaime notices, “You’ve been off. You good?”

You nod, “Just tired.”

You weren’t talking about needing sleep. You were sick of how you were. Broke, always needing to be drunk or high. You haven’t stole anything in a while, mainly because the last jail you were in was rough.

You needed help, but you didn’t want just anyone’s help.

“I want to go home, but I don’t even know where home is anymore.” You sigh, sitting up, “I want to get better. No more motel rooms and random friend’s cars.”

“How do you plan on doing that? The cops have to know we were both at that warehouse last night. That’s a trespassing. At least a misdemeanor.” Jaime argues, “You walk out there and you’re bound to get picked up.”

“I didn’t even want to be there last night. You’re the one who begged and begged for me to go then got pissy with me until I finally agreed.” You stand up, turning to face them, “I really wouldn’t be where I’m at if I haven’t met that stupid fucking cousin of yours.”

“You fell into this cycle yourself, y/n. Don’t try and blame Cassidy because you’re the one who’s, too much of a fucking pussy to just stop drinking or smoking.” Jaime’s stare holds on you and you clench your jaw, “Fuck you. I’m fucking done.”

You grab your backpack, stuffing what little you have inside before slinging it over your shoulder. Jaime, at this point, is back tracking, trying to take back what they had said but it was already, too late.

“N-no please, y/n wait. You can’t- I’m so-sorry.” They plead as they walk up to you, “Y/n. I-I can’t do thi-“

“I’m not going to throw your name under the bus if that’s what you’re worried about.” You keep your stare at the floor, “I made a promise to you, and as of right now, I don’t know where you’re at.”

You look up at them and they nod, “Thank you.”

“Mm.” You raise your brows, twisting the knob before opening the door, “See you around, I guess.”

“You won’t.” Jaime laughs, “Take care of yourself, y/n.”

You turn, looking up at them, “You, too, Jaim.”

You step out, throwing up your hood before walking away. You couldn’t lie, you were paranoid as hell. You didn’t want to go back to jail, or get another misdemeanor or worse.

You needed to find Sam.

After a little bit of walking towards the city, you hear the sound of a car coming up behind you. You clench your fists, keeping your pace as you see it slow down next to you, “Y/n.”

You stop and turn to look at Sam, and before you can say anything, he motions, “Get in.” Without any hesitation, you walk around and get in.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” He glances over at you as he starts driving, “Where were you?”

“At the motel back there.” You motion, “I was with a friend.” Sam nods, “Were you safe, at least? I-“ he stops talking and you take a quiet breath, “Ask.”

He shakes his head, “Those people you were with at that party, did you know they had hard drugs?”

You shake your head, “No. I didn’t. It was just supposed to be a small get together. Some beer, weed. I didn’t expect fifty some people and hard drugs to show up.”

“You need to lay low for a few days.”

“Are they looking for me?” Your heart starts to beat harder as Sam looks over at you, “As of right now, no. They’re only focused on finding out where the drugs came from, but they can turn on you at any second, y/n. I know how these people are.”

“These people, happen to be the ones that held me up at my lowest.” You argue and Sam scoffs, “What, when you were so crossfaded you couldn’t stand?”

He was right, but it still hurt coming from him.

“Sorry, that..” he shakes his head and you sigh, “No, no. You’re right.” You look out the window, “I think we’re both in a sort of shock seeing each other again.”

The tone in Sam’s voice makes your heart shatter, “You dropped off the face of the earth, y/n.”

“I know.” Your voice is quiet and your stare is on the floor. Sam takes a deep breath, “You still look good, though.” You glance over at him, smirking slightly as you shake your head, “Better than my rap sheet.”

“Petty theft.” He shrugs, “Now if you robbed a bank, then we’d have a problem.”

“Don’t we already?” You look over at him and he looks at you confused, “What do you mean, y/n?”

“isn’t it obvious? You’re a cop. I’m labeled a criminal. Those things usually aren’t things you’d see together outside the walls of a police station, right.”

“The last time you stole anything was three years ago, y/n, and the woman dropped the charges.” Sam sighs, “I understand if you don’t trust me, right now. But I’ll do whatever it takes for you to understand that I am trying to help you. I miss you, I lo-“

You look over at him, “What?”

“I would love to help you get back onto your feet. You’re still a smart, beautiful girl and I know in my heart, that you want to get better.”

“I do.”

“So let me help you, y/n. You can stop running.” Sam comes to a stop outside a fancy looking building and you lean forward, taking it in for a second, “You live here?”

You look over at Sam and he nods, “Come on.”

He gets out of the car, grabbing your backpack before you could, and he walks around to your door, opening it up for you.

He leads you inside, up to the fourth floor where his apartment resides, “Just at the end of this hall.” You nod, looking around at the fancy painted numbers on the plaque next to the doors.

“Here we are.” Sam unlocks his door and pushes it open, “Go ahead.” You look from him to the open doorway, slowly walking in as he follows behind you.

“If you want, and please stop me if I overstep, but we can live here, together.” Sam slowly walks up behind you, “I meant it when I said I’d find you.”

You turn around to look up at him. You blink as your eyes fill up with tears, “I-I..” you step back, “Sam. I can’t put you at risk for someone like me and my bad reputation.”

“Y/n.” Sam’s eyes scan over your face and he takes a deep breath, “I never stopped loving you. Even after I lost contact with you.” He slowly reaches up, his hands laying against your cheeks, “I swore that I’d use whatever I learned in the academy to find you.” His thumb strokes your cheek and as much as you want to pull away from his touch, you can’t help but lean into it.

“I’d risk it all for you.” Sam whispers, “I thought you died. I was checking death records, calling around to other cities, giving out your description to hospitals.” He sighs, shaking his head, “I needed to know where you were.”

“Sam.” You go to push him away and he steps back, “You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

“I’m not, afraid.”

“Yeah, you are.” He nods, “You’re scared of the way I make you feel because you don’t want to feel anything anymore.”

“I want to get better.” You mumble, tears spilling from your cheeks. But that wasn’t the only thing that spilled, “I convinced myself that you would hate me, that you did hate me. You were going to do great things with your life, and you clearly proven that to be correct, and I can’t fuck that up for you now because that’s what I do, Sam. I fuck up. Everything.”

You take a deep, shaky breath, “I’ve stolen. I’ve lied. I’ve ran from other cops. I’ve been to jail, I-“ you shake your head, looking up at Sam, “You don’t want me.”

“I always want you.” Sam shrugs, laughing slightly, “I don’t know if you’re trying to scare me away, but I promise you, I’ve seen worse than this, y/n.”

He walks over and you stay still, “We can get you through this. We can get you back on top. Anything it takes.”

“Everyone in my life has left me like I was nothing.”

