#i just love when you can see heart and soul and passion positively bleeding through a piece of work. AAAGHH...

[decamarks]

i bought ultrakill forever ago but never got around to playing it. what is the deal why has it spawned such a dedicated fanbase. you seem like you'd know....

IT'S JUST REALLY GODDAMN FUN!!! that's the short answer and honestly the best answer. it's really ridiculously fun. like probably one of the most fun games to ever exist.

there is a ridiculous amount of care and skill and soul packed into every design choice; it culminates in some of the most immaculately ecstatic and visceral gameplay i've ever experienced. it cannot be understated how brilliant this game's design is. the only way to really understand why it excels is to just play it!

if you'd like an anecdote to represent the overall ultrakill experience, here's mine: when i played the demo for the first time, after maybe 5 minutes i became so physically nauseous that i had to stop. and in that time i immediately went to get the full game. it's DELIGHTFUL. (see also: jerma's playthrough where he starts screaming "humans aren't supposed to be doing this" during a boss fight.)

but even aside from pure gameplay, there really is a lot to love… there's a certain self-aware sincerity to everything. it's unabashed on purpose, and in the best ways possible. despite its obviously absurd violence, don't at all mistake ultrakill for something cynical or misanthropic—there's a lot of depth and heart dancing beneath the surface, a lot of it in places i didn't expect to see it, and so much that i didn't expect to appreciate nearly as much as i do.

[okay this got too long. the rest is going DOWN HERE ↓]

like okay, obviously the music is just. insane. the goddamn midi metal/breakcore genre fusion is THE most hilarious and unfathomably genius stylistic choice that could have been made. and it's not even just that!! there's ambient & drone & harsh noise influence all across the ost, which just enchants and delights me. i DEFINITELY didn't expect it, but i love it. (the fact that there's like, a level named after a sunn o))) song, and that the latest update contains a godawful joke about trout mask replica might tell you exactly what kind of game ultrakill is, or it might tell you literally nothing.)

the writing and worldbuilding can be rich and compassionate in ways i really didn't expect, too... it's so evident that it's a work of passion, with really sincere and often sweet philosophies sprinkled throughout all the bloodshed and grotesque silliness—and often within them. it makes me smile! also gabriel is a really good character. people go apeshit over that guy. for good reason. he's just REALLY good.

if you're just interested in understanding its amassed fanbase, yeah ultrakill's is pretty ridiculous and dedicated. and it's extremely deserved! the game is fun & the characters are fun. being in early access, it's kinda built on ongoing feedback, so it makes sense people are invested. the devs really seem to embrace the fanbase wholeheartedly, which helps a lot too. that is also why, kind of inexplicably, ultrakill is kind of a gay & horny game. please note that i do not say these things flippantly or lacking deliberation; there's an extremely good essay to be written about gayness across ultrakill & its communities. like aside from the general hilarity of a game having official buttplug support, the fact that the dev team hired an artist specifically because he drew a lot of incredibly beautiful/obscene depictions of gabriel DOES say a lot. this, of course, makes ultrakill 100x better.

anyway that's the basics. i could definitely write THOUSANDS of words about this game and that's honestly... not what i expected when i booted it up the first time LOL. it really just happened to appeal to a lot of things i sincerely adore, in an unexpectedly sincere way—all while being a STUPIDLY good game.

TL;DR: it's a fun robot video game where you shoot things. and there's blood and explosions. it's good you should play it

[shark-gummies]

a little vent/rant abt how I feel

Tw for sexism, internalized misogyny, descriptions of the female body and male body, periods, pregnancy and childbirth, catcalling/sexualization, along with a lot of language and general self-hate :p

pls your mental health is more important so pls don’t read unless you’re in a safe place to do so

i genuinely hate being a woman. I have never found really anything good about being one.

Females bodies are inherently flawed in one of our most basic functions.

periods-

we always have bled. From our loins to our hearts, to our broken bodies throughout history. Our mother, Mother Nature decided we should bleed for men’s sins.

The costly price of creating life. The price of godhood and girlhood.

I despise my period. For males do not know the pain of going through one. The sickening smell of sweet blood, the horrible feeling of it smeared on my thighs and dripping out. It’s a horrible sensory experience. Then cultivated on top of that is the other various symptoms I have dealt with over the years. The most prominent of that was nausea.

I don’t like throwing up. I used to do it a lot as a child, I was very anxious and an overwhelmed soul. To the point where I was sick to my stomach and bile managed to get to my throat. 

Then I often feel sore. My muscles ache and stretch, bones feeling like they’re contracted under pressure. Like I was thrown around and manhandled. I stretch, or at least try to, and it does not work. For this sore is to the bone. The muscles of someone who carried such a burden as I do. 

Then comes the mood swings. I feel horrible for snapping, but i can not control it for everyone around me is too loud. My hormones go wild, depleting what little energy a teenage girl already has. And were expected to shut up, sit down, and be this quiet docile creature while my body tried to evict the remains of what could’ve been a child. I can be angry, i don’t need permission. I bleed so much, and I can’t even say that. 

Society has silenced something that makes me a woman, society downplays women in most ways like that. “Be submissive to your husbands”, “always give never take or youll be selfish”, “his pleasure is greater than your own”, “cook for him”, “clean for him”, “you’re too loud”, “why can’t you just be quiet”, “that’s gross”, “why are you so bossy?”. Taking away our pathway from girl to goddess, taking away the cost of creating a life. That is the truth, I am punished for not having children, but punished when I do.

Why were we created this way?

How do I not feel punished? How do I stare at the blood with a smile and nourish my body and let myself rest? When will others finally understand why it happens, what I need? That it’ll be okay to talk about? When?

————————————————————————

The porn industry. Selling sex to the masses. It’s always had it’s issues, and i’ve seen what it does.

The women, beaten and bruised. Used and fucked dumb by their abusers. Quite violent words for a young girl to use, but it’s true. I sometimes wonder if the men around me see me like that. 

I’ve noticed that some do.

The way their eyes ogle downwards. Even if i’m in a position of power against them. Lingering touches and lewd whispers. Dehumanizing things really.

Is this how men see women?

When you look at me, what do you see? Do you notice my eyes first, blue like the skies with endless energy and passion? Or maybe my hair, chestnut and golden in the sun? My skin, pale as soft winter snow. Fresh faced and flushed. Or do you see my body? Notice my chest and hips, the slope of my waist? Is that what you care about?

Do you nitpick my body. Wondering what it would look like if you could change it? Or do you compare it to the abused male-gazed women on your screen? Do you wonder what it would feel like to use me?

Do you?

Be honest with yourself, as a man reading this. Can you see me pass the street, with a twirl of my dress and a melodic laugh and see me with admiration? Love? Or lust?

I hate being a female. Knowing that I can just be reduced to something not human. That I can be and be perceived as the woman your fathers, brothers, and sons buy. As something to use, an object instead of something with a life. Something with a soul and a brilliant mind. That I could be easiy groomed to show off my body to feel beautiful.

That I could be groomed to see violence as love.

I almost was.

It feels like everything “good” about being a woman is flawed or even just what’s good about being a human.

women are going to be weaker than most men. It makes me scared, makes me feel weak, inferior, and stupid.

men will never understand the feeling that you get when you get followed at night. Whenever someone won’t listen to your argument just because you’re a woman.

I hate it.

what’s good about being a woman?

[hourglass-dreams]

What your favorite song from Encanto says about you (AKA, what musical number broke your soul the most)

The Family Madrigal: If this is your favorite, you are probably the funnest person to be around. You are so passionate about the people and things you love and I adore that about you. You’re the kind of person to give your friends tours, share memories and stories about your family even when they didn’t ask for it. On the flip side, you often ignore your own problems because you feel inadequate. When anyone asks about you personally, you avoid the topic entirely and hide behind your upbeat demeanor. Remember, you are valid and it’s okay to share details about who YOU are.

Colombia, Mi Encanto: You are extremely passionate about where you come from and I adore that. Like the first one, you are super fun to be around and you just bleed positivity and light.

Waiting On A Miracle: First of all, I relate to you on a personal level. You’re often the outcast and feel left out of things that mean a lot to you. You don’t see your own potential or you feel as though nobody else does. You’ve always been underestimated and undermined so much that you have reached your breaking point. You try your best all of the time but no one appreciates it, and you’re sick of feeling useless because of it. You deserve love and appreciation just like everyone else. Let your voice be heard, you have so much to say and I’m sure the things that you express would help a lot of people including yourself. 

Surface Pressure: You need a hug, seriously. Like Luisa, you carry the world upon your shoulders and you put your entire soul into not showing any sign of being crushed by it. You work so hard for everyone else that you often forget about yourself, and your own limits. Even though you don’t express it, you wish that you could escape the expectations of reality and take a break so you don’t crumble. You feel like your worth is directly tied to what you can do for others rather than who you are as a person. You are a human, you deserve a break and relaxation. Let people help you as much as you help them, that doesn’t make you weak. Let the crushing weight gradually lay off you, I know it’s scary but trust me it is worth it. 

We Don’t Talk About Bruno: There are three possibilities for this. If this is your favorite, you probably just love the ordered chaos of this song and no matter how popular it is, you will always adore the song for what it is. The other option is, you know what it’s like to point fingers at people and not take accountability (This doesn’t make you a bad person, this just isn’t a good way to deal with your issues.). Now if this was the song that broke you, I am giving my heart to you. You know what it’s like to be the black sheep and to be blamed for everyone else’s problems. People have associated you with trouble and misfortune (or it seems that way), you feel completely demonized even when you haven’t done anything. You’re the person people talk about behind your back and it hurts so much that you isolate. Remember that even though it doesn’t feel like it, you are loved and respectable. Your mistakes don’t define you and you do not need to apologize for existing. 

What Else Can I Do?: Again, I relate to you a lot. You’ve spent your entire life being someone other than yourself in order to make everyone else happy and comfortable. You have a specific role to play though it is exhausting and unfulfilling for you, as long as the people around you are happy it’s okay. You desperately want to take control over your own life and live the way YOU want. You’re tired of feeling trapped and you deserve to break free from the mold that holds you captive. You deserve to let your guard down, make mistakes and be who you want to be. You don’t need to be perfect, imperfection is beautiful. 

Dos Oruguitas: You have such a big heart and it’s been ripped out of your body time and time again. When you fall in love, you fall hard and hold on tight so it can’t escape from you. You have been through so much pain and lost something that meant the world to you and it’s caused you to have a harsh grasp on what is currently in your life so it will never happen again. Though it is hard and it takes time, it’s okay to let go and allow yourself to heal and grow. 

All Of You: You are such a sweetheart first of all. Second, you’re the kind of person that helps bring everyone together. You are the person that people can go to when they need help. You have also reached a point where you are content with who you are along with others in your life. I applaud you for that!

[ekaterinatepes]

Nothing but the Best

Author Notes: hello again my loves! Thank you for all your likes, reviews and specially your comments! I love it when you make questions and in general let me know what you think about the chapter. Thank you once more for all your support!

XII.

They say time heals all wounds, but there are some wounds that run so deep they refuse to stop bleeding.

https://youtu.be/s1tAYmMjLdY

A cold September afternoon welcomed the dying rays of the sun, the incandescent amber tones of the twilight illuminated the streets of Tokyo, ever so vibrant; full of life, people, delicious food, kaleidoscopic colors, laughter, children running…. Couples holding hands.

A tall man with a blindfold walked down a heavily transited sidewalk with his hands in his pockets and a small bag of pastries hanging off the side. Slowly, he made his way further away from the more concentric streets towards a park, he found a bench near a fountain and took a seat placing his bag right next to him.

The world remained the same and yet everything seemed to have changed, the days were now long and boring, conversations with people didn’t manage to hold his attention for long; missions were repetitive. Everything seemed… dull, opaque, flavorless, empty…

Everything, except perhaps his students who were the only sliver of hope he had left. Those kids would make it far in life, they were going to change the world and he was going to be there to help them along the way. A sad smile pulls at his peachy lips. You would have liked that. After all, the kids also enjoyed your company back in the day when you were still his. It was as if you had become their adoptive mother of sorts at some point. Your nurturing nature guided you to care for others.

A year ago when Yuuji was placed under his care and tutelage at Jujutsu High it had been hard for the boy. At the time the kid had just lost his only living relative and to top it off he also consumed the most powerful curse ever known to man kind.

He had so much responsibility on his shoulders Satoru couldn’t help but make the connection with himself when he was a kid his age. That’s how Satoru decided to take him home for dinner one night; he couldn’t have been more pleased with his decision. Of course, you adored Yuuji. His sweet snd enthusiastic personality, his polite manners and naiveté made him just endearing in your eyes.

Even Megumi, who barely spoke with his more taciturn approach asked about you. Satoru didn’t know how to answer. The dark haired boy would also come and visit your home to help you prepare some foreign delicacies you loved to cook. Sighing once more he ran his hands through his white hair.

***-Flashback-***

“So where’s Y/N-san? I haven’t seen her in a long time?” Asked Megumi right after Satoru returned from New York. It caught him by surprise

“She… she doesn’t live in Japan anymore” was all he said before changing the subject. Megumi looked at him with eyes wide open but decided not to pry.

Yeah… that probably was weird. Someone asks you about your spouse and you say they moved out of the country. It was pretty obvious what that meant.

***~End Flash Back~***

Sighing he opened the small paper bag containing his mochi, he loved his desert but lately he didn’t even have the will to indulge in sweets anymore. Satoru consumed insane amounts of sugar to stimulate his brain. The problem was that during the past year all that stimulation manifested in the form of vivid memories of you. Your voice, your smell, your presence. It was as if his brain chose to take him down the path to misery, as if to rub on his face what he could never have.

As of last week you were officially not Y/N Gojo anymore. He finally signed those blasted papers giving you your freedom and his capitulation.

It had been one of the worst days of his life.

After signing the divorce Satoru went straight to the liquor store where he found that exotic apricot liquor he liked in New York and bought a bottle. Once he made it back home he proceeded to get drunk out of his mind. The next morning he woke up by the pool, laying down on a tanning chair, wearing only a pair of boxers and hugging your wedding picture.

His head was killing him, at some point he had emptied his insides in the pool. A disgusted grimace reminded him he had to hire some help to take care of the house that was an absolute disaster, faithfully reflecting the state of its owner.

That morning, nursing a hangover he swore off alcohol for the rest of his life.

But hey! On the positive side he didn’t remember at all that night! Which means he ‘probably’ didn’t think about you (yeah right! As if he was ever not thinking about you) and how much he hated the fact you were not his Y/N Gojo anymore. You were not his wife anymore…

The memory made him want to cry like a baby. He lost the person he loved the most in his life because he had been one flaming idiot.

Despite all his efforts he could not forget you. Wherever he went, whatever he did… there you were, tormenting his waking and sleeping hours like his own personal curse.

He tried to get over you. He tried to be the asshole you knew him to be. He slept with so many women he couldn’t even count. But at the end of the night, in the throes of passion it was your face that he saw, your body that he craved, your flavor that he yearned and your name the one he called out when he climaxed.

He was absolutely fucked.

Revisiting memories of the last night he saw you he couldn’t believe how stupid he had been at the time. It took him so long to realize he had always been in love with you but Satoru, being well… himself, he didn’t want to see or admit that he had been head over heels, madly in love with you. He was a cynical bastard and that had cost him dearly. He chose to lie to himself thinking that THE Gojo Satoru was above all human weaknesses… including love. What an ignorant fucker he had been.

He wondered how you were doing and if you ever thought about him.

A frown made his handsome face look stern. Well… you were not alone anymore. Suguru also had stayed back in New York with you. After Satoru returned to Japan, Ijichi told him Geto Suguru wouldn’t be working out of Japan anymore. He had requested a transfer to the Americas.

Of course he did…

It had been one of the reasons Satoru fucked so many women. In his delusional mind he was ‘getting even’ with you for sleeping with Suguru. Not that he knew for a fact you were sleeping with him or not but… I mean….

Come on! It’s mother fucking Geto Suguru we are talking about here! 6’2 of pure sculpted muscles, tattoos and bad boy looks but with a Prince Charming complex. Yeah… Satoru was green with jealousy because he knew his former best friend was a better man for you than he ever was.

Looking down at his mochi bag he realized the small item had paid the price of his anger as he uncurled his death grip from the bag. Sighing he tossed the ruined pastry in the trash can to his left.

“Miss you….” He whispered to the wind.

———–

“I’m home!” You announced walking into your apartment. Setting you bag down as well as a couple of grocery bags “did you start dinner already?” You ask pleasantly surprised although you already knew the answer to that question since all the apartment smelled fantastic. Suguru walked out of the kitchen with a big smile wearing an apron that read ‘Kiss the Cheff’ nods “yes! I figured I would give you a hand tonight!” He answered as you walked to him to wrap your arms around his waist and give him a chaste kiss on his cheek “thank you Sugu. How was your mission?” You asked deciding to set up the table while Suguru finished dinner. “Not too bad actually, it was a special grade but nothing I couldn’t deal with” you returned a bright smile “I’m glad”

Your friendship with Suguru had slowly evolved into something else. You both spent all of your free time together. Your connection was deeper than mere sexual attraction. Suguru truly understood you, cared for you, shared your dreams and hopes. He was the type of poetic soul who would stay awake with you well into the night just to talk about the stars, the book you read that week that you loved, the new music you liked. It was wholesome.

On the more carnal side you desired Suguru and he desired you but you hadn’t taken what was going on between you two further than a few passionate make-out sessions and some cuddling.

After you last saw Satoru everything became worse before it got better. Suguru had been your rock, he had been there for the sleepless nights you spent crying. Without a word he held you in his strong arms and allowed you to let go. He knew you were deeply wounded, your emotions in disarray and your mental stability in peril. But Suguru never asked anything from you, he gave you the strength to go on. To take care of yourself, to keep going with your career. To have… hope.

It seemed like a dream to think that your life had changed so much in the span of a year. You weren’t able to recognise yourself anymore. Pain and duress molded you into someone new, better, more resilient, harder to hurt.

At this point, the only person you fully trusted was Suguru, he was always honest with you, no matter what happened or how much something hurt, he always remained true to himself and to you.

It was impossible not to love someone like him. He was the whole package.

Suguru was handsome, that was indisputable. But Geto was more than a pretty face. He was kind, truly kind! He did things out of the goodness of his heart, not because he expected anything in return. He was honest, Suguru Geto would never lie to you and THAT is what you loved the most about him.

He was patient.

He wanted you to be his but at the same time Suguru wanted you to heal, to have the chance to trust and love again, not as a means to forget about Satoru but because you wanted to choose a new path for yourself.

After diner you helped with the dishes and then settled on the couch. Suguru joined with a smile and two glasses of wine. He handed you one and sipped on the other one “what would you like to watch tonight Kitten?” He asked sitting next to you while picking a movie from the titles available on the screen of the tv.

“Anything you like! It’s your turn to pick” you said with a smile, leaning your head on his shoulder making Suguru smile. These tender displays of affection always made him feel so warm. Passing an arm around your shoulders he kissed your forehead.

You look up into his hazel eyes you blush. Suguru didn’t lose a second before he closed the space between your lips. The kiss was soft but meaningful, you didn’t hesitate to return it; wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to then climb on his lap straddling his hips.

The handsome sorcerer leans back, relaxing and running his hands slowly up and down your naked thighs covered only by the small fabric of your shorts, he strokes them softly leaving a path of warmth in the wake of his touch. Suguru deepened the kiss. His tongue delved in your mouth, slowly inviting yours to join the delicious dance. After a few minutes you pulled back, you are breathless. Your heart beats fast and the adrenaline was making you dizzy in anticipation.

Suguru looks at you, leaning his forehead against yours “I missed you” he ads before engulfing you in another passionate kiss, not even giving you the chance to reply. This time his lips are more demanding, his teeth nibbling your lower lip, requesting entrance. His tongue still tastes like the wine and you recognize his addictive flavor. Suddenly you find yourself laying on your back on the white couch, Suguru is on top of you and your legs are wrapped around his waist. Things are getting much more heated than you anticipated. Your hands roam the expanse of his back over hard muscles and warm skin covered only by the thin layer of his t-shirt. You know if you keep going this way you won’t be able to stop.

https://youtu.be/yBatuRGZAmA

A part of you doesn’t want this to end, you want to go all the way with Suguru. But… as much as you hate it, there is a tiny part of you that feels ambivalent about it. You wonder why is that you can’t just… do it!? You want Suguru! God! You desire him more than you can express with words, the growing wetness between your legs is evidence that you indeed were very much sexually attracted to him and yet your mind kept torturing you.

It was… complicated.

Your marriage with Satoru have been over longer than that piece of paper you got last week said. But erasing your feelings wasn’t something you could ever hope to do.

As much as you wanted to give yourself to Suguru it felt wrong that you were holding a part of yourself back. You wanted to give him everything, he deserved EVERYTHING of you. It wouldn’t be fair to just have sex with him when he deserved to be made love to.

You love Suguru, everyday that goes by your feelings for him grow and intensify, it was hard to even understand why would you hesitate and yet you did.

Your passionate kiss slowly becomes more tender until you are just sharing small pecks. Suguru pulls back with a little comforting smile; he felt the change in your body language, he knew what was going through your mind. You explained it to him before and he didn’t want to push you. He knew you needed to go at your own pace and he respected that.

“I’m… so-“ you starts apologetically but Suguru stops you with a little kiss “don’t… don’t apologize, I know baby…” he said reassuringly. Sealing his tender words with a kiss. When you separate again he asks “Alright little kitten, tell me… what’s it gonna be? ‘Dorian Grey’ or ‘Only Lovers Left Alive’?” Pulling you in his strong arms he cuddled with you on the couch, returning to the choices for movie you had.

You were so thankful for this man in your life “let’s go with ‘Only Lovers left Alive’”

With a last kiss he started the movie and pulled a blanket over you both.

He could wait, he would wait till the end of time. For you.

———-> Chapter 13/Part 1

Tags:

@sleepyamaya

@cloudsinthecosmos

@jxvajxy

@satoruhooraaa

@my-reality-is-in-my-head

@dok-ja

@jscarlet06

@fiona782

@thatsharklovingwoman

@heichoustheoryofcleanliness

@syynnaaah

@shaylove418

@coldvillainess

@vampgguk

@sukuna1stwife

@tampon-earrings

@actualdeemon

[ikeromantic]

Piano Lessons

An ObeyMe! Lucifer fic, approx. 1800 words. G/N MC, Fluff.

The infernal grand piano squatted in one shadowed corner of the music room. To any human, at first glance it looked no different from the version in the human world. A dangerous assumption, you knew. If an easy one to make. This instrument was capable of compositions that would drive a mortal listener mad, or even cause death.

You thought that would be reason enough to be given a pass on your Devilish Music I, but Lucifer didn’t agree. In fact, he considered your ignorance of the instrument and its compositions an opportunity. And that was how you found yourself in the House of Lamentation’s music room every afternoon when RAD let out.

Lucifer was already waiting on the bench. He looked up as you came in, lips compressed in an expression of near-constant disapproval. “You’re late.”

“I’m on time!” You glanced at the clock on the wall.

“If you aren’t five minutes early, that counts as late. Now come here and sit next to me.”

Arguing with Lucifer was futile. Besides, you did want to sit next to him. During your time in the Devildom, you’d developed a bit of a crush on the eldest brother. One that had you working hard to be on the receiving end of his rare smiles and sparse compliments.

Today you were hoping to impress Luci with your rendition from Certovski, Faust’s Mistake. It was one of the mortal-safe pieces you could attempt without risking your mind or your soul.

“Fingers on the keys.” Lucifer’s red eyes followed your hands as you tried for the appropriate position. “Elbows out. Move your left hand in.”

You did as instructed, but apparently you were still off. He reached for your hands, positioning them. Part of you wanted to fight him on it. The rest of you just enjoyed the feel of his hands on yours. His skin was always so warm and smooth.

He frowned. “Focus.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled. With your hands in place, you ran through the demonic scale. Some of the tones were too low or too high to hear. You could feel them though, shivering your bones and raising the hairs at the back of your neck.

Your warm-up didn’t get any objection from the Prince of Pride, which meant you were doing well. A quick glance showed he wasn’t frowning any more. Good.

Lucifer stood and began to pace behind you. “What are you going to play for me?”

“I’ve been practicing Faust’s Mistake.” As if he didn’t know.

“Then begin.”

You take a breath. This is it. You try to psych yourself up. All that practice will pay off. All those evenings you gave up gaming with Levi and Mammon, the weekends you stayed in instead of going out with Satan or Asmo. You could play this in your sleep.

Your hands float across the keys, the melody pouring from the hidden strings, describing the terrible bargain Faust made. The fast, tripping notes gave way to the long, slow sounds of regret, and finally, to the clashing finish.

Sweat beaded your forehead as you lowered your hands to your lap. The tension in your chest stopped your breath as you waited for Lucifer’s judgement.

“That was . . . not bad.”

From anyone else, you’d take this as a criticism but from Luci? It was a gold star. You smiled over your shoulder at him.

The left corner of his lip turned up in a slight half smile. “I’m impressed you memorized the whole piece in such a short time. I can tell you’ve worked hard.”

You felt like if he gave you one more compliment, you might completely melt.

“But -”

Your heart sank.

“I didn’t feel the tension, the passion of the moment in your rendition. You were too focused on technical mastery.” Lucifer sat down beside you, his hip brushing yours. “The Faustian epic is classic. It must evoke the emotion of the moment, the story, that birthed it. Let me show you what I mean.”

His hands went to the keys. “This is from earlier in the story. The Fall.” He began playing in a low octave, a heavy, slow rhythm that made your heart pound. Or perhaps that was just from sitting so close to him.

Lucifer kept that going as he began to layer higher, lighter notes atop it. These sounded almost playful, innocent. If not for the ominous beat beneath it. “Here we have naivete. The mortal at play, unaware of the trap laid for him.”

You nod.

“The music is the story, the story lives in the music. Now -” The lighter notes began to slow, creeping closer to the lower octave. “The mortal becomes aware of the nearness of death. The lingering, slow demise that comes to all men.”

Your breath slows in time to the music, and you can almost feel the weight of your years, few though they are. It is as if you lived a century and now your bones are heavy and your body is weary. Your eyelids drift half closed.

Lucifer continues to play, the ominous chords grow louder and the higher tones fade until both melodies close in on each other.

There is a subaudible component now, and though you can’t hear it, you can feel it move with the pulse of your blood. An arrhythmia that pulls you into the moment. The music surges beneath your eyelids, a spiral of red across a dark abyss. A false light.

“Here Faust decides his soul is worth less than his earthly pleasures, and denies Death its due. You can hear the strains of rage from Death’s denial beside the demon’s triumph. And there, Faust’s -”

The music stops but you can still feel it inside you. Something slick and warm slides down your cheek.

Lucifer’s voice, demanding. Trembling. “Wake up. Open your eyes this instant.”