Sam frowns at your words, “You’re everything to me.” He slides his hands up, running his fingers through your hair, “Literally, everything.”

“How long until this blows over?”

He shrugs, “Few days? I go into work tomorrow, I work first the rest of this week, but I’ll find out. Okay? We will get you through this.”

You nod, your mind racing a mile a minute, “Okay.” You let out a sigh, “Can I shower or something?” You motion to your backpack, “I’ll also nee-“

“Hey. Whatever you need. Okay?��� Sam raises his brows, “And don’t apologize for anything.”

You laugh slightly, nodding your head as you look up at him, “Thank you for not giving up on me, Sam.” You walk over, wrapping your arms around him.

He kisses your head and tightens his arms, “Mm, your hair smells good.”

“That’s probably the only good thing about that motel, the soap smells amazing.” You laugh as you lean back, wiping the tears from your face before Sam leads you to the bathroom to show you how the shower works.

(A/n, please tell me I am not the only one who gets anxiety with other people’s showers and not knowing how to work them.)

——

Ｆｒｉｄａｙ

You slept through Sam getting up for work, even him kissing your head. The past few days you haven’t slept well, and it finally caught up with you.

Sam let you sleep because he knew you needed it, too.

After getting up, you sit up and look around. You still can’t believe that after all these years, you and Sam have found one another.

You can’t help but smile thinking about it, him. You loved being around him because, even after all these years, he’s your safe space.

You get out of bed, making your way to the kitchen to get coffee. Sam has made it every morning for you since you agreed to stay.

As you bring your mug to your lips, you spot a box and a note on the counter.

Y/n

I stopped after work yesterday and got you this. You don’t have to accept it. I just figured you’d want something to stay in touch while I’m at work.

Sam

You smile as you lay the note back down, bringing the box closer before opening it. You pull out the phone and turn it on.

Your heart skips a beat when you see an old picture of you and Sam set as the lockscreen, and you can’t help but tear up.

Sam truly does love you.

You go into contacts, and just as you suspected, Sam is the only contact. You sit down on the stool as you tap the message icon, You didn’t have to, but thank you so much, Sam.

You set the phone down, reaching over to bring your coffee closer and you get a text back from Sam, I wanted to. I figured it would help things.

You sip your coffee and take a deep breath, I never stopped loving you either.

You straighten up, clearing your throat as you start to type, but stop when you see Sam’s text come through, I’m so happy to hear that, y/n. I just don’t want you to think I’m buying your love or anything like that.

You’re not, I know that, you stand up as you walk over to the couch, plopping down to turn the tv on.

You text Sam back and forth for a little while, mainly asking him how work is and updating him about what is playing on the tv.

Silly stuff, but you both loved it.

——

“Hey.” Sam whispers as he tries to wake you up, “Y/n, I’m home.”

You blink a few times, stretching as you sit up, “Oh hey. Sorry, I must have passed out again.” He shakes his head as he sits down next to you, “You’re fine, sweetheart.”

Your eyes scan over his uniform, you couldn’t lie, seeing Sam in it was such a turn on for you.

“Is that okay?”

You look up at Sam, blinking as you shake your head, “S-sorry.. what’s okay?”

He chuckles, “I asked if you wanted me to order in for dinner?” You nod, “Yeah, that’s fine.”

He nods, “Okay. What were you thinking?” You tilt your head, smirking slightly, “If you want my honest answer, I’m not really thinking about dinner.”

He raises his brows and leans back. His arms stretched out on the top of the couch, “What are you thinking about then?”

Your eyes scan up his body, stopping on his name badge before you turn towards him, “How good you look in this uniform.”

He bites down on his lower lip, slowly pulling it from his teeth’s grasp as you crawl towards him. His eyes shoot down to your hand lying on top of his thigh, “You know what I’m thinking about?”

You shrug, “I could guess..”

He chuckles, reaching up to pull you onto his lap, “Just how much I miss fucking you.” He pulls you in, your lips connect with his and there’s instant fire.

You grind down onto him and his hands fly to your ass, squeezing and groaning as he bucks his hips upward, “You sure you want to do this?”

“You are the one thing I’ve always been sure about, Sam.” You smile, running your hand through his hair and he nods, “Okay.”

He pushes you back onto the couch, his hips resting between your legs, “Seeing you in my shirts.” He kisses down your neck, “In my bed.” He kisses back up your neck as his hand slips under the shirt on your body, “Been fighting the urge to even kiss you.”

You moan quietly as his fingers twist and pull at your nipples, “Sam.”

“I’m right here, baby.” He moves to kneed the mound of flesh, “M’not goin’ anywhere.”

His lips press to yours and your legs tighten around his waist. Your hands move to unbutton his uniform top, pulling it to untuck from the hold of his belt, “Need you. Been too long.”

He chuckles as he leans up to push his shirt down his shoulders, “I don’t want to rush anything, sweetheart.” He takes off his fitted white tee and throws it.

Your hands slide up his chest and you pull him back in by the neck, “I trust you.”

He smiles before kissing you, his other hand sliding up your leg and dipping down in between to pull your panties to the side. He groans against your lips as he drags his middle finger through your folds, “God, you are soaked.”

“Have you seen what you look like in your uniform, you’d be wet, too.” You giggle at the words and Sam just stares at you with a smile, “I.. will take your word for it.” He chuckles as he leans into kiss up your neck the same time his finger pushes into you.

You gasp out, hands squeezing his biceps. He kisses up to your ear, his voice low as he adds a second finger, “That feel good, baby?”

You nod, lips parted as he curls them upward, “Uh h-huh.” You turn your head, desperate for his lips on yours. You roll your hips, moaning into his mouth as he works his hand faster, thrusting in and out.

You arch your back, moaning out as his thumb brushes over your clit, “F-fuck. Sam.” You moan louder, “Almost there.”

“All you baby, whenever you want.” He presses kisses to your cheek, “You’re so fucking hot.” He groans lowly as he grinds his hips against your leg.

“f-fu-“ You let out a long and loud moan as you start to slowly come undone, whimpering and gasping out as he guides you through the high.

His hand is quickly withdrawn from between your legs and he works faster to undo his belt and get his pants off.

You sit up, reaching forward to pull him towards you by the band of his boxers. He watches down, chest rising and falling quickly with anticipation of your next move.

You pull them down, freeing his cock and instantly leaning down to swirl your tongue around the tip. Sam gasps as his knees buckle and his hand goes to the back of your head, “O-oh fuck.”

You work at taking him in, swirling your tongue and groaning as you clench around nothing. You bob your head in a slowly steady rhythm, leaning back to look up at him and it’s a sight that makes Sam absolutely weak.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He smirks and you lean back, hand still pumping his cock, “Like what, baby?”