You wish you could obey. You’d like to but the music holds you where you are. Limbo. A space bereft of everything but the music. Death and the demon, Faust’s lust and greed.

“Please.” Lucifer’s voice is gentler than you’ve ever heard it before.

You feel the pad of his thumb against your cheek. A sudden burst of magic like static on a distant radio. Then silence. Your mind slips under a dark, quiet ocean.

The water is warm. Peaceful. You can feel it cradling you. Stroking your hair, your cheeks. The touches become more insistent. Pushing you toward the surface. Toward wakefulness.

“I am sorry. Please. If you open your eyes, I will do . . . I will do anything, anything you want. I won’t make you practice anymore. I’ll give you a - a bigger room.”

The voice belongs to Lucifer, you’re sure of it. But it doesn’t sound like him. When has he ever pleaded, begged, for anything? You realize it is his hands on your skin, stroking your arms, your face. Then it hits you. The music. It wasn’t safe for your mind and now . . . was this real?

You open your eyes.

Lucifer’s face is the first thing you see. He is so close, you can feel his breath on your cheek. His eyes are wide and damp, and full of concern. You are held tight against him, like a child.

“Can you hear me? See me?” His fingertip slides along your jawline, a delicate touch.

“Yes.” Your voice comes out throaty and low. Rough as if you’d been screaming.

His relief is palpable. He squeezes you tighter, pressing your face to his chest. “I . . . I apologize. I got carried away with the music. And you’ve taken injury because of it - because of me.”

The words are halting, stiff. Hard for the proud eldest to say, and yet, for you, he does. “It’s okay,” you croak. “It was beautiful.” And it’s true. Some remnant of the cursed melodies still echo in the chambers of your heart. Haunting you with a promise that has no words.

“I will see you are fully recovered.” The briskness returns to Lucifer’s voice.

You try to push yourself up, off his chest. He doesn’t loosen his hold on you.

“Stop struggling. Are you uncomfortable?” Lucifer adjusts his grip, sliding your head to the crook of his arm. “Is that better?”

It isn’t, really. But at least you can see you aren’t in the music room anymore. Lucifer must have carried you to his chambers. He must have been worried, but you don’t know why. You feel alright. You try to sit up again.

With an exasperated look, Lucifer partially lifts you. He doesn’t release you. “Didn’t I say to stop struggling? You need to relax until you are . . . repaired.”

“I feel fine,” you tell him.

He frowns. “You are still bleeding from your ears.”

You lift a hand to the side of your head. It comes away red and wet. “Oh.”

“It will take a few days for the effects to wear off.” The concern in his scarlet gaze frightens you more than the blood.

“Will I be ok?”

“Mostly.” He looks away. “Until then, I will keep you here and see to your needs. Are you hungry? Thirsty? Does anything hurt?”

You shake your head. This, you discovered, was a mistake. The shadows of the room move with your vision, growing one direction and then the other. Wide swaths of darkness that catch your eye.

“Are you seeing things?” Lucifer looks back at you. His thumb caresses your cheek.

“N-no.”

“Rather, tell me what you are seeing. And don’t lie about it a second time.”

There is a flicker of warning in the crimson depths of his gaze. You tell him about the shadows, and the way the music still sings in you.

He frowns. “If the effects do not fade, I may have to keep you in my rooms forever.”

You note that he doesn’t sound annoyed at this prospect. But he didn’t ask you, and his assumptions don’t sit well. “You can’t lock me up, Lucifer.”

“I can.”

Wrong tactic to take. You amend. “It probably isn’t a good idea to burden yourself with caring for me. You have a lot to do. Diavolo needs you.”

Lucifer knows what you’re up to. He has millenniums on you, after all. He smiles and brushes the hair back from your forehead. “I have informed my brothers, and the Prince, that you fell ill yesterday afternoon. I’ve taken time off to care for you.”

Your mind takes a moment to catch up. “Yesterday?”

“Yes. I cast a spell to knock you unconscious when I realized what I’d done. It helped, briefly. But you started screaming some time in the night and . . .”

You realize he’s been sitting here, holding you, for hours. Warmth blossoms in your chest. A happiness completely out of place, all things considered. But despite the blood loss and possibly permanent madness, you feel loved. Cared for.

Lucifer seems to read your mind. He says nothing, just places a light kiss on your forehead.

Neither of you need to speak. He knows and you know and words just complicate things anyway.

He stands, still holding you, and carries you to bed. When you drift back to sleep, it’s with your head on his chest, his arm around your shoulders to pull you close.

[muffindaddystyles]

Love Brings Patience.

A/N: Just an angsty "3am thoughts and listening to hozier while doing" it blurb. Enjoy!! ♡♡

It thunders outside loudly, but she didn’t flinch. The mass of blues and viridescent ivory painting the sky -- a call for rain, as when there’s blessed pour of shower after every winter sick – but it’s monsoon —- there’s none of the sympathy that these boofy clouds could slip into Y/N's pocket as she lays on her bed watching through the glass roof of the home ... they built together.

With so much, love, trust, faith and passion for eachother that anything in the world was unable to come between them – until it did.

Pinning against them and keeping them apart.

Everything will be okay, in the end. It’s not okay. It’s not the end.

It’s just beginning. Beginning to suffer alone and without him, his emotional and physical support, his cheery smile that’d race her heartbeat like chariots of Hades and his gentle need to saturate the distances between them wherever they’re, his loving gleamy eyes never skimming past her and he'd dot soft grateful kisses to her raspberry cheeks and kiss her temple as if she’s the goddess that resides in his home and it’d be a sin not to cherish her.

He loves too much. He did. He does. He loved her beyond everything that it killed him, he was sobbing that night – drenching the lilac carpeted floor with the water droplets dripping down and Y/N wasn’t sure if it was the roar of lightening against the creaky windows of their home or the feebleness of his voice that sobered her into dust.

“Been hurtin' ye'fo’ years .. by being away from you fo' months and coming back to just give y'memories and hopes for me early arrival —-.. what .. -- what kinda lover does that?” He hiccupped. His wet fringes didn’t let Y/N fetch him and dip her hand in his soul to touch it and tell him where he belongs, he always belonged to her – and your path is always destined to ones, who you belong to.

“-- ... makes ye' -m..m—makes you wait and takes the test of yer patience, like you’re not human –...” But, this isn’t what love brings? Wait and patience and sacrifice —- the yearn to have the love of your life in your embrace while you pace through the alleyway of airports.

Love brings patience.

“... darlin’ ye' deserve the same warmth of a body, same attention and love that everyone out there’s getting ..” His sniffles sharp and breathless as he pointed out the window to indicate the world and she doesn’t know how in just one night he became so silly, because her world is him — only him.

Her whisper came out broken, “And what about you?” Her caring question for him made him push the heels of his palms to his sockets and rub the stubborn fat tears away.

“It’s hurtin’ me to. Makes me not breath at nights, stayin' away from you -- ‘m never focusin’ –- ‘s just you, Always you in the pocket of me heart – the back of my mind —-- can’t escape it. My stupid stupid heart tries to see you in strangers faces ‘n —--... my arms pulls at cold sheets to get to your warmth but it never comes, whatever I do.” His chest tightened and it’s repeating the same shortness of breaths he used to get while crying to himself in those hotel rooms, the puffy lips gasping for oxygen and Y/N' was rushing towards him grabbing his jaw to inspect him but he’s slip shutting his eyes and gesturing her he’s okay.

Murmured sadly, “And lovie’ it hurts.” So, loving her hurts him? What kind of love is that? A piece of failure when it should be what they tell in fairy tales.

She failed him.

She was shuddering letting his hand slip from her sweaty palms when he stood up with a worn out sad face, head hung down with the burden of guilt and selfishness.

“I don’t wanna hurt you anymore.” She was on her knees. Lips wobbled glum. She tugged on the bottom of his trousers crying dolefully without any word.

“Not wanting to hurt me by hurtin’ me more?” She cried hugging his leg and not letting it go.

His bestowed assertion made her shudder as he stepped away and to side, “I don’t w'na hurt us anymore.” His heart cracked and promised to him that it'll never heal up how much he'd beg later.

He was crying into his wrist leaving their apartment. Closing his ears with his palms to shut down the loud reckless sobs that echoed till hallway.

That cruel summer night still haunts her every moment and it’s been two weeks, and she wishes that he'll come running towards where she’s shrinking into the bed and jump over her as he used to —-- covering the little distance from the kitchen towards the bed and always made them bounce with the glee of his soft giggles.

How merciless could he be?

Leaving her alone in their home, where every piece of furniture holds his memory; the pink vinyl that’d play their favourite French songs, the squared tiles of their kitchen walls that he wrote different recipes over, the glassed roof through which they'd moon gaze snuggled into eachother and he'd be more happy to stroke her skin and love on the softness of it rather than the twinkle of stars – because he does it when he misses her, not when she’s right in his arms kissing his cheeks to happy affection, his cat who’s homesick because her momma is there or not – it’s not a much difference.

Everything is just ghosts of his memories making the edges of her heart bleed and cracking them dry.

She misses him. She misses him terribly and no day goes by without his thought swimming and tickling her mind.

Telephone rings. It keeps on ringing and she ignores it closing her eyes and tries to surrender herself to darkness of sleep, but then it kept on cutting through the tranquillity of their home and she’s plucking the yellow receiver and speaking something – embarrassed when her voice doesn’t even reach herself.

There’s loud annoyed groaning, vigorous disturbance and a high pitched squeaks before Mitch's monotone voice startles Y/N, “Can you please take him home? He's proper waffled .. broke his —-.. Harry! Can you sit down? Christ. Look you’re looking like a clown in front of all these nurses —-- Y/N?” He sighs and Y/N turns the curly wire around her finger out of anxiousness.

Fidgety on the tips of her toes.

“Where are you? Nurses? Broke? Is Harry okay? Tell me Mitch what’s happening!!?” She’s yelling into the receiver snatching the notepad when Mitch mutters grumpily, “Harry’s in hospital.”

Her heart drops to floor at that and she stares at her feet letting it sink before blinking the tears away and asking him for locations.

The time she reaches it starts raining and she covers herself with the cardigan she sneaked from his wardrobe to feel his presence, his scent and his brush of touch to her skin.

When she’s stumbling inside the rushy lobby filled with people waiting for their turn and her blurry gaze moves in every direction to find Harry sitting on the steel benches, wearing loose tailored curdory trousers and a baby blue sweater she knitted him as a gift for his birthday.

His apple-ish cheeks rosy and his button of nose scrunching up as he sits clumsily on the bench, poking Mitch's bum every other second to laugh at some kid who has his hand struck in a pot.

His own wrist bandaged up and around his neck, his pupils glassy foam and his condition dishevelled and ruffled up. It tears her up and she breathes in a sniffle – wiping her nose and padding towards him.

When his eyes rakes up a huge dimply smile is adorning his weary features and he’s waving her with limpy fingers shyly.

He’s drunk, drunk.

He pouts cherry-ly. Brows flinching together and he position himself straighter with Mitch's help when he takes in the dampness of her cheeks, “Why’re y'cryin' lovie’?” Darn that pet name. He slurs and his words mumbish.

“You’re hurt...” She points at his wrist. He looks down as it isn’t obvious and Mitch rolls his eyes, “Not hurt.” He shakes his head and when looks back up he’s grinning.

“Was just takin' hugeee steps downstairs -- ye'know me clumsiness and it’s kinda Mitchy's fault too ... told him to grab me tightly —-... ‘cos ‘m sensitive lil petal —--...” Y/N's biting down a snort at his squeaky high pitched voice and Mitch’s cutting him with thin smile.

“Been biting my ears off about you. How was I supposed to keep my balance when he clings to me so hard as if I’m summat his lover....” Y/N's eyes widen when Mitch grabs Harry from armpits and slinks his one arm around Y/N's shoulder as if Harry’s some parcel and he didn’t like it.

“Take him, home.” He mumbles and she stutters, “Wait ... hey! How? Mitch come back you mummy head.” She calls for him but he just walks away and Y/N’s left with no option but to take Harry with her.

“Be careful.” She whispers walking down the slope at exit of hospital with Harry clinged to her, “You came here on car?” She nudges his cheek with her shoulder but he just snuggles his face into the nook of her jaw.

“Mitch took it?” She groans. Swiping the rain droplets away from her forehead and steps behind under the shelter, “No ... it’s parked right here.” He mumbles against her sweet spot making her shiver and she makes them do a lil jog to the car and Harry’s giggling squeaking nonsense in her ear.

“Harry if y’refuse to leave me .....” She warns him trying to squirm out of his embrace as he sits in the passenger seat holding her so she sighs and tries to stick to more gentle coaxing way.

Shaky fingers gliding up his cheek to cup it and stroke the blue bags under his eyes, screaming that he having restless night for week now, “Petal if you don’t leave me how ‘m supposed to drive?” He gazes her peculiarly –- caressing her knuckles, stares his own motion and gives her the most puppy eyes that melts her on the spot, “Then hold me hand?” Now, could she say no to him? Never. She hates herself for it.

“’kay you could hold my –-- lemme —--... just --.. good boy.” She takes her hand out of his grip and pats his thigh before rushing to driver’s side.

She knows that how much he needs reassurances when he’s drunk and how much his love language of touching her peaks to sky.

She fulfils her promise and let him hold her hand, enjoying the little happiness because she knows it’s temporary and in the morning she'd be met by empty bed and hollow arms.

“I missed home.” He smiles wetly. Eyes closed as he stays on hugging her walking inside and whines when she squats down to untie his laces.