He chuckles and pushes your head back down, “You know what.” He groans as you push your head down as far as you can, gagging around him slightly before lifting your head and repeating the process.

“That’s my girl, fuck.” Sam’s eyes close for a few seconds but reopen to watch you, “Still the best.”

You lean back, smirking up at him and he pushes you back, pushing your legs open with his knee. He dips his head down to kiss you as you feel the head of his cock rub against your clit.

Before you can plead for anything, his cock slips in past your folds and you moan out loudly as you feel his hips rest against yours.

“Feels like I’m taking you all over again.” His voice is low as he groans, “Still my pussy.”

You gasp out as you feel him pull out and slide back in, “Still yours.” You nod as you lay a hand on his cheek, moaning out loudly as his thrusts pick up speed.

Your eyes roll back and your back arches off the couch, “Fuuuck.” You whine out, “Yesyesyes.”

Sam reaches up, pulling your head down with his fingers on your chin, “Look at me, sweetheart.”

Your eyes open and your lips part as your moan breathlessly, “Feels so good.”

He smirks quickly before moaning, “Fuck, y/n.” His hand grips your waist, “Fuck. Fuck. You make me want to cum and I don’t want to just yet.”

You whimper, “M’so close again, Sam.” You wrap your arms around his neck, moaning out as your legs follow around his waist.

Sam’s grip on the back of the couch tight as he groans, “Just a little.. bit longer.. can you wait for me?”

“Y-yes.” You whimper out, clenching your walls around his cock, “F-fuck.”

“Doing so good, taking me so well.” Sam’s words fuel the fire you’re trying to hold back, “So fucking good, baby.”

You whimper, bringing his hand to your throat. Your vision slightly turns blurry from a mix of his tight grip and the orgasm that’s slowly making its way to center stage, “S-Sam.”

“Do you wa-“

“Keep going.” You manage to squeak out. Your eyes roll back and you can’t hold it anymore. Silent moans slip through your parted lips and you can feel your thighs growing wetter with each one of his thrusts.

Sam lets go of your throat as his cock twitches inside of you, pushing his cum deeper as his thrusts slow down.

He pulls out, planting a kiss to your forehead before he sits down by your feet. His eyes scan up your legs, admiring the mess that you two had made together.

You sit up, cheeks growing red as you notice what he was looking at. He smirks and shakes his head as he leans over, “Don’t be embarrassed, sweetheart. I think it’s hot when you make a mess like this.”

You smile and shake your head, “Whatever you say.”

“I say..” he stands up, pulling you with him, “That we go get a shower and then order some dinner.” He wraps his arms around your waist, “And I’ll have dessert while we wait.”

He attacks your neck and you can’t help but laugh, “Sounds like a good plan to me.”

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Idk why I feel like this sucks, but I’ll leave it up to you to tell me what you think! Thank you so much for reading and as always, I love you! See you in the next one!

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[deanssluvr]

thought you were made for me pt. 3

part 1 | part 2

pairing: brothers bsf!Joost Klein x fem!reader

summary: A week has passed since the night you spent together and now you’re going on your first date with him. (this is a continuation of “thought you were made for me” but can be read as standalone)

warnings: fluff and smut. 18+. fingering. oral (fem receiving). p in v.

word count: 3k

a/n: sorry getting this part out so late. I went on vacation and couldn’t figure out what I wanted to do for this part. I honestly fought with myself when deciding if i wanted this to have smut or not. anyways hope y’all like it .

The days leading to your date were agonizingly long. And it was all because of your brother. You and Joost couldn’t get a moment alone with him around. He was always asking Joost to go somewhere or to go do something. As much as it pissed you off, you couldn’t be mad at him. He has no idea what is going on between you both. Every time you two were around him you both pretended as if you couldn’t be bothered with each other. That was the part that hurt. Not being able to hold him or touch him. Though Joost on the other hand loved being risky. Whether it was sneaking touches under the blanket while you watched a movie or sneaking away from your brother just to join you in the shower. He always made sure to be unpredictable and that made you even more attracted to him. You knew that if you got caught, it would be a disaster. But you still couldn't get enough of him.

The day finally came when your date was supposed to happen. Joost hadn’t told you anything, claiming that it was a “secret”. You didn’t dig any deeper than that, anticipating where he was going to take you. He had told you that the date was gonna be casual, so you opted for a more comfortable outfit. You had a few options lying on your bed and were having trouble choosing, so you texted your friends for help. It took 20 minutes just for them to agree on an outfit, but you were grateful for their help, now you were behind on time to do your makeup, so you quickly walked to your bathroom and started on your makeup. You choose to do something minimal due to time. Your brother walked into the bathroom looking as though he just woke up from a nap and grabbed his toothbrush. He looked over at you doing your makeup.

“Where are you going?” You were quick to come up with an excuse.

“Me and some friends are going out.”

“Oh okay. Hope you have fun.” He gave you a small smile before brushing his teeth. You utter a thanks and leave the bathroom once you are finished. You head to your bedroom to finish getting ready. You search through your jewelry box for some accessories. It took you longer than you want to admit to choose. You did end up settling on a necklace and a few rings. Looking in your mirror, you scanned yourself to ensure you were happy with your outfit. You were satisfied and laid back on your bed, staring at the ceiling. Your mind wandered back to the last few days. Maybe it was a stretch, but it was perfect. Sure sneaking around wasn’t always the best, but you enjoyed the thrill. And most importantly you enjoyed the time you were spending with Joost.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a notification on your phone. You sat up and grabbed your phone, looking at the text.

Hey I’m outside

You were quick to text him back.

okay. I’ll be out in a minute

You spray yourself with perfume, the one Joost loves. It was vanilla perfume a friend bought you for your birthday. You don’t wear it often, but when you did in his own words he thought you smelled like a baked good. You quickly look at yourself in the mirror again, and when you deem yourself ready you head downstairs. Stopping by your brother’s room, you said a quick goodbye to your brother before heading out the door. It was pretty dark out since the sunset: nothing but the lampposts outside illuminating the street. In front of your driveway, you saw Joost leaning on his car smoking a cigarette. He watched as you walked up to his car and smiled. He let the cigarette fall from his lips onto the ground and stomped it out. Once you made it to him he embraced you in a tight, heartfelt hug. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of his cologne tinged with a faint hint of cigarette smoke. You both stood there for a long moment, in the dimly lit street, embracing each other. Joost pulled away and looked into your eyes, his voice soft and tender.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” You smiled. Those three words made your heart flutter. Joost leaned in and gave you a gentle kiss on the forehead. He pulled away, a small smile still lingering on his lips. He moved to open the car door for you and closed the door once you were inside. The drive to this mystery location was smooth. You both chatted and laughed along the way. One of his hands was gripping the steering wheel tightly as he navigated the car through the city streets. The other hand rested on your thigh, his thumb gently caressing your skin. There was a comfortable silence between you both. Only the music on the radio could be heard. It sounded like some sort of soft jazz music that he had on semi-low volume. It was about 15 minutes before he turned into the parking lot of the place. You felt a sense of anticipation as he parked the car and shut it off.