When she make him sit on the sofa and tries to leave for the kitchen, he’s lurching forward to grab her wrist and plead into her arm with moisture in his eyes, “No.No.No lovie' don’t go. Don’t go, pleaseeeee.......” She pets his sweaty curls kissing his forehead and murmurs against his hair while he loops his elbows lazily around her waist.

“Not going anywhere bub. Bringing you water.”

“No water. Just you. I missed you. Missed you so much. Missed you too much.” He’s rambling knuckling at his eyes and her belly fills with butterflies that flap till her heart and makes her feel woozy.

Though, she overcomes the bitter sweet feeling and brings him water how much he whined.

He has his hand planted softly at her thigh and gasps loudly and dramatically finishing the last droplet, and puckers his lips making funny noises against the rim of glass and she takes it away from him giggling, “’kay it's enough.”

He shuts his eyes for a moment and when opens them back it’s sea of pinks and the tears are shining at his waterline and he croaks out hoarsely, “Y/N ....?” Sobered up. He's feeling awful and in constant need to take her in his arms.

“Hmm?” She hums giving him a nervous smile and he straightens up taking both of her hands in his's, “I don’t want to be away from you anymore, darlin'. It’s worse than being temporarily away from ye'. Terrible. Terrible. I feel sick all the time as if there’s a dagger twisting into my heart ‘cos I know ‘m never fallin' in love with anyone except you ... but I don’t think you deserve me —.. I -- I —... I just think you —--- it’s killing me baby. Take me back please, baby take me back." He sniffs the tears and she’s crying with him; calling out his name and when he doesn’t listen she’s cradling his face delicately in her palms and making him look at her.

“Harry, my sweetheart. I love you. Isn’t that enough to assure you that I deserve you and only you – no one else.” He's blinking furiously and she bobs her head not flickering her loving gaze away from him.

“I love you too, will you take me back now? After what I did?” His insecurity and doubts about himself floating back.

“You left for best. Realised that we couldn’t live without eachother, didn’t you?” She pecks the corner of his lips and he leans in for a chaste kiss, their teeth clanking from smiling wide and happy and he giggles when she pushes herself off from him.

They crawl to their bed together and she flumps on his chest and he moans squeakily, “Ow.”

“Oh my, Har ....” She gasps. Shakes her head and flicks him on forehead when he grins bashfully.

“G'na take care of me?” His chin doubles over adorably as he tries to see her and brush her hair away.

“Gonna take care of you, petal” She patches a soft kiss to his chest and erupts into loud giggles when he teases her nonchalantly, “G'na help me wipe my arse.”

“Harry! Your other hand’s perfectly capable of wiping yourself clean!” He brings her closer with his uninjured hand and kisses her tenderly -- to show her all the love they missed on these few weeks.

“I love being home.” He murmurs into the kiss. Playing with her tresses round his nimble and traces kisses all over her face.

“Promise me you’re never doing silly again.” She pouts and he plucks at it – smooching a kiss to it later.

“Promise.” He tries to hook his bandaged pinky to her's and she laughs into his neck – shakes her head and kisses his cheek hugging him tightly.

[dingdonghyvck]

Still Into You || Lee Haechan x Reader

Summary: Not a day goes by that Haechan’s not into you.

Genre: Angst

Pairing/s: Drummer!Haechan x Lead Vocalist!Reader, Minor College Student!Mark x Reader

Warnings: Explicit language, suggestive, mentions of sex and a few sex jokes, alcohol and cigarettes, cheating, manipulation of feelings, angst, and a few others I probably forgot to mention.

Word Count: 4.9k-ish

So I’ve been seeing a lot of Haechan drummer au’s on TikTok, so I thought fuck it and made one! I hope you like it :)

You can read Part two here: The Only Exception

“Can't count the years on one hand that we've been together,

I need the other one to hold you, make you feel, make you feel better.”

Donghyuck's pretty sure that you're the only person from high school that he still bothers to be around, it's been approximately 9 years since the day you two met. 9 years since the day he awkwardly sat next to you in seventh grade, 9 years since the day you drew dick doodles in his notebook as a form of icebreaker since you didn't know any other way of talking to him. It was safe to say that he was more than surprised to see flying dick doodles in his spiral notebook when he got back to class after lunch, still he was somehow amused by the scribbles and the little message you left him introducing yourself.

He immediately talked to you the moment you came  back inside the classroom with your earphones in. He still remembers it so clearly, the way you offered him the left piece of your earphones so you two can listen to music in secret, the teacher had already arrived and you two didn't have enough time to speak to each other. Donghyuck would say it was fate, others would say paramore's just too mainstream, but he didn't care. A cute girl liked the same bands as him, so he made it his goal to get closer to you.

And so you two bonded over music, something you both loved with your whole heart and soul. It was through countless concerts and after-school trips to the record store that got you closer and soon enough you two started messing with GarageBand, creating a few silly songs that were the epitome of teen angst, it was always in good fun. But Donghyuck suddenly came to you with a brilliant proposal one calm afternoon when you were hanging out his room.

"So there's like a battle of the bands at school every year... You sing right? Do you feel like making a band?"

"Yeah, sure..." You had shrugged mindlessly while painting his pinky finger black, mind a bit pre-occupied with what was happening back at home. But Donghyuck takes no notice from this, it was a simple reply but he didn't bother to press further, he could just rally up a few of his friends to start up this band, and if you ever do complain he can also scream blasphemy in your face. Plus he was enjoying the calm atmosphere, so he didn't want to ask any more questions. Well it was as calming as it could get since All Time Low was blasting through his bedroom's speakers, volume maxed out to the point it could make anyone’s ears bleed.

It took him quite a while to fill in missing band mates since you two weren't the most liked people at school, but eventually after a few persuasive talks over milkshakes you two have built a band by the end of February, a little too late for the battle of the bands event. But you all decided that it would be fun to congregate as the band geeks instead of going back to being the outcasts of the school. So practices were held in your basement everyday, you insisted on it since you were trying to spite your parents as much as you could, you hated your life at home, but you could bear the presence of your family if you had some friends around.

Skip a few years and here you are again as "The Innocents"—you honestly don't know why you agreed to the stupid band name, but you lacked the creativity and energy to argue with a caffeinated Donghyuck at 4 am when he had proposed it to the group chat. Although Hendery had complained fifteen times before practice that day, everyone still ended up in your basement, practicing for the annual battle of that bands event your school held, a final hurrah before ending high school.

Donghyuck loved playing the drums, he was drawn to the instrument since a young age so he did he have a natural sense of beat and rhythm. But what he liked the most was the view he got from the back. Not only could he watch the whole band work around the stage, he also had the best view of you. He enjoyed watching you jump around, how you would sometimes lick the side of Jeno’s face whenever you felt a bit mischievous, the way you would laugh at the middle finger he'd throw at you, the way you'd practically lay yourself down the center of the stage as you sang your heart out.

You naturally had the talent, that much was certain. Donghyuck always felt entranced whenever you took on the stage bravely, being the frontman was of course the most challenging position of all. But the way you handled the spotlight made it look so easy, as if you were made to be holding a mic since birth. It was as if you were dancing your own symphony and the rest of the band was nothing but a harmony struggling to follow through since your energy was too overwhelming at times.

But somehow you always made it work, no matter how much your band mates hated it, there was always something unique about the way you presented yourself onstage, demanding the audience's attention. No one was brave enough to even try being in your position, so they had let you bask in the limelight for the most part. But there was particular day you seemed different, as if you had been tuned down. There was something wrong and it was obvious enough to everyone that Jeno had to make up an excuse to leave early with Hendery. They had left abruptly to let you talk it out with Donghyuck, since well, he's your best friend.

Little did they know that you two have been casually fucking for the past year since the time Donghyuck confessed his feelings for you. You haven't given the relationship between you two a label since you weren’t really one to be tied down, but he was glad enough to be even be able to hold you.

You reveal to him that your parents were about to get a divorce, and as much as a shock it was to receive this news, what shocked him more was the moment you sat on his lap. You two were still situated in front of the drum set, but Donghyuck didn't seem to mind. So he helps you take your seat, arms wrapping around your waist as your fingers find its way onto the little hairs at the back of his neck, Donghyuck gulps when he sees you bring out a stick of cigarette.

"What? I'm stressed," You smiled wearily as you lit the cigarette. You take a sharp inhale before blowing the smoke to his face, he scrunches his nose.

"Are you sure you're okay? divorces can be-"

You cut him off by placing the lit cigarette to his lips, the tiny smirk on your face made him frown. You raised an eyebrow at him while you waited, you really didn't feel like talking about your parents, so you evaded it the the same way you'd usually evade him whenever he brought up anything about feelings. He paused for a moment to look at you before inhaling from the cigarette, immediately coughing afterwards. His eyes a little teary as he muttered a small "jesus christ”, you giggled before taking his face into your hands. You push back a few strands of hair as you admired his forehead, he had done nothing but stare back at you.

"Don't tell me you'll leave me too" you whispered as you nuzzled your nose against his neck.

Donghyuck lets out the breath he was holding, gently caressing your backside as he chuckled, finally relaxing into your arms. He knew that it was wrong for you two to not speak about your personal lives that much, since it was pretty obvious you were having troubles at home. But he knew how much you hated to feel feelings, so he never overstepped boundaries. He lets you be for the most part, except for times he reminded you that it’s okay to open up to him. You were always quick dismiss him, telling him you were a big girl and you didn't want to bother or burden him. As much as he'd like to keep insisting, he'd rather just leave you be.

"If I say I love you will you stay forever?" you mumbled as you kissed the mole on his neck, smudging a bit of lipstick on his sun-kissed skin.

Donghyuck felt his heart drop to his stomach,  taking your face into his large palms, caging you into his gaze to see if you were joking, or if you had any doubts behind your gaze. but he was met with the softest gaze he's ever seen on you. Your mascara and eyeliner were running down your cheeks, the little black heart you drew in this morning was smudged to a dot on your pretty face. And a few might say you looked like a mess as tears rimmed your eyes, donghyuck could only think about how much he wanted to kiss you.

"You'll always have me" he whispered, bringing your face towards his. It felt hot, too hot that his skin actually felt like burning the moment your hands touched his backside under his shirt. the kiss was passionate, filled with so much heat and lust that it felt dangerous, he was seconds away from being burned alive; but you suddenly pulled away.

"I love you," you whispered against his mouth, lips brushing past each other as each syllable left your mouth. Your nose gently touched his as you breathed him in, gripping onto his biceps as best as you can, desperate in needing to feel him against you.

Donghyuck does not reply, he simply brings your lips back to his. And as much as he wanted to be more gentle, to take his time with you and make you feel how much he worshipped your body, but your passion burnt too hot that he couldn't smother it. He lets it consume him, his whole being as he loses himself in you, too consumed by your flare and embers to notice how he was slowly burning himself out, that he himself was going to be smothered by you.

“It's not a walk in the park to love each other.                                      

But when our fingers interlock, can't deny, can't deny, you're the worth it.”

"Why are you making such a big deal out of this!?" you screamed, eyes reddening from stress as you pulled at your hair, hard enough to rip a few strands out.

"Johnny's just a fucking friend!" you continued, about to leave the room to run away but he cages you against the wall, hands gripping your shoulders harshly, he was bound to leave marks.

"Baby i'm pretty sure friends don't suck each other off in restaurant bathrooms" he snarled, his voice masked with so much venom that if it were a different person they would be quivering with their knees buckling, but you were different, so you stood your ground.

"I already said I love you what do you fucking want from me?" you laughed coldly, crossing your arms against your chest.

"Love... I'm your boyfriend, I don't know how fucked up your brain is, but don’t tell me you don't know what a boyfriend is." he groans in annoyance, pushing himself away from you. The fighting had been so frequent that you two would be at each other's throats more often than not. The added stress from university and his side jobs was finally ticking him off, he was at his breaking point and he didn't know how long he could still be with you when you were blatantly cheating on him.

"Let's break up then." you muttered, looking down at your feet.

"Fine." He mumbled in defeat, taking a seat on the couch. He buries his face into his palms, trying his best to calm down while his breathing increased. He didn't realized what he had agreed to until he heard his door slam shut. That was the moment he knew he made a mistake, he had let you go too easily. You on the other hand, couldn't help but be the happiest you've been the whole week, finally free. And while Donghyuck was left to try and fix what was left between the two of you, you were out to get coffee, living freely as if nothing had happened.

“Cause after all this time                                         

I'm still into you...”

You sang with the tiniest smile, hiding behind your bangs as you tried your best to jump around the stage and keep eye contact with the blonde male sat front row. It's been 8 months since you and donghyuck broke up and yet you've already found a new boy, some dude you accidentally spilled coffee on. Some random dude who asked for your number and you easily said yes, some random dude that caught your eye. Although it's been months since the breakup, Donghyuck couldn’t help but feel bitter; you had broken his world in half and somehow you still looked fine.

A normal person would walk away. A normal person would leave you and realize how toxic and dangerous you were to the people around you, how you pushed everyone away the second they get too close. But somehow Donghyuck was different, he doesn't know why or how he's doing it, but he sticks by your side. Agreeing to still be in the band and staying as friends, since of course we all fuck our best friends once in our lives right? But like the dumb lapdog he was, he accepted your apology at 12 am in the morning when you showed up drunk at his doorstep. Maybe it was the side of him desperately clinging onto you, looking for some sort of closure or any sign of you regretting the breakup, but months had passed and the days seemed normal for you.