“We’re here.” He was grinning and you were now a tad bit more suspicious. You both unbuckled your seatbelts and stepped out of the car. You walked around the car to get a look at the place. Above you can read the bright green neon sign. “Game Galaxy”. It was an arcade that just opened up that you wanted to visit, but could never find the time.

“Suprise!” Joost grabbed your hand and led the way into the arcade. You followed him, your heart pounding. You both stopped in front of the door, Joost opened it and the two of you stepped inside. The neon lights of the arcade flickered overhead as you both stepped inside. A cacophony of sounds greeted you. Arcade machines beeping, music blaring, and the faint hum of air conditioning. At the desk at the front, he buys you both cards to use at the machines and turns to you, a big grin on his face. He handed you the card. You smiled back and thanked him. You both began to browse the machines, deciding which ones to play. Excitement buzzed between you both as you surveyed rows of games. You both decided on a simple game of air hockey first. Which quickly turned into 4 games all of which you won.

“Again.” He was about to swipe his card again.

“What? So you could lose again?” you teased him.

“Oh. You wanna bet?” You both ended up playing a 5th game, in which he lost again, but only by one point this time. He hung his head in shame as he walked over to you.

“So what’s my prize for winning?” You wrap your arms around his neck. He placed a soft kiss on your cheek.

“I can give you your prize when we get home.” He pulled back and smirked. Then he looked behind you at the claw machine. It had Hello Kitty stuffed animals inside. He took your hand and led you to the machine.

“I’m gonna win you one.” He was quick to swipe his card, starting the claw.

“You know these things are rigged, right?” He scoffed.

“Maybe, but I’m feeling lucky today.” He began guiding the claw with precise movements. It grasped one of the stuffed animals and lifted it, only to drop it just before reaching the chute.

“Ugh, so close!” you pouted. But he wasn’t a quitter. He played a good 7 seven times, each time getting closer, but losing it near the end.

“Babe, It’s okay to accept defeat. I told you these things are rigged.” You chuckled then realized he wasn’t going to give up. “Here.” You placed a kiss on his cheek before he started to play. “For good luck.” He smiled sweetly before moving the claw. He was concentrating hard as he moved the claw. It picked up one of the stuffed animals. You were preparing for it to drop it again, but it didn’t. It continued to drop it in the chute for you to grab. You were incredibly shocked as Joost picked it up and handed it to you with an excited smile on his face. You were impressed and the two of you laughed and chatted while you played other games. You both wandered around and played games such as Dance Dance Revolution, Skee Ball, Galaga, and various other games, you always came out on top. He blamed it on the fact that he was going easy on you, but it was obvious he was lying.

You both decided to take a break and get some food. Your arms were interlocked with his as you both walked up to the food stand and skimmed the menu for a few minutes. He ordered a pizza for you both to share as well as two sodas. Once your order was finished, you both took a seat at a nearby booth. As you ate you both took the time to catch up with each other. He told you funny stories about his time on tour, and you responded by telling him a few of your college stories. You both hadn't realized how long you’d been talking until you checked your phone. It was getting quite late and you told him this, so you both agreed on one more game before leaving. You both walked around the wide variety of games before settling on a racing game.

“Ready to lose again?” you teased.

“We’ll see about that.” he retorted back, his hands gripping the steering wheel. You both raced through virtual streets, intensely focused. You were doing fairly well in second place and Joost in seventh. But on the final lap, he managed to pass up every car, including yours. His car crossed the finish line first, and he threw his arms up in triumph.

“Congrats on your first win.” It was meant to be a tease but he didn’t care, he simply thanked you with a huge grin on his face. You both laugh as you walk away from the game. As you both walked toward the exit, you spotted a photo booth.

“Wait. One last thing before we go,” you said, dragging Joost inside.

You both squeezed into the booth, making a few funny faces for the camera. An idea popped into your head for the last photo. You gently grabbed his chin and pulled him into a quick kiss. You giggled when you pulled away. The photos were printed out in a strip, capturing their silly expressions. You tore it in half, giving one piece to him.

“A souvenir,” you said, smiling. Joost looked at the strip of photos, then at you, and grinned. He slipped his hand into yours as you both walked out into the parking lot. You both made your way back to the car, hand in hand. Outside, the cool evening air was a stark contrast to the vibrant, chaotic energy of the arcade.

"I had a lot of fun tonight," you said softly, a genuine smile on your face.

"Me too," he replied, his voice equally sincere.

You both walked to Joost’s car, the parking lot illuminated by the soft glow of streetlights. He opened the passenger door for you, and you slid in with a grateful smile. He got in on the driver's side and started the engine, the car humming to life. As he drove through the quiet streets, the conversations between you flowed easily. A mix of lighthearted banter and deeper, more meaningful exchanges. The car ride was filled with laughter and moments of comfortable silence, the kind that only happens when two people are truly at ease with each other. You watched the city lights blur past, feeling a contentment you hadn’t felt in a long time. When you both reached your house, he pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine. He walked you to the door, both of you reluctant to say goodnight.

“So about my prize?” you cocked your head to the side.

“Oh, you want that now?” He smirked and you nodded. You took him by the hand and led him inside. You stopped before going upstairs.

“Shit, I forgot that Ethan’s home.” You were sure he would be asleep at this point,

“As if that’s stopped us before.” You rolled your eyes at him and led him upstairs, quietly, to your room. You were barely through the doorway before he pulled into a heated kiss. You were able to close and lock the door before your hands found their way around his neck. His hands were resting on your hips but quickly latched on the hem of your shirt and then gently pulled it over your head, discarding it somewhere on the floor. He did the same with your bra as his hands reached up your back, sending goosebumps over your skin. You both never faltered from the kiss and you both became hungrier. His fingers were quick to unclasp your bra and you both pulled away to let it fall to the floor.

He softly pushed you back on the bed. At the edge of the bed, you watched him remove his shirt and unbutton his pants letting them drop to the floor. You stared at him, letting your eyes explore his body. Your glance traveled down following his happy trail to the clear bulge growing in his boxers. When you met his gaze, he was smirking at you causing you to become flustered. He leaned down and crawled between your legs. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your pants and he pulled them down, tossing them somewhere on the floor. One of his hands began rubbing your clit through your panties. This caused you to squirm and a gasp left your lips. His other hand was on your cheek and he leaned down to capture you in another kiss, this time it was messy as you were pathetically moaning into his lips. His hands dipped into your panties where his fingers continued rubbing your clit before dipping between your folds and inside of you. You brought your hand over your mouth, stifling the loud noises that threatened to leave your lips. His fingers were quick and your wetness was covering his hands. You leaned your head back further into the pillow, giving him more room to kiss and nip at your neck.

He soon stopped and you let your hand fall from your mouth. His hands carefully removed your panties, throwing them to the side. He leaned down and softly kissed your inner thigh, each kiss getting dangerously closer to your pussy. Then he hovered over it. You could feel his warm breath on your clit. You whined a little.

“Baby, please…” You begged. It came out way more desperate than you wanted. He chuckled before lowering his head and ran the tip of his tongue down your slit. His hands moved to wrap under your thighs and around your hips pulling you closer to his face.

“Oh fuck.” You bit your lip and one of your hands found its way into his hair, entangling themselves. You pulled gently as he hummed into your clit, sending vibrations through your body. His hand came up and he started fingering you. This caused you to pull a little harder on his hair. You desperately wanted to cry out his name, and it was becoming increasingly more difficult for you to stay quiet. He added a third finger, curving to press against your sweet spot. The way he’s lapping over your clit has you nearly going over the edge and seeing stars. You started grinding yourself on his tongue as he kept fucking you with his fingers. You were so close and he knew, so he stopped what he was doing. Earning a pathetic whimper from you.

“Don’t worry. I’m about to give you the rest of your ‘prize’ schat (baby).” He breathed as he lowered his boxers just enough for his cock to spring free. His hands gently pulled you closer to him, your legs resting on either side of his waist. He looked down at your wet cunt as he pushed his tip into you. You lean your head further back into the pillow, quiet moans leaving your lips as you try to hold yourself back. As he sinks himself further into you, he leans down and pulls you into another messy kiss. Your tongues fighting to explore each other. Once he was fully inside, he pulled out slightly before slowly thrusting into you. Your hands were digging into his shoulders with each thrust. Then his hand dipped between your legs to rub your clit.

“Fuck, just like that, oh god.” is all you could get out as his hips slammed into yours. You were dangerously close and he could tell. “So close.” was all you could get out. You were scared that anything else would come out in incoherent sentences.

“Look at me schat (baby). I wanna watch you cum all over my cock.” he rasped. These words were enough to bring you over the edge, and you looked at him as you came. Your walls clenched around him and it felt as though electricity had run through you. He watched as your orgasm hit you and the way you said his name as you came brought him over the edge. His hips stutter to a stop as he quickly pulls out and comes on your stomach, a curse spills from his lips. You both stay like that for a moment, panting.

“I’m gonna go get something to clean you up with.” He puts his pants back on and leaves your room. After about 5 minutes he comes back in with a damp cloth and cleans you up. When he’s finished he cups your cheek and kisses you softly. When he pulls away you both look at each other lovingly. Then you gesture for him to lay down with you, which he does gladly. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close to him.

“Goodnight Joost.” You spoke quietly.

“Goodnight liefde (love).”

[butterflybuckethat]

Stranger Places ✶ Part II

Part I - 🦋 Masterlist 🦋

Notes: Carmen Berzatto x Fem!Reader; Carmy finds you drunk in the bathroom of The Bear. (1.6k words)

Warnings: Slow burn

You cupped your hands against the glass windows of The Bear. This felt like a never-ending nightmare, as if Dante’s Inferno was set in Chicago, as if the sky had fallen and you were the only one still trapped on Earth. It took all of twenty minutes after you left last night to discover that you had lost your watch, but you couldn’t go back, not when you knew he was still there. You figured now, at 6:30am, was a reasonable time not to run into him.

The restaurant was spotless, no trace of the confetti or glitter you had attempted to dodge on your way out, and completely empty. If you had left literally anything else you owned you probably would have abandoned it but of course it had to be your watch, your most prized possession. So you went around back.

Sleepless nights were not uncommon for Carmy; plagued with recurring nightmares, the exhaustion often felt more tolerable. This was not the reason he didn’t go home last night. He couldn’t get you out of his head. 

He really didn’t know anything about you, not anything he could use to find you. Except for that name, Milly. 

As morally questionable as the White Pages are, they did prove useful. It turned out that there were very few Milly’s in the Chicago area under the age of 80; two, in fact. “Are you still there?” This was one.

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry,” he said, juggling the duct taped landline and his pack of smokes. He had already been stuck in this conversation for fifteen minutes. He didn’t mind listening to her story, he had disrupted her morning after all; that is, until it turned into a pitch for Mary Kay. “I’m not really into makeup.”

“That’s alright sweetie. It has nothing to do with that.”

You froze as you rounded the corner to the back alley, there he was. You watched as he spoke into the phone, lit cigarette in his mouth. Even with the bags under his eyes and mussed hair, he looked great. You could always come back, you supposed, but there was something that pulled you toward him. A sense of familiarity, of attraction.

He nearly dropped the phone when he saw you, barely catching it as his posture straightened. You looked so different from last night in jeans and an oversized sweater. You were beautiful and fresh faced and Carmen felt a strange relief wash over him. You greeted him with a wave and a tight-lipped smile. 

“I didn’t think I would see you again,” he said.

“I lost my watch.” You held up your empty wrist as proof, sleeve pooling at your elbow, and he gestured for you to come inside. “You can finish your phone call.” It took him a second to understand what you meant.

“Oh shit!” A burst of laughter spilled from your lips and it swelled in his chest. “I gotta go,” he spoke into the phone and hung up without waiting for a response.

Carmen ignored the guilt he felt on his hands and knees as he “helped” you search for the watch, acting as if he hadn’t meticulously cleaned every inch of The Bear just a few hours earlier. The watch wasn’t there and he was stalling your journey towards finding it but he just needed more before he could officially let you go. He wanted answers, he told himself, to the convoluted mystery you seemed to be at the center of. That was all.

“I still don’t know your name.”

“Why do you need to know it?” 

His curiosity overrode your curt response, “I figure we’re trauma bonded now.”

“I traumatized you?” 

“Well, you certainly made an impression,” he teased, emboldened by the upward twitch of your lips.

You told him your name and he knew he would never forget it. 

You weren’t sure how he convinced you to stay for breakfast. Somewhere between his goofy smile and a twirl of your hair, you agreed. 

You could hear the steady chop of Carmen’s knife as you went to search the restroom. You hesitated at the threshold, dread flooding your system. 

 “Where did you get the name Milly from?” you asked, honestly just looking for a distraction. 