He knew how wrong it was, don't mistake him for someone who's stupid enough to let a girl trample over his heart. He somehow just couldn’t keep away, you had broken him to the point that he didn't want anyone else unless it was you. It really was all so stupid in retrospect. He's handsome, irresistible, and incredibly hot so he could easily grab anyone he wanted but somehow he always ends up pining after you.

No matter how many girls and guys he sees he always ends up in the exact same spot, in the back, sat on his drum set to watch you jump around and light up the stage. But this time you brought a whole different aura, it was his first time seeing you shy. Was it that random Mark guy you started seeing? It's not likely that you'd let the guy stick around, you hated being tied down.  Yet Donghyuck feared this was different, since well, you really seemed off this week since you met Mark.

You don’t even show up at his place shit-faced at 3am every weekend anymore. You even attended some of your classes because Mark would be in them. You smoked less and it seemed like you were finally getting your life together. Did this stranger have that kind of effect on you? Nevertheless Donghyuck could feel the anger bubble in his stomach as he hams up his drumming, annoyed and frustrated at how hard you were to read. he didn't notice that he had been banging at the drums so loud that it muffled out your singing, confusing both Jeno and Hendery who were eyeing him from the sidelines. This continues until the end of the song, but you didn't seem to mind since you decided to ignore it, busy staring at Mark as he smiled shyly at you, raising his glass as you continued to sing your heart out.

“I should be over all the butterflies but I'm into you, I'm into you.      

And even baby our worst nights I’m into you, I'm into you.”

After the last set, you were gulping down the beer Jeno handed you, messily wiping your lips with the back of your hand as you looked for a blonde college boy in the crowd. It wasn't long until you're met with the cutest smiles, his shy eyes hiding behind his glasses as he complemented how great you were, it was his first time watching you sing.

"I wasn't that bad was I?" you asked, giggling playfully, you placed the empty bottle on the counter behind him.

"You were great! the best even," he chuckled as he wrapped his arm around you, his scent engulfed you. You gladly tucked yourself into his arm, you fitted perfectly.

"Mhmm? Then why can't you look me in the face?" you challenged, laughing at the way Mark coughed up his drink from embarrassment.

"Well I don't usually see you dressed up.... like this" he mumbled shyly, of course he hasn't. What you were wearing wasn't necessarily your Sunday's best. You’re pretty sure Mark's father, who's a pastor, wouldn't be too happy to see you showing up for a family dinner in a lace crop top and ripped skinny jeans.

"It's how I usually dress for the gigs, it's not ugly is it...?" you pouted, and as much as you hated acting cute, you loved watching Mark squirm.

Mark wasn't even able to reply when your band mates' presence was made known by  Hendery who ordered everything available in the bar. You couldn't help but giggle while watching your friend drink shot after shot, he offered you some but you declined since you didn't want to get shit-faced in front of Mark, you were better than that. You knew he was totally out of your league, being the perfect christian college boy studying english literature, he's probably the type who'll marry a pretty trophy wife that will give him three beautiful kids. You didn't even know why Mark gave you a chance, you were practically trash on the side of the road compared to him.You were struggling enough to get by with the gigs and college funds, but he doesn’t seem to mind when you would come up empty-handed during dates, he would gladly spoil you— so consider yourself lucky.

"Hyuck you're not looking too hot" Jeno says it while checking the drummer’s temperature, the brunette simply pushed his hand away, trying his best to avoid your gaze.

"I'm fine" he rolled his eyes, opening a few buttons of his silk shirt, grabbing the attention of some of the ladies near the bar.

"What do you mean? Hyuck's hot as fuck!" Hendery shouted, most probably drunk. Jeno tries to pull the shot glass away but it only ends up spilling all over the counter, Mark scrunches his nose in disgust.

"Wouldn't you know?" Hendery continued pointing towards you, he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. Mark's arm drop from your shoulder, you suddenly freeze from his comment.

"Yeah wouldn't you know sunflower?" Donghyuck smirked, eyes meeting with those of Mark's who looked uncomfortable. You tried shooting him a glare, telling him to stop ruining your night, you wanted to finally shoot your shot with Mark. The blonde made you feel different, he made you feel stable and safe, it’s been a long time since you last felt this way. You didn’t even know you were still capable of developing feelings and you haven't felt this way towards anyone so you really didn't want to mess it up. But to your anguish, Mark's curiosity got the better of him.

"Oh yo wait, so you two... were a thing?" Mark coughed awkwardly, his hand going to grip your waist which made you perk up.

"Yeah we've known each other for quite... some time, so it's natural that we've tried stuff" Donghyuck shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets to hide the way he's balling up his fists.

"Yeah but that was like a decade ago, we don't really-"

"Pretty sure 8 months isn't a decade long love" Donghyuck raised his eyebrow, a little smirk makes his way as he sees Mark's grip on your waist falter.

"So do you two still...?"

"No! No, never again... Why would I when I already have you?" you immediately cut Mark off, he's startled by your reply but he still smiles at you, not as bright as the ones he'd shoot you when were onstage. There was a long awkward pause but thankfully Mark speaks up.

"Well! I have like four essays due tomorrow, so I'm gonna have to head out. Want me to drive you home?" he offers, and you were about to accept but you saw Donghyuck raising an eyebrow at you so you stop yourself.

"I would but... We still have a second set, I... I'll call you" you said worried that he'd be turned off with the idea that you had slept with your best friend who you're still friends with by the way, but he simply shook his head as if he was telling you to not worry about it. He kisses your forehead gently before saying goodbye to the rest of the boys. You watch his retreating figure but you weren't able to see him exit the club's doors because it's not long before you feel a strong grip on your left wrist and you're being dragged to somewhere.

“Let 'em wonder how we got this far,

'Cause I don't really need to wonder at all.”

Donghyuck leads you to the club's dirty bathroom, lowly lit with the purple and pink lights. He locks the door behind him but the vibrations of the club's speakers pounded against the door, it was still just as deafening as it was outside. Donghyuck stares at your face for a moment, thinking of what words to say. He watched the way you pursed your lips, you probably were thinking the same, so he beats you to speaking.

"Second set? I'm pretty sure we're done for the night sweetheart-" Donghyuck's stopped mid sentence by your hand coming across his face with a harsh slap, he smiles sadistically when he looks up at you.

"Yeah there's no second set but I had to tell you this" you said, eyes lit with a fire he's never seen before.

"Don't. Ruin. Mark. For. Me." you spat as you pushed him with your finger, backing him up against the club's door. His smirk finally falters, he looked just as confused and annoyed the day you two broke up.

"What? Everything I said was true, doesn't he deserve to know? Let him wonder how we got this far... If he ever doubts your feelings for him, then he doesn't deserve you"

You think about how it's actually the other way around, because for the first time in your life, you're finally making a change for the better. Since your abusive past and your parents' divorce you had always been problematic. Rebelling against your mother since she had refused to accept to support your band. You lived buck-wild, mostly relying on Donghyuck for sustenance. You thought your hate for the people around you was reasonable because of your parents, so you closed off everyone, including Donghyuck. You rebelled and used people as much as you liked, you thought it was only fair you'd reciprocate the hurt the world had given you. But after meeting Mark, it felt like a breath of fresh air, he made you feel alive, like you still had a chance to do the right thing.

"I just don't want to ruin things with him, he's... different" You whispered softly, gripping his silk button-up. Donghyuck laughs cold at this, switching your positions so that you were the one with your back against the door, he cages you against it, making you feel small as he traced your jawline.

"What? are you into virgin college boys now? do they turn you on that much?" he chuckled wickedly, his eyes stared deeply into your own.

"We both know you're never capable of love princess, you like playing with feelings. Because in the end, I know you'll end up breaking this boy's poor heart because that's who you are..." his voice ends up becoming a whisper in the end, his lips inching closer to yours, and without knowing it he presses his lips against yours.

To your shock, you kiss him back for a few seconds but realize what you were doing. You pushed him away to slap him again, he holds your palm in his hand, he harshly holds your wrist against the door. You try to wriggle free from his grip but you stopped when you looked at his face. He had his forehead against yours, tears streaming down his cheeks, his eyes were closed but you could hear his sniffling as he tried to collect himself. It was now that you finally realize how much you had hurt him. You didn't know that he was this affected by your break up since he had easily agreed to it. You were also blinded by your selfishness, your anger towards the world that you didn't know you were already hurting someone so important to you.

So you soften up, remembering that this broken guy who stood before you was still your best friend. Your best friend who stayed with you when you were at your worse, your best friend who loved you unconditionally even if you drove everyone away.

"That's exactly who you are, you're a heartless monster." he cried, you silently agreed with him but you kept your mouth shut, willing to listen to him finally tell you his feelings. You have been an asshole for most of your life, and you knew it, so you thought this was the least you could do for him. You didn't think much of Donghyuck’s feelings in the past, so it was only hitting you now, he had truly loved you. Even if you were the most flawed person. Even if you were the sad little girl who was too scared of the world, the little girl who believed that everyone was out to get her. He had loved you fully, through and through, even if you had intentionally cheated on him.

"I'm sorry" you whisper, finally realizing how cruel you were these past years. You hated yourself, you truly did. You hate yourself for playing with his feelings, for leading him on when you didn't really have feelings for him back then. You used him for your enjoyment not thinking of his emotions, you used him as an escape from your reality, your troubled past. You truly were a monster and it was finally made clear to you.

"Then take me back," he whispered, he sounded so broken that it took a while for you to register what he said. You didn't reply and he looks up to meet your gaze and your heart breaks.  

"After all this time, I'm still so into you, so please... just give me a chance to be yours again" he begged, you knew he was ready to beg on his knees if it weren't for your current position, you could feel the shiver run down your back because of guilt.

"Donghyuck." you sighed as you took his face into your palms, you look into his eyes and you could see the glimmer of hope behind them, hoping that  you were about to say yes to his offer, but to his disappointed you only caused more heartbreak.

"I really really like Mark... and you were probably right, I'm so fucked in the brain that I didn't even think of your feelings back then. Of how real your emotions were for me, I thought we were just casual, but it seems like you really..." you trail off thinking of the right words to say

"loved me. I'm so sorry for being a fucking asshole, I have no excuses. Being hurt by my parents gives me no reason to hurt you back, so you don't have to accept my apology, I don't deserve it... But I’m doing what I think is best for us right now, I'm kicking you out of the band"

Donghyuck's eyes widened at this, his hands desperately clasping onto yours as he tried to bring his lips back to yours. He didn't know why he was trying to kiss you, probably it was because of the alcohol in his system, or most likely desperation. But all he knew he wasn't ready to let go, to say goodbye to you just yet, so he tried grasping for any piece of you he could as you removed his desperate hands from your body, both of you crying as you tried to push him away for good.

"What do you mean? why do you keep pushing me away like this?" he cries out as he hugs you, you pat his back.

"Because this is wrong, and it's time for you to be happy." you freed yourself from his weak grip, he tried to fight back but you insisted, it finally hit him that this was inevitable, it was finally time for you to say goodbye.

"Thank you for everything" you whispered, and with a final slip of his grasp you were gone. You had opened the door and left him in the bathroom, broken and lost.

“Yeah, after all this time, I'm still into you.”

Part 2

[ofmythsandmadness]

to be called beautiful | d.h.

❛ do you ever miss, having someone around to love you?❜

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

SUMMARY: vigilantes!au. you push the boundaries of your relationship, and ask for a wish you know won't be given back. (or — it's late, and after another night of patrol, loneliness sets in deep.) WARNINGS: slightly nsfw??? mentions to sex, no descriptions. it's not a sexual story, just a part of an inner monologue. WORD COUNT: 2.6k+ NOTES: reposting this in hopes it shows up this time (pls pls pls i'm gonna cry). i've been writing a whole other series that is a totally different writing style, but i've been trying to work out my emotions in small, focused pieces like this one when i can't focus. i might develop this into a small ficlit series of it's own, bc i think it's kinda fun — but we'll see how this goes.

THE BEAST THAT IS YOUR LONELINESS has been your burden for too long to say.

It's hold on you is a familiar ache, one you've felt for years, like a chronic tight tugging on your heart that refuses to give in no matter what you try. But you still refuse to name it for fear of coming to terms with the implications of it all. That you're really alone in this life and you're terrified of what that means and the fact that you can't have what your childhood stories promised would be yours.

Like the fool you are, you cling to the idea that it's just passing notions. You'll get over it one day. The flitting daydreams of a fairytale romance better fit for a vanilla Hallmark flick suck, but one day they won't hurt so bad. You'll numb and find a way to fill the void. And you try, you really do, pushing it down for the quick release of meaningless acts and walks of shames and cold bedsheets.

Sex is a toxic friend. You choose it's pull when your heart aches most and the loneliness begs for your breath to the point where every gasp of air is a privilege, not the bare minimum. It's not what you crave. There's no romance, no love. It's a trade and one that always leaves you feeling robbed of something you're not sure you ever even had.

You rarely remember their names. You know they probably won't remember yours. And why would they? The shudders, the whimpers, the cold moans that amount to nothing but crumbs of a supposedly passionate act only pass an hour, then they're gone. Or you're gone, if you're lonely enough to risk it. A bit of fun, a breath of pink and white and the feeling of someone pulling you closer, begging for your skin against theirs.

And then, it's all grey again. And you're alone at your apartment, washing your body free of the marks some stranger dared to press into your wilting skin, wondering what it would feel like for a lover to kiss you that same way. Running your fingers over every inch that has been caressed by so many faceless guests, trying to hold yourself in the way your foolish heart pounds for. But it's never enough. Your hands don't cup your flesh, don't mould and kiss and promise the carefully knitted lies any lover had dealt you in the past. And you're as cold as ever when they fall back to your sides. Nothing enflames your skin like you wishes it could — like those you wish would.

It's a discontent you live with. Just as you're sure millions of others do. That's what life is; you push yourself through the day, through your mundane day job and your taxing nighttime hobbies (because you sure as hell can't claim what you do as real work if your only pay is in blood and tears). You cling to the good times that happened too long ago to remember clearly, and make the moments that you're alone with your thoughts as small as possible.

But there's no time to consider all that now.

You scrunch your face up as tight as you can, squeezing your eyes shut to the point where you see stars, exploding like confetti in some absurd black void that hides behind your lids. For a moment you hold the pose, watching the stars erupt, until the position hurts too much and you have to release.

Surroundings blur and then clear as your eyes readjust from their disassociation. You stare blearily at the random coffee shop you and your 'associate' chose for the night. It's just as generic as the last five visited, a thousand shades of brown and red and weary smiles the bored baristas wear just for a cheap check that'll barely cover their asses. It's worn and empty; no one's hear except the two of you and the workers who probably hate you for being here so late.

Normally, you would feel like an asshole staying so late. But you can't bring yourself to move, or even suggest to. It's all too heavy. And even if it's in brooding silence, you don't want to leave your partner. Not yet, you beg the universe, just a few more minutes.

And, speaking of—

"What's got you so blue today?"

You blink. Look over to him, only to see him already watching you.

There's really no point lying. He always unravels you too quickly, too easily — it's the detective in him, unravelling anyone and scooping their truths from shivering flesh. Some sort of childhood trauma response he developed into another super power.

You used to hate it. Now...if you concentrate hard enough, his sharp gaze feels like one of a lover's.

"Don't know what you mean," you tell him, foolish and flustered. "I'm just fine."

"Bullshit. You've sighed a dozen times in the last five minutes."

"Tch. No I haven't."

"Did too!"

His teeth glint, white and clashing against the full pink of his lips. You wish you could denounce all the times you wondered what it would feel like to have them graze against your keening skin — but not even all the gods could cleanse of you of those thoughts. Those desperate, pleading, melancholic memories stain; he can't see them, but you do when you look close enough. And you can't escape it, much as you try.

"Seriously, though. What's up with you?"

Your gaze falls down to your hands, eager to escape his allure, though it's not a great distraction. It only makes you more bitter, really, taking in all the flaws that litter your weaponised limbs. They're calloused from a million fights. Your knuckles are scarred, aching from wounds you reopen every other night. A thousand scars from a thousand scrapes, cuts, slashes and grazes linger on once perfect skin. You don't know how many there are, anymore, only that you wish you could wipe them off. Start over, have a clean slate. Erase all your mistakes and be beautiful again.

"I'm just tired," you lie. It's tense and pitiful; you know you've screwed it up the second the words leave your lips. "S'all."

"Ri-i-ight, and I'm the goddamn queen of England."

The absurdity of his retort makes your lips twitch. It's not enough for a smile, your self-inflicted misery makes sure of that, but it's a seed of something. "Wow. Didn't know I was in the presence of royalty."

"Yeah, yeah. Shut it."

"My apologies, your highness."

"Shut up, you little shit," he grumbles, but it's as soft as you get from him. It's practically a cry of love — or your foolish mind paints it as such. You take his teasing insults as promises of adorations and his arguments are poems of lust and infatuation that tug on your heartstrings in ways you know they shouldn't.

You're partners, for crying out loud. Professional coworkers (if you call the bloody mess you two create work). You don't get to miss him, or crave him, or love him like you do.

"Something happen to you?"

You watch his own hands fold and unfold on the table. The long, delicate fingers stand out on a man like him; someone who paints himself in only sharp angles and cutting lines. But you think they match him well. They promise life. Bleed hope, even in the raised scars that lace his skin like your own. You've watched those fingers grip a blade, launch it into flesh, pull and push and dig and rip and take and committed acts of atrocity most people would run from. You know he probably thinks of his hands the same way you do. But you think they're beautiful.

"Nah. It's...it's nothing. Really."

You can't see his face, but you imagine his narrowed eyes and furrowed brows asking for an answer you're just not willing to give. "C'mon, just tell me. Can't be that bad."

Your body laughs. You hear it from some place far away. It's cold and hoarse; you wonder how long it's been since you've heard a genuine laugh from yourself. You wonder if he notices (and wishes he did, foolishly, frivolously...).

It's probably stupid, but you go for it.

"You ever miss having someone?"

Something creaks; his chair, groaning as he shifts his weight. One of his fingers taps against his empty coffee cup; idle music for a restless soul.

"Like, in what way?"

"I..." Your nails dig into your palms. This was a mistake, but one you have to follow through with. He won't accept silence after something like that. "In the cheesy, domestic sorta way? That whole, havin' someone to come home to, someone who you can talk to, someone who..." the words stick like molasses in the back of your throat. Try as you do, they refuse to give themselves to him, so you have to substitute. "Just, someone who likes you, past your body or, or whatever."

"Oh."

"Sorry." It's your turn to shift in your seat, awkwardly searching for something to occupy yourself with as this uncomfortable energy you've created carries on. But your cup's empty, and you don't have the cash to ask for another overpriced latte. "Forget about it. Let's talk about somethin' else, yeah?"

He doesn't answer that. In fact, he doesn't say anything at all for a moment, long enough to make you wonder if you've just crossed the line of no return. You can't bring yourself to look at him, hell your cowardice is painful enough to make you wonder if you should just make a run for it, say au revoir! to the bond you've built with this knife-obsessed robin hood and crush your heart forever.

It's tempting, and you consider it, but then he fills the silence.

"I miss Eudora sometimes."

Finally, your gaze tilts up. Your eyes meet his lips. He's not smiling anymore.

You guys don't talk about exes together. It's a forbidden topic, same as family or childhoods or the number of people that have cut you open and bled you dry for fun. It's too personal, and in this line of work, personal doesn't fly. But you know Eudora Patch, because this line of work requires a couple run ins with people like her, and because your partner in crime has never learned how to stop his emotions from bleeding into his expression.

"Not because I still love her, but y'know..." his fingers wave aimlessly. "It was nice, when it worked. I liked having someone to sleep with. In a non-sexual manner." His lip curls a little. "Guess the sex part was nice too, though."

You nod. "Yeah, I get that. It's...it was nice, having someone who knew you. Who wanted to make you feel good, not just for themselves but 'cause that sort of things matters."

"Mm."

"Y'ever consider pursuing that sort of thing?"

He shakes his head. His adamancy is a truck smashing into your heart — though you know you should have expected no less, it still hurts. "I can't. It never works, with people like us. Y'know?"

"Yeah. Makes sense." You want to say more. You probably should say more — but you doubt he wants to hear your woes about intimacy, and the pathetic ways you crave affection you probably don't deserve. "Yeah."

"Why?"

"Hm?"

His brows knot. "Why're you asking? Someone do somethin'?"

"What? No."

"Cause, like, if someone's hurt you, I'll—"

"I'm fine," you promise, and without thinking, you reach across the table to pat his hand. To reassure him like one would a lover. But just before your fingers meet his, the bitter reminder that he's not yours sets in and you draw back. Your hand falls a couple inches from his own. "And I can take care of myself, if I wasn't. Don't worry."

He chuckles mirthlessly. "Y'sure about that? You're still the dumbass that tripped over her own feet twice walking down an empty sidewalk, and—"

"—oh, you are such an asshole, why can't you just—"

"—so if you need someone to cut a bitch, I'm available."

You soften slightly. Try to smile, even if it's a false promise and probably hangs like a broken door on mismatched hinges. "I appreciate that. But I'm okay. Think I'm just tired, and a little lonely."

"What, I'm not good enough for you anymore?"

Bitterness seeps onto your tongue; it speaks before you can shut your lips around it. "You're fine as a partner against crime. But you're not anything otherwise, are you?" It feels like a taunt. You hadn't meant it to be — though, maybe you had.

If he takes your jeer poorly, though, it doesn't show on his face. He's still smiling and watching you, eyes simmering with a joke you wish you were in on.

"It doesn't matter though. Having someone's too complicated, 'specially for fools like us. Sometimes it's just..." you don't have a good answer. Not one he'd want to hear, anyways. "I just miss it sometimes. It'd be nice to have someone to talk to, or eat breakfast with in the mornings."

He nods slowly. "Yeah. Was nice, having another body around."

"Yeah. Ha. I," you stutter out a chuckle. Tug at your lip, nibbling at the cracked skin that comes with your long nights. "No one prepares you for how lonely adulthood is. Like, I'm half tempted to make friends with the takeout guys, just so I have a friend at all."

"We're friends."

"You know what I mean," you mumble, swallowing the bitter 'are we?' that almost makes its way off your tongue. "It was just nice when I had the time, to have a person around. Someone to like, hold hands with, or-or call me beautiful, sometimes. I-I can't remember the last time called me that, any..."

Fuck.

You hadn't meant for that last confession.

He wasn't supposed to hear that. It's too personal, too personal, too fucking personal for someone you don't even know.

Everything trembles; you're shaking like an avalanche, ready to sweep it all away under some snow drift. Never to be seen again. But you can't do that, there's no taking back the way your voice cracked as it reaches it's last word, and how your hand slips into a fist, ready to charge even though there's no punching your way out of this fumble.

You crack. Stumble out of your seat. Before he can talk you're moving, throwing a couple bills (too many for your poor wallet, you'll pay for that later) down and mumbling something about heading home. Your head's spinning and you just want to sit down again, pretend like this never happened and ask about some meaningless moment in a meaningless day that you wish could be yours and his, not just—

"—text me when you're goin' out again," you say, high and nervous. "I'll be around."

You turn.

"You don't have to leave."

"I got work tomorrow. Early."

"Thought you had the day off?"

Fuck, la deuxième acte. "Taking a shift for someone."

"Oh." He doesn't believe you. He would be a fool to. But he agrees anyways. "Okay."

"See ya, Kraken."

He doesn't answer you back. It's probably better that way.

BONUS

Many hours later, you're in bed, finally dozing off. You've rinsed off the filth of the night and resigned yourself to a barely adequate rest alone, too tired to consider what usually makes your mind race. It's been a long day; let future you contemplate all the ways you've screwed up.

Just as you're about to fall asleep, however, there's a small ping! that immediately wakes you up A notification sound reserved for only one person.

You groan but still roll over. Your heart may be a humiliated, burning mess, but it still beats for him, much as you've tried to stifle it.

kraken // 2:36 am. you available at 11p tomorrow?

kraken // 2:37 am. got word somethin going down at east docks, wanna check it out before it gets bad.

Relief is a sweet blessing. You exhale and smile into the darkness. He's still a professional, even if you seem unable to understand what that means.

you // 2:40 am. for sure. meet me at my place whenever and we can prep.

You leave it at that. Whatever he has to say after that, cannot be too important to waste your precious hours of sleep. So you roll over and shut your eyes and let yourself forget about the empty space that fills your place.

It's a decision you regret the next morning, when you wake up and realise what you missed.

kraken // 3:31 am. you ever get lonely for someone, feel free to let me know.

kraken // 3:32 am. might not make a great boyfriend, but i'll eat breakfast with you. so long as you're cooking.

A/N - I had a whole idea for two tired vigilantes (like what Diego does in season one, but partnered up) who both are really lonely and tired of life and all it's shit, and rely on each other more than they'll ever admit, and...I'll probably never write it, but this was a fun bit of that. two lonely emotionally deprived assholes who can't accept that maybe they can be loved and the person who wants to is right in front of them. :)

[lxvelyvixlet]

( bridget satterlee , twenty-two , ciswoman , she/her , legacy ) welcome  to  oakmore  VIOLET ASTOR  back  again  for  your  SENIOR  year ,  i see .  well ,  what  are  you  waiting  for  unpack  your  bags  in  your  room  at   MARSDEN HOUSE  &  get  settled .  oh ,  don't  listen  to  the  rumours  VIOLET .  i  don't  think  that  you're  CONCEITED ,   actually  i  think  that  you're  quite  MAGNETIC  -  you  know ,  you  actually  remind  me  of  VERONICA SAWYER .  okay ,  well  see  ya  round .  

name: violet josephine astor

nickname(s): vee

birthday:  november, 1 1999

pronouns: she/her 

sexuality: bisexual

major: art history

clubs/teams: event committee

height: 5'8" 

eye colour: blue

hair colour: light brown

zodiac big three: scorpio sun, aquarius moon, libra rising

positive traits: magnetic, accepting, dreamy, curious

negative traits: superstitious, aloof, stubborn, sensitive 

faceclaim: bridget satterlee

bio:

say it with me, O L D  M O N E Y

violet grew up in laguna beach, california. despite her beachy, laidback surroundings, violet’s life wasn’t lacking when it came to glamour and privilege.

her father, james astor, part of the astor lineage and a successful art dealer, comes from a long line of wealth and ensured his family, violet and her mother, were fully immersed in that silver spoon lifestyle. 

violet’s mother, helena, moved to california from paris to marry james. after a brief trip to paris, he swept the artist off her feet and whisked her away from her life in france. which suited helena just fine seeing as a lavish lifestyle was all she wanted. well, that, and to work on her painting and sculpture. 

growing up, violet seemed to fit into the elite circles. the galas and cotillions, weddings, divorce parties, and fundraisers. that was the only world she knew. but she’s always felt like something is missing. she always felt like an imposter. she yearns for more. a feeling that has stuck with her.

it wasn’t easy, feeling like an outsider while surrounded and praised by the very people she couldn’t connect with. imposter syndrome turned into self medication and, well, violet developed a bad habit of stuffing her feelings with drugs and alcohol whenever she can. but she’ll never admit it. 

knowing all that, one might wonder why violet chose to attend her father’s alma mater and join the same house he was part of, carrying on his legacy and last name at oakmore. but violet has learned not to cross her father. not if she wants to inherit her trust fund and not if she wants the mandatory visits home to be bearable. 

now, she’s studying art history, pursuing her passion for art (something she inherited from her mother), and immersing herself in the world she wishes to rid herself of entirely. 

personality:

violet is a humanitarian through and through. a bleeding heart, an empath. she shoulders other’s burdens without a second thought. probably because she doesn’t want to work on her own issues.

despite everything going on behind the scenes, violet can be the life of the party. she can drink you under the table and kick your ass in beer pong.