“It was the name your reservation was under.” You jumped, not realizing he was behind you. He must have noticed your apprehension because he wrapped his hand around the crook of your elbow, leading you away. “Your watch isn’t in there,” he confessed, explaining the nightly cleanings. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I didn’t tell you sooner…” You analyzed his face, looking for anything malicious or dishonest, but found nothing but open sincerity. “I just- I just didn’t want you to leave yet.” 

Carmy, suddenly feeling very much like an open wound, went to check his quiche. He was almost hoping for a disaster, anything to distract from what a fool he’s been, but it was perfect. “I actually might have found Milly’s number, though!” He couldn’t help himself, grabbing the home phone from where he left it, he peeled up the post-it with the second name, Milly Walker, and began dialing. He could fix this for you. You might not find the watch, but at least he could give you some answers. The phone rang in his ear and he offered you a soft smile, putting it on speaker. 

You were growing increasingly nervous. There was something you weren’t saying. Ring! Ring! It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Carmen because, weirdly enough, you did. It’s just, you left all this behind. Ring! Ring! You could practically hear your therapist's voice asking why you even went out with Mark if that were true. Ring! Ring! Your lips parted. Ring! Ring! “I actually know who she is, Milly.”

“Hello?” You lunged at Carmen, trying to get the phone. You both fell, landline skittering away, batteries popped and rolling in opposite directions. 

“Do you think it hung up?” you whispered. 

“Yeah, I would say so.” His laugh was low and breathy. Butterflies bloomed in your chest at the realization of his proximity. “You’re beautiful,” he said. 

You tentatively touched his chin, trailing your fingers up his jaw. This was all so fast and way too good to be true. “You know nothing about me.”

“I don’t need to.” His voice was hoarse, eyes locked on your lips. You leaned in, prepared to set aside all your hurt and pain for just this one moment, and—

Ring! Ring!

You jumped, startled, away from Carmen and onto the linoleum floor. You stared at the phone, batteries still removed. “It’s alive.”

“We have another one,” Carmen said, amused, helping you stand. You followed him to the second phone, further into the kitchen, next to a bunch a hanging printouts of pastries and movie stills and more. 

You watched Carmen adjust his clothes and his hair as if the person on the other end of the line was going to see him. You giggled, only a little, and he gave you a sheepish smile in return. You didn’t really date anymore, not really, not since Mark. It was just too difficult, the awkward first dates, one night stands that never turned into more, the managing of trust issues… So you decided, no more dating just to date. If you wanted to be with someone then that was who you would be with—that was almost a year and a half ago and no one seemed worthy. But maybe Carmen was. 

Carmy picked up the phone, completely unable to tear his eyes from you. He still couldn’t believe you came back that morning, like that was a sign or something—not that he believed in things like that.

“The Bear. This is Carmen.”

“Ugh, thank god you called back.”

“Is something burning?” You whispered. Carmy furrowed his brows. The quiche!

“I’m sorry, who is this?” He was distracted, rushing to pull his slightly charred quiche Lorraine out of the oven. He covered the receiver, trying to mask your laughter. 

“I spoke to Natalie a couple weeks ago about catering my wedding rehearsal?”

What the hell? Since when did they do  catering? He poked you in the side before running to grab a pen and pad.

“My fiancé loved the pasta course so we were thinking that that could be the main focus, like elevated comfort food.”

“Okay, I made a note of that and will call back to confirm.” He was not going to agree to shit until he talked to Sugar. 

“Oh, don’t you want the date?”

“Uh sure, yeah.”

“It’s in two weeks, on Saturday.”

“And what’s your name?”

“Milly Walker.”

[bob-artist]

Just found you via your funny dream comic. Good stuff 😆. Definitely gonna read the rest, and I was surprised you had your own website. Looks good on mobile too. I’ve got a comic that some friends keep trying to build me a site for but I’ve been telling them no because it seems like between webtoon and social media nobody is interested in personal sites anymore.

Have you noticed an uptick in engagement from your site? Would you recommend going that route? I’d like to hear your thoughts.

I’m also interested in how you decided to build/host it, if that question isn’t too lame.

Anyway, glad I found your comics!

Ah thank you for checking out Into the Smoke's website!!

Oh, I have SO many thoughts about independent webcomic sites and why people should have them. I have so many thoughts, and I'm so so sorry.

Why did I decide to have my own webcomic site?

First of all, this is not a lame question and I wish we could all have this conversation more often, so I could maybe write just a paragraph instead of this whole dissertation!

1. Because I lived through webcomics history.

I launched my first webcomic in 2011. I watched the webcomics scene shift over the years from self-hosted sites to third party sites, and I saw what it meant for independent creators. We lost vital infrastructure, relationships, habits, and control over our own work. I think self-hosted sites are an important backbone for creators, even if/when their largest *numbers* come from a third party site.

We’re all supposed to be helping each other, not fighting each other to satisfy the algorithm. Our early tools (webrings, link trades, comic databases, sharing each other’s posts) were small but meaningful, and they also helped us maintain a community mindset in a long and sometimes lonely line of work. When we started leaning on hosting sites, we let a lot of those tools and relationships decay. And now a lot of people are locked into imbalanced relationships with hosting sites that leave them with very little agency and control over their work and how it’s shared (or isn’t shared).

Hosting sites are great for removing barriers to entry (cost/time to build a site). And a lot of them have large built-in audiences. But the big ones aren’t run by people who care about creators. They’re designed to extract the maximum value from your work while giving you the least they can get away with. Use them if you want (I do), but don't be dependent on them.

2. Comics are the main thing I do for a living, and a website gives me the tools to promote my work and build relationships with my readers.

Most apps and third party sites actively prevent or suppress these things. On your own site, you can share all the info you want about your upcoming Kickstarter, your tradpub book release, your merch, etc. You can collect email addresses for your newsletter. You can literally just talk about your weekend, and you’re not gonna have a 150-character limit.

Yeah, not everyone wants to read a wall of text (ha ha...), but acting like a person reminds readers to treat you like a person. This is one of my main gripes with the apps and social media - they suppress human connection and present you like a cog in their machine that only exists to churn out free content.

3. I have a consistent home base and full control over how my work is displayed.

I don’t have to fight against an app that’s trying to direct my readers toward whichever content is most profitable for them. On an app, the readers “belong” to them, not you. (Who has their email addresses?) So if I'm putting effort into promoting my comic, I'm promoting my own site. (oh look, I just did it.)

Hosting sites/apps aren't designed to showcase your work. They showcase the app’s collection, and they're designed to keep readers on the app, jumping from creator to creator. This can help readers find you, but it also devalues your work and dilutes its impact.

And the app might not show your work to anyone anyway. Tapas is a great example; they recently redesigned their site to prioritize their Originals, and independent creators are hidden away in a “community” tab with barely any discoverability anymore. This is always the struggle on a third party site.