“what? you think a first-class girl can't drink?”- rose dewitt bukater

she’s loves conversation. more than that, she loves listening. maybe it’s the empath in her, or the artist, but violet could spend hours listening to someone share their life story with her. it’s all part of her escapism. 

a soft soul, but she’ll bite your face off if you’re an asshole. (wc?)

a hopeless romantic, but also a flight risk. (wc?)

lover of ghosts and folklore and witchy things and cats. pugs, too.

honestly, violet is just a sweetheart who likes keeping her inner circle small, shopping in thrift stores, and telling outrageous stories. she craves adventure and meaningful connection. really, that’s it.

oh, and her jokes are terrible. (mostly)

wanted connections:

someone to share a joint with at 2 am on the marsden house roof. someone she can daydream with. 

exes because always

women supporting women squad

someone who keeps eating her strawberry yogurt and she’s literally about to cut holes in all of their underwear. 

someone to ground her. 

someone to run wild with.

you know... everything!

that’s all i got, ghouls! let’s plot :) 

[sooniesspot]

Fluff Drabbles

☁️ Yoongi Fluff ☁️

warnings: poetically implied smut, slight Angst. Longing. Lil sprinkle of heartache and hopelessness.

word count 2.4k

A/N: Im purely publishing this on the notion that when sending this to my bestie @countingyoongis it made her "flip the soul she doesn't have" thought that was good enough reason. Anyways, enjoy!

“I’ll be here, waiting.” 

Maybe it was the way you watched the world go by. Maybe it was the way you missed your family. A life constantly on the road never faired well for you. Sure, for him a decade on the road doing a job he loved with his best friends, never seemed to phase him. But countless birthdays and Christmases were missed, your family opening presents without you. You missed hearing your brothers argue about making your mother her tea. Your mothers laugh at the way your family dog would spin in circles; excitement racing through their body. Your friends who yearned for your company. Dissipated into the background that was your blurry life, travelling the world with the love of your life. 

You felt empty when you were alone lately. Finding little joy in the things you used to. Plants withered and games unplayed; kept in boxes for you to deal with another time. The moments spent with him were the best moments of your life. The realest moments you could ask for. Sleepy flights where he would curl up into your side, cheeks rising like bread and heavy eyes as he mumbled incoherently to you. Moments you watched him on stage, giving his all. Even after injuries, falls, criticisms. You loved him all the while. 

Even in the moments of early morning, before the sun graced the sky, you’d sit in silence, alone with your thoughts. Unable to find sleep while your boyfriend was counting sheep; mouth slightly agape with the odd snore. Sleeping in the foetal position as steadily moving hands without rhythm or agenda; fumbled through the sheets to find you. Interrupting your thoughts. You watching the world go by through a microscopic lens. Before he was pulling you against him and lulling you to a welcomed sleep.

Tours of Europe. Sight seeing under hidden cloak of masks and guards. The Eiffel Tower standing in prominence around a large garden park. Unable to hold him like you wanted to or to take that cliché photo of a stolen kiss in the foreground. The Temple of Zeus, looking out over the mountain top to the streets of Athens below at sunset. Casting oranges, purples and golds into the sky. Spending the moment together, but not how you wanted. Not how you craved. Walking the streets of Amsterdam, admiring the flowing water of the river Amstel. Bicycles with tinkling bells that adorned your ears. Quiet. Quaint. Light touches and feeble displays of watered-down affection. Pretending to be, nothing but friends. It was hard. There was no doubt. Being the secret girlfriend of one of the most famous K-pop idols in the world was gruelling; heart wrenching. Wanting just to be. Without stolen glances or whispers. To be with one another, regardless of consequence. 

But in the night, when pretence of ‘just friends’ was disregarded; Thrown within piles of discarded clothes. He would hold you in exhilarating ways. Making your heart stop and run as if in tandem. On repeat. Forever. Light touches no longer feather like as strong hands smoothed hair from your face and lips connected with yours in passion so fierce your lips would pray to bleed. Pray to crumble apart under the sheer pressure. The weight of his own, cracked; against yours. Wanton and excruciating. Muffled groans of your name whittled into your skin as you would cry for him. In ways one could only imagine. Pressed against you so your skin would suffocate in his own. Hands held with dedicated influence as bodies mould as one. 

But after all was done. Sweat cold to the touch as tangles of limbs tangled their way into crisp white hotel sheets instead. Held in the moment. Not wanting to let you go. Hands spearing through your hair as eyes glassy, stared deep into your soul. No words were uttered, only breath shared. Moments like this is what you cherished. Wistfulness overwhelming you. There was nowhere else in the world you would rather be. From the deepest depths of your heart, your soul belonged to him and him only. Though your mind; a woeful friend in your darkest moments and a constant shadow in joy, would often voice its unwanted thoughts of whether this was enough. Whether it was enough to live happily with him, but irrevocably without him. Happily in secret.  But were you happy?

Never one to brandish your personal life on the highest billboards. A secret life seemed fine to you. But as time went on and appreciation was questioned. Affection shunted into the darkness. Your thoughts wandered into the unholy depths of your hell. A rabbit warren of twists and tunnels. Doubt. Jealousy. Questions of Self-worth. These thoughts followed you to every concert, as he would look out to see thousands of adoring fans. A gloomy cloud that hung over you. Over every cup of coffee, a faltering smile. Clawing at your chest in small bursts as you found yourself awake. Again. Silence for everyone but you as the warren would flood with hopelessness. 

It was then he found you that morning. Light not even breaching the horizon as you sat, gazing into nothingness. The void that was your heart. Wholly consumed by him and the fear of losing him. The fear of him drifting away like the cherry blossoms floating along the river Amstel. A cursory touch found your restless form in the early hours. An incoherent mumble of your name as sleep filled eyes fluttered open delicately to look vacantly at you. Engaged with the sudden knowledge of your dazed state. 

“Tink.” He mumbled. Affectionate nickname travelling through sheets to greet your troubled form.  

“You’re awake?” he would ask.

You hummed non committedly as he shuffled closer to you. Hands on your thigh soothingly. In comfort as his dreary eyes assessed you. Planting one kiss on your thigh. Then a second. The lip-smacking sound donned with nothing but tenderness and contentment.

“What’s up? Tell me.” 

No pretences could be grasped at here. No excuses as to why you looked sullenly into his eyes, shaking with contained emotions. He grabbed your small hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly; urging you to go on. You mustered every bit of strength within you to ask the question that toppled from your lips moments later and once you had, you realised everything would be brought to light and you could no longer hide in the shadows; the deepest caverns of your desires. 

“Do you love me?” 

Silence befell the room, his brows furrowed as he forced himself to sit up in front of you. Hand still in yours, unwavering; constant. A reminder of your tether to him. 

“Of course I do, you know I love you. More than anything.” He mumbled, his hand smoothing over your messed head of hair. 

Fingers placed on your jaw as his thumb soothed circles on your cheek. A kiss placed delicately, full of purpose on your forehead. Looking back into your hooded eyes as he ran his other thumb along your knuckles. Only your breathing could be heard within the room. Both calm and collected although, in the way that he looked at you, mirroring your upset. You felt yourself gasping for breath.

“Do you not feel loved?” 

The words crumbled your refrain from showing your emotions. A rogue tear had slipped from your eye and he effortlessly caught it with the pad of his thumb. A small whimper sounded from your lips before you were enveloped into his arms. No words said as he held you. Held you until the world stopped spinning and everything stopped being overwhelming. Your face resting in the crook of his neck, his scent that brought you solace. Peeled oranges and coffee on a rainy Sunday morning. Keeping you calm as he held you in silence. His grip tight on you as if you would slip away, never to be found again. 

A mumble of words. “I’m here. I’ll always be here. I’m so sorry.” 

Silence. 

“Please stay.” 

Your heart broke at hearing his words. Hearing his silent worry for you. The same worry you had been holding in for months. Lingering at every grace of his hand. Every kiss. Would it be the last time you would feel his lips against yours? The last touch? The last time you’d see his endearing smile; all gums and not much else. All the while he felt the same. Fleeting glances your way to make sure you were still with him. By his side. Would it be the last time he could run his fingers through your hair? The last kiss pressed to your skin in the dark of the night? He craved all that was you in every waking moment. In his sleep he would hold you close to him like his most prized possession. He pushed everyone away apart from the boys and you. You stayed. You stayed for him. Now he felt everything falling apart. 

Never hearing your reply, just broken sobs as he could feel tears threaten to spill from his own eyes. Finally parting from you. He gazed into your eyes, puffy and sad from crying. Something he had only seen you do once before. 

“I don’t know.” 

He felt his world cave in. was it not enough anymore? Just to love you? In any way that he could? In that moment he cursed his job for not letting you be. For you both to just be, in love. Happily. Healthily. Openly. He knew how much it hurt to never hold hands in public. Confined to closed hotel rooms and dark alleyways where he would steal a kiss. A need he had been carrying with him the whole day. Smiling as he would finally feel your lips against his. Bracing you against an old brick wall. Unjudging and unyielding like his love. 

“I miss my home. My family. My friends” You began to stutter, feeling your emotions drown you as you tried to swim your way to the surface for breath. 

“Yoongi, I love you but I don’t think I can love you in secret anymore. Not when I’m on my own.” 

He heard your heartfelt words wretch through his chest. Like a sincere punch straight to his gut. Precise but untamed. Thoughts rushed to mind in all the ways he could keep you here, with him. Get you to stay. Every idea falling flat as he looked at your face. Now tear stained cheeks and furrowed brows. Flushed and hopeless. Not knowing where else to turn. Being forced into a decision you never wanted to make.

“Okay...I love you, but okay.”  He said solemnly, admitting defeat. 

His words shocked you, just like that, it was over? He saw the shock and sudden hurt on your face before he continued; practically straddling you now as he pressed both of his hands to cup your face.

“Don’t think for 1 second I’m letting you go that easily. I fucking love you and I can’t risk losing you.” He nuzzled his nose against yours before kissing away your tears. Kissing your closed eyelids before kissing your temples then down to your nose. Finally landing a firm solidifying kiss on your lips.

“I’ll let you go on 1 condition.” He looked into your eyes. Searching for something in them. Something to soothe his aching heart. 

Your eyes fluttered to meet his, no more than a couple of inches away. Eyes silently urging him to continue. 

“Come back to me, please?” you could hear his voice break and you could feel your heart tearing in two. Tearing away from the cavity it once called home in your chest. You knew in that moment, the way his eyes searched yours, bed head bordering on crazy with dark strands falling into his eyes. He looked at you with adoration and hope. Love and kindness. Your heart belonged to him and only him. A sob wracked your bones as you nodded, barely containing the urge to kiss him as you pulled him against you. He kissed back fervently. Your hands quickly hanging from the nape of his neck as his hands splayed out across your ribs. Pulling your heated skin against his own. Mouths moving as one with desire and wanton need to be with one another. Never to part. His lips, mumbled against yours, once. Twice. Before-

“I’ll fix this. All of it. No more secrets. I just want to be with you. Completely.” 

You nodded in agreement to his statement, chest constricting at sudden emotions you had been holding back that rapt against your chest, begging to be set free. Lips connecting again and again as hands wandered and grabbed at one another. You found him above you as you familiarised yourselves within the sheets. Holding one another so close; breathing each other in. you chuckled dryly as he rolled off of you, breathing laboured as he glanced your way, meeting his eyes. Swollen lips from kissing, his tongue sliding over the seam of his lip before a small smile graced his features. Close mouthed but sincere. 

“I just need to go home. Then I’ll come back.” You encouraged him. 

You looked at him, looking at you. White sheets, meeting his pale skin. Old t shirt hanging off to the right slightly, showing cool expanse of collar bone and his necklace you got him that one time he had been staring at it when you visited an old street market in Spain. Even though he said he wasn’t; repeatedly but still smiled like the lovable dork when you presented him with it later that day. Dark eyes, still ebbed with sleep lingering in the corners; were shining and strands of dark hair graced his forehead, grazing his eyebrows slightly. His lips, parted with the odd swipe of his tongue for moisture. Hand appearing from under sheets to flourish the back of his knuckle against your cheekbone. Stealing a quick kiss on it as it passed your lips. 

“I promise.” You whispered; afraid the word would be cursed if uttered at any greater volume.

A light began peering through the crack in the hotel room curtains, signalling the sun rising and a new day beginning. The light; feasting upon his form. Illuminating a profile of his face in golden light; basking in it. You were enamoured and ardently consumed by all that was him. In every lifetime. For the rest of your life time. You were his. He was yours. 

Taking your hand in his, he kissed it once. “I’ll be here…Waiting.” 

© sunnysidejoon - 2021 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.