4. I hate censorship.

Into the Smoke is Teen 16/17+ and Demon of the Underground is R/18+. My comics aren’t even explicit, but I still can’t post my true, uncensored vision for either story on third party apps governed by Apple’s App Store and Visa/Mastercard’s tight content restrictions.

If webcomics exist exclusively on apps with heavy censorship, we’ll never have the diversity of storytelling and freedom of expression that’s necessary for groundbreaking or subversive art to happen. And that’s bad for everyone.

Adult brains need to engage with adult concepts. Difficult and triggering topics need to be explored in creative spaces. Artists need freedom to stretch their creative muscles without falling into the damaging patterns of self-censorship that come from having to tiptoe around arbitrary platform rules.

We can’t let the rules of like 3 American companies dictate what every webcomic reader around the world is allowed to read.

5. An independent website can’t easily be taken away from you.

Just make regular backups! You can always move to a new web host and redirect URLs if needed, and you won't lose your readers. On the other hand, you can easily lose the bulk of your audience on a third party site based on circumstances outside your control.

Let’s talk about Smack Jeeves, a formerly popular webcomic hosting site that was bought out and then shut down, leaving lots of cartoonists homeless. Or we can talk about the Tumblr NSFW purge of 2018, where I lost a huge chunk of my first webcomic’s following and most of my webcomic mutuals, even though my own account stayed within the rules. Or Musk buying Twitter, the platform where I once found my literary agent through a publishing event but now get no traction at all.

Have I noticed an uptick in engagement from my site?

I don’t have analytics on my site yet. But, up until a few days ago, that's where people were reading, thanks to my own efforts and the support of my comics friends and all of y’all who shared my ITS posts. (THANK YOU ALL!) I didn't have any discoverability on Webtoon or Tapas yet.

I got 10-15 new patrons between May 25 and June 5. Up until a few days ago, I even had more ITS newsletter subscribers than Webtoon subscribers.

What happened a few days ago is my Webtoon mirror suddenly blew up with 100+ new subs a day. I don’t know where I’m being featured, but I know I’m only getting those readers because Webtoon suddenly chose to grant me visibility. That can end just as instantly with an algorithm tweak or them deciding not to show my comic anymore. (When my first webcomic was in one of their pay programs in 2018, I went from $300 or $400/month to $0 overnight due to a policy change.) So I’ll enjoy it while it lasts, but I won't de-prioritize my website.

The new Webtoon readers are awesome and supportive, and I’m 100% thrilled to have them. But the Webtoon influx isn't resulting in a Patreon influx like my website launch did. I wouldn't expect it to, this early in the story. But it's consistent with my past experience polling my patrons: even when 50% of my readers came from the apps, 90% of patrons read on my website. (Your audience may vary.) And since I depend on crowdfunding for my comic, that's important to me.

Would I recommend going the route of having your own site?

For anyone who’s just testing the waters with webcomics, it might be overkill.

But for anyone who’s committed to their webcomic, I recommend having your own site AND mirroring on every third party site you can, provided you’re cool with their terms of service. It's important to meet readers where they are. Let those hosting sites lend you their readers. Some readers will even want to visit your home site where they can read ahead, read the uncensored version of your comic, get more info, or sign up for your newsletter.

Just remember, no one will discover your independent website all on their own. They’ll only find it through the work you put into promotion. But the reader that cares enough to come to your home site is a special type of reader.

So how do you get readers to visit an independent webcomic site?

Find your allies

These are people who work in similar areas as you who want to help you succeed, and whom you want to help succeed. Chat with each other, help each other, promote each other, boost each other, link to each other (psst, my links page just went live!), be there for each other - behind the scenes and in public.

God, I am SO bad at approaching people, but this is important, and not just for comics.

Be part of a community

Really, this is an extension of the above point. It's easier to find your allies if you're part of a community.

I’m a member of the Cartoonist Cooperative, and they’re a GREAT group of talented people all across the comics industry. The mission of @cartoonistcoop is to help create better conditions for comic workers through cooperation and collective action, and I’ve found so much help from them with Into the Smoke and comics as a whole. (JOIN! They're great!!)

The goal of the co-op isn't to drive traffic to your website. But being part of it has helped me at every level of crafting my comic, including promoting it and making it good enough that I can take pride in promoting it. And it's helped me ground myself as part of a community after I lost so much of mine in past years of burnout and platform enshittification.

Another option: @spiderforestcomics is a great webcomic collective full of supportive creators, and I believe they’re open to submissions till the end of June! They also have an awesome collaborative community mindset, and I've known some of their members for years.

Direct readers to your RSS feed and newsletter

Getting readers to your website is great, but they need to keep coming back for future updates, and it’s hard to remind them without an app notification. You may need to teach younger readers what RSS feeds are. Inoreader is a great RSS reader for the 2024 era.

The dreaded SEO

That’s Search Engine Optimization - optimizing your website so that people can easily find your comic via search engines. That’s a topic for another day, but feel free to research it!

Paid promo

This can be tricky, and I really only recommend spending promo money if you’re making a comic on a professional basis, because then it’s an investment you'll make back.

That said, Comicad.net is a great independent site where you can buy banner slots on other creators’ sites. I just ran small campaign myself. (And no, I won’t ever be offended if you outbid me!)

I haven’t bought any Tumblr Blaze slots, but I got BOPPed (blaze other people’s posts; apparently that’s what it’s called, lol) once on this account and once on a side blog, and both were highly impactful. (Thanks, friend!!) So I consider it a solid option, and it looks really cheap compared to other social media sites. (Never trust Meta.)

And where can you learn more about building a webcomic site?

I know you didn't ask, but if I'm gonna share all this, I might as well give folks a starting place to actually do the thing.

Now, I’m *bad* at offering cheap and easy web solutions. My specialty is hard and expensive. But my one piece of advice: PLEASE make your webcomic site mobile friendly for the current generation of readers! When we talk about barriers to entry, remember that more people have phones than computers, and many can't afford computers.

Anyway, here's some webcomic website resources from OTHER people!

The Cartoonist Co-op has LOTS of great resources on building webcomic sites! Several of them! Check them all out!

@screentonescast has a podcast episode on webcomic web design and one on RSS feeds!

@jeypawlik also has a great comic about how RSS feeds work.

So, congrats if you made it this far. Go make a website, y'all! And if you read any indie comics, go visit the creator's website!

[rotthepoet]

Theodore Nott and The Late Night Smoke Breaks

or, The time Theodore Nott realized he fucked up.

Theodore Nott x gn!Reader

Content: Modern AU, Language, No use of Y/N, drug use/smoking in order to cope(Nicotine/Weed), angstish to fluffish, Theo has daddy issues, a jealous Theo is a sad Theo, they make up in the end. Not my best work by a long shot, and I hate it actually, but stories are stories and I want to put mine out there.

The breeze high above Hogwarts was cold and Theodore Nott, a seventh year nicotine fiend draped in green to honor his prideful house, sat on the balcony of the astronomy tower. The castle stone pressed against his back, digging past the thick sweater he wore and into his shoulder blades. Theo didn’t bother to adjust himself, just opting to fumble with the joint between his fingers. His third of the night to be precise, but no amount of smoke in his lungs and fog in his mind could undo what he had done mere hours ago.

A simple question. That’s all it had to be. That was all it was supposed to be. Just a quick question to quell the burning anxiety in his stomach. Just a friendly question. Of course that wasn’t how it played out. He was never quite able to communicate with you.

Theodore’s fingers itched towards his phone, and he cursed under his breath. A glimpse of twelve new messages did nothing to ease the licking flames of guilt burning in his chest. He had really fucked up this time.

Perhaps he was higher than he had initially thought as he picked up his phone, allowing muscle memory to unlock the screen and let him view his missed messages. Although, missed isn’t the right word. ‘Avoided’ might be more fitting in Theo’s circumstance. Long paragraphs blurred together, simple phrases like “wtf is wrong with you?” and “you do this every time Theodore!” Stuck to his mind like flies in a glue trap; or maybe a rabbit in the jaw of a wolf. You were the wolf, weren’t you? Or had he been the predator the whole time?

He had his father’s tongue, this fact was quite familiar to Theo, who spat vile words and insults in fits of rage before he could fully process what he was saying. It often led to physical altercations, bloody knuckles and bruised eyes. He hated the way you looked at him afterwards. Ashamed. Embarrassed. Disappointed.

He sent the text without even thinking, the burning anxiety twisting in his stomach. “K” was all he sent. All he could manage. He shut his eyes, cursing himself aloud. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t just avoid you. It hurt.

One missed call. Two, then three.

One new voicemail.

Curiosity- more-so an intense desire to hear your voice- clawed at his mind, and with a simple press of his fingers he closed his eyes and listened to your words. Angry or not, he missed the way you talked. He missed you.

“You can’t keep doing this, Theo!”

Guilt twisted at his stomach. You sounded like you had been crying, your voice raw and cracking.

“You keep shutting me out, you get so angry when I tell you about any of my friends, or any of my plans! You ask, I answer, and then you lose it. Every single time. You threatened to beat the shit out of that Gryffindor after they asked me to help them study-“

Untrue. He threatened to beat the shit out of that Gryffindor after they obviously hit on you.

“-then you claim that I’m ignoring you- or that I take your friendship for granted! You talk to me like your friendship is some privilege I don’t deserve. You just… You dangle it over my head like it’s a prize! I don’t understand why you’re so mad at me. I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Your voice cracked. It made his own heart shatter. He hated it when you cried. He hated the long breath you took to steady yourself. He hated that he wasn’t brave enough to look you in the eyes and tell you he was-

“Draco said you stepped out for a smoke. You’re always avoiding conversations like this.”

You stopped talking for a moment, letting the microphone pick up your soft breathing and light footsteps.

“I can’t keep doing this Theodore, I can’t be your friend if you just keep treating me like this. I don’t know what to do to make you feel better.”

The voicemail ended, and Theo wished the stone of Hogwarts would fall upon his head and crush him. Tears welled in his eyes, and it took more than a minute to will them away. He stood, slowly and shakily. He fucked up. He couldn’t lose you, not like this, not now.

His feet carried him without a second thought, breaking into a sprint down the darkened hallways of Hogwarts. He raced down and up stairs, listening to the annoyed groans of paintings he disturbed. He didn’t even bother to avoid the ghosts patrolling the halls, sure to rat him out. He’d take a year’s worth of detention just to have a moment with you.

He was at your door in mere minutes, fist rapping against the heavy wood of your dorm room.

It wasn’t you who answered, but your roommate instead. Their “Can I help you?” was ignored, and their body was shoved out of the way and out of the door. He slammed the door behind him.

Your eyes met his. They were sad, red and puffy. He reached for your face, and you pulled away. The nerve pulsating through his veins dissipated. He fucked up majorly.

“You shouldn’t be here, Theodore.”

“Not Theodore… please. Just let me talk to you.”

You shook your head, but ultimately scooted over in bed and allowing Theo the space to sit down. He looked at you, desperate to see your face, to fix his mistake. You didn’t look back again him, instead picking at the dead skin around your nails.

Theo’s heart raced faster as he inched his hand towards yours. He couldn’t formulate the words. This was all wrong. He wasn’t supposed to tell you like this, not when you were crying. Not when you were angry at him.

“You’re my everything.”

“Are you serious?” Your eyes blew wide with rage. “You tell me that I’m a waste of time, then avoid me, and you come in here to tell me that I’m ‘your everything’? Have you lost your mind?”

Theo had in fact lost his mind. Everything he said made it worse. Every move he made caused an avalanche of consequences.

“I can’t lose you.”

“Why? So you can yell at me to feel good about yourself? Do I fuel your ego, Theo? Do I make you feel special? Is that all I am? Just here to make the ‘oh high-and-mighty Theodore Nott’ feel powerful.”

He gripped the loose fabric of his pants. He couldn’t do this anymore. He lost his nerve.

“No…”

“Then what am I to you Theo? Am I a friend because it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it. You make me feel like-“

Theodore didn’t let you finish your sentence. His lips pressed against yours in the blink of an eye, and while he closed his eyes, yours stayed wide open in shock.

Theo moved one hand to your cheek, barely letting the skin touch. You could feel him shaking. You could feel the heat radiating off of his cheeks. You could taste the cigarettes on his lips and the smell of pot was overwhelming.

He pulled away, opening his eyes, watching your face. His heart sunk when you wiped your mouth, declining to speak.

“I need you.” He whispered, voice cracking with the words. “I’m sorry. I was so…” he couldn’t even find the right words. “I just needed you to be mine.”

You stared at Theodore. A blush crept up to your cheeks, and the rage boiling inside of you slowed to a simmer.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Theo gripped your hand, “I wanted to- I just couldn’t…” he paused, “I just couldn’t find the right way to say it.”

“So you threatened to beat up everyone who talked to me?”

“Only the one’s who were interested in you.”

A small laugh left your lips, and it made Theo’s heart swell.

“I’m still angry at you.”

“How can I make it better?”

You thought for just a moment, the blush pushing up to your ears. “You could start by asking me out.”

“Will you go out with me?”

“Maybe.”

And that was all Theodore needed to hear.