Hope you guys enjoyed! I take requests so please do ask 😊

Love Always

Mac 🧡💜

[exoticarmyofcrowns]

sing for me | kth

pairing: taehyung x fem!reader

summary: you have been living with your roommate for well over a year and the unresolved sexual tension between the two of you finally comes to a head

genre: romance, smut (VERY 18+ not for the littles), roommates au

warnings: masturbation, vouyerism??, fingering, thigh riding, attempted dirty talk, breath play, slight power play???, excessive use of the word “baby” and other pet names, kinda awkward discussion of feelings thrown in bc my characters never shut up when i want them to get it on sorry

word count: ~6.6k

a/n: hello~ um... i have no explanation for this. i am like half ashamed and half proud of this??? idek man. all i know is that i couldn’t have done it without @sugaerie​ so thank you so much my queen i love uuuu

You step through the door of your apartment, feet practically screaming with relief as you kick off your shoes.

Work was really kicking your ass lately. Add that together with the stress of grad school and you had a deadly concoction not even your favorite tea and copious amount of ibuprofen could protect you from. Your job as a cashier was pretty easy, you can’t lie, but constantly standing and running around the store did a number on your poor feet. Thank god you had weekends off—a perk of having worked there so long you practically had the manager wrapped around your pinky when it came time for scheduling—so you could sleep in for once.

Tossing your keys on the counter, you spare a glance at the clock above the stove as you walk into your small kitchen. It’s about a quarter to midnight. You figure Taehyung is still out with his friends, hitting up one of the bars downtown.

You sigh heavily at the thought of your roommate. Not because anything wrong with him. Taehyung is nothing short of incredible. He’s sweet and kind, always greeting you with the most adorable boxy smile that makes you feel like the only person in the universe. People gravitate toward him just as easily as he draws them in, a natural warmth that instantly puts others at ease in his presence. He’s generous and thoughtful, never missing an opportunity to surprise you at work with a coffee or just to see you. Those shifts are your favorites and maybe you’re a little spoiled because you often find yourself glancing at the entrance more often than not, trying to see if you can spot his dark, curly head from your register.

Not to mention Taehyung is incredibly stunning. Long dark curls frame his face in the most intimidatingly beautiful way it’s often hard to look away from him. He’s got piercing dark eyes that can stare right into your soul but that also crinkle beautifully at the corners when he smiles. His fashion sense is killer, obscure brands and fabrics lining his closet almost like a museum. You’re not sure how but he can wear just about anything and still manage to look like he just stepped off a runway.

He works as a freelance photographer and has quite the sizeable following on social media. He’s passionate about his work and it shows in the quality of his photos. You know next to nothing about photography but even you can see that the beauty and skill with which he wields his camera is nothing short of magical. Commissions are not hard to come by for him, though you’re more than positive it has just as much to do with Taehyung himself as it does his beautiful portfolio.

No, there is absolutely nothing wrong with Taehyung.

Only that he’s perfect and you have a massive crush on him.

Exhaling tiredly, you run a heavy hand down your face. Anyone else would be ecstatic about having such a wonderful, attractive roommate but you know things like this can only end in disaster. More than anything, Taehyung is your friend—your best friend, you would argue—and involving feelings into your relationship can only end poorly. The whole roommates thing just adds another layer of complication that is better left alone. You don’t shit where you eat, after all.

But it’s difficult. Taehyung is just so nice and likeable it’s unreal. You often find your thoughts wandering to dangerous places when you both are curled up on the couch together during movie nights, blankets and pillows and snacks scattered all over the living room, while he curls his body around you without a second thought. He’s naturally tactile, you try to remind yourself in an effort to calm your racing pulse but then he’ll laugh at something happening in the movie, his cheeks plumping up adorably, and you know you’re a lost cause as you feel your heart melt all over again.

It’s getting increasingly difficult to ignore your feelings for your roommate and you know something has to give eventually. In the last couple of weeks, there seemed to have been a shift in the air whenever you were around each other. Taehyung was still your adorable and playful friend but the hugs seemed longer, the touches more tender and lingering. You even think you’ve caught him staring at you a few times, a strange new darkness simmering beneath the chocolate irises.

Flushing with embarrassment and shame, you bury your face into your hands. Of course not. You’re just being ridiculously optimistic. You pull out a clean glass from the cupboard and fill it with water from the sink, hoping to dampen the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Cleaning up, you decide to pamper yourself with a long hot shower complete with a nice sugar scrub and an in-shower face mask. You even spring for a shave, already excited for the feel of your sheets against the smooth, moisturized expanse of your legs. It’s the little things.

You hum lightly under your breath, already feeling the residual tension from the week bleed out as you gently massage your favorite lotion into your skin. Finishing up, you feel much more relaxed and so wonderfully clean you can’t help the smile that graces your lips as you move to head back to your room.

“___.”

It’s faint, so faint you think you imagine it but it still makes you freeze as you step out of the bathroom. Glancing down the short hallway that leads to your room, you blink for several seconds and wait to see if you hear it again. When nothing happens, you feel your heart resume its normal pace before rolling your eyes at yourself and continuing on to your room.

“___.”

This time it’s unmistakable and you can’t help the way the sound of your name makes you jump in fear. Now you’re in full-on panic mode and you anxiously scan the apartment. Your eyes catch on the faint light emanating from Taehyung’s room and you relax slightly. How had you not realized he was home already?

Your relief quickly morphs into confusion. Why would Taehyung be calling for you? Did he need something? Was he hurt? Stifling your self-induced panic, you quietly make your way over to his door. Despite having been in his room multiple times before, something feels off now. Almost like you shouldn’t be there. You can’t quite put your finger on it but something about the whole situation has you on edge…

You shake it off. It’s fine. You’ll just casually peep through the slightly ajar door and make sure everything is okay before marching off to bed to enjoy your evening in. Simple as that, right?

Wrong.

Whatever you thought you were going to see past the small opening of his door doesn’t hold a candle to the image that will undoubtedly be burned into your memory forever.

There, laying casually on his bed, is Taehyung. That in and of itself is not out of the ordinary. Except for the fact that he is naked save for the boxers he normally wears to bed, with a hand pulling desperately at his painfully red length.

It’s suddenly hard to breathe, air catching so violently in your throat you nearly choke audibly. Slapping a hand over your mouth and nose, you will yourself to calm down enough to take in the scene before you. Taehyung’s long legs are splayed almost elegantly across his sheets, deliciously thick thigh muscles clenching and unclenching from his ministrations. His hand glides skillfully over his cock, alternating between slow, languid tugs and fast, unyielding strokes. He throws his head back before tucking his chin in briefly, tongue flicking out to wet his lips before he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. A hiss of pleasure melts into a throaty groan and heat pools rapidly in the pit of your stomach.

A voice in the back of your mind screams for you to get away while you can. You shouldn’t be here. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve lusted after your roommate, how long you’ve wanted to push him against any flat surface and have your way with him or let him have his way with you. It doesn’t matter that you want to do couple-y things with him too, like hold his hand and kiss those soft, pink lips because you are roommates—friends—and a fling like that could only end in disaster, especially when he doesn’t feel the same way. It doesn’t matter and you have to leave now before—

“___,” Taehyung groans once again, hands caressing up his lean stomach and you’re distracted by the way his muscles ripple with the attention. “Are you just going to stand there or are you gonna come help me?”

Something between a squeak and a cough leaves your throat in that instant and you wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole. You can’t bring yourself to move for a good second but Taehyung lets out another low moan and your feet move of their own accord into the bedroom.

If you thought he was beautiful before, he is absolutely glowing in the soft light of his bedside lamp. A light sheen of sweat coats his skin and you are overwhelmed with the urge to lick a stray bead that travels down his neck. Your breath is coming out in short pants and you try to subtly squeeze your thighs together to ease the ache. This does not go unnoticed.

“Hello, darling.” The words leave his lips in a low purr and a shiver zips down your spine. He’s smirking at you, hands still gripping his length but his pace has slowed significantly as if giving you a show. He seems perfectly comfortable despite the lack clothing, completely unfazed by your blatant staring. Like he wants you to look at him and only him. The thought has your face burning.

“T-Tae, what are you doing?”

“Isn’t is obvious, sweetheart? Surely I don’t need to spell it out for you, hm?” A particularly wet pass over his dick has him sucking in a gasp and you find you can’t look away. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and Taehyung fixates on the motion, pupils blown wide and darkening further.

“Although you haven’t picked up on my blatant flirting so maybe I should.”

That snaps you out of your reverie. “Flirting?” You hate the way your voice sounds so weak and vulnerable but it can’t be helped.

“I haven’t exactly been subtle, ___. I’ve been—fuck—I’ve been trying to drop hints for the last few weeks now, hell, the last few months but you never n-notice.” He tugs at his bottom lip with his teeth again before releasing a heavy sigh.

Your head is spinning. This Taehyung is so different from the one you’re used to—yes, he’s still the same incorrigible flirt, but where he is usually giggly and playful he is now sensual and downright sinful. You think back over the past few weeks, the lingering touches, the casual hugs. Taehyung has always been touchy but they had felt charged with something else entirely. It’s good to know you hadn’t been making that up.

“I…” You truly don’t know what to say for yourself. “I didn’t know,” you murmur, feeling very very small all of a sudden.

Taehyung immediately stills at your tone and misinterprets it as discomfort.  “Oh. Oh god, ___, I’m so sorry.” Wrenching his hand away from himself, he scrambles on the bed, looking up at you with earnest, remorseful eyes. The waistband of his boxers snap shut in his frenzy and you almost mourn the loss of the desire-tinted skin. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just thought that maybe you…maybe you felt the same?”

You’re so taken aback by the complete 180 he’s made that your response gets caught in the whirlwind of your thoughts, This is more like the Taehyung you know, kind and considerate, and you almost forget the situation you’re in. Almost.

“N-No!” you stammer, eager to assuage his uncertainty. “I mean, yes, I-I…” You close your eyes tightly. “I do…feel the same.”

The way Taehyung looks at you after your stunted confession has your heart auditioning for a marathon and goosebumps prickling across your skin. You may as well have just hung all the stars in the sky with the amount of adoration swimming in his warm irises.

“I’m glad,” he grins brightly at you and you can’t help but smile back. You bite your lip out of habit and the smile fades from his face as he watches you.

Swallowing thickly, he rasps, “___, c-can I kiss you? Please.”

The desperation in his voice is not something you expect and a jolt of electricity zings down your spine. Dazed, you nod. That’s all Taehyung needs before he practically launches himself to his feet to grab you by the waist and pull you to him. His hand—the other hand that was not touching himself—cradles your face as he bends down to brush your noses together. A moment passes, Taehyung staring into your eyes to give you room to pull away. When you don’t, he smiles briefly to himself before surging forward to connect your lips.

The kiss is soft and warm, exchanging only the slightest bit of pressure as if you both are worried that you’ll frighten the other. Which is ridiculous, you think, since you have yet to run away. You bounce up on your toes to alleviate the reach for Taehyung and kiss him harder. He hums appreciatively as he nips at you, the sound tingling from your lips and down the length of your body. You shiver in his hold and move to wrap your arms around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. The distance disappears between you two and you feel his arousal poking at your stomach. You break the kiss to look down between you, bottom lip trapped between your teeth.

Glancing up at Taehyung from beneath your eyelashes, you marvel at how positively wrecked he looks. He’s still damp with sweat but his mouth is slightly swollen from your kisses and his eyes are so blown out they’re practically black with desire. You feel yourself clench hopelessly as the blood rushes loudly in your ears.

“Can I—Can I watch you?”

You’re just as surprised as Taehyung is to hear those words leave your mouth but you’re not quite thinking straight, not when he looks like that and you finally have him in a way you never thought you would. It’s overwhelming, to say the least, and you want to savor every moment together.

Taehyung doesn’t seem to be faring much better, the request making his breathing turn heavy as he leans down to rest his forehead against yours. “Are you sure, ___? Are you absolutely sure? Because once we start, I don’t think I can stop.”

Peeking up at him coyly, you respond, “Who says I’ll want you to?”

A beat. Then, Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut and practically growls at your words. His arm tightens around your waist and crushes your body to him as if trying to mold you together. You love it.

“Then sit back and enjoy the show.” His lips quirk into a lascivious smirk before crashing your mouths together once again. This kiss is different than the previous one, not one bit of hesitation lingering now. Taehyung’s tongue licks along the seam of your mouth insistently and your legs turn to jelly as you open up for him.

The kiss is over too soon but before you can mourn the loss of his lips, he pushes you down onto the bed and resumes his spot against the pillows. Tugging on his boxers, Taehyung pulls them down to discard them somewhere behind you. Heat pulses through you at the sight of his exposed flesh and your thighs rub together once again.

Taking himself in hand, Taehyung spreads his legs and begins a torturously slow pace. “You have no idea how long I’ve dreamt of this.” All the air in your lungs leaves you at the confession. You can’t even think clearly, much less think up a semi-coherent response, but he doesn’t seem deterred by your silence.

“I’ve always—shit—I’ve always wanted t-to kiss that pretty little mouth of yours, ravage it until you can’t think. Your mouth, your neck, anything I could get my lips on.” Your eyes eagerly take in the sight of the milky substance beading at the tip of his cock and making his passes even messier.

“Ah, fuck, I-I wondered what kind of sounds you would make. If you would gasp and sigh or if I could make you scream.” He twists his wrist as he glides over the head of his length and he gasps out loud, his breathing rough and ragged and oh so lovely.

“I’ve thought about what it would take you to make you beg for it.”

A whimper escapes your lips before you can stop it and heat blooms across your cheeks. Taehyung stills for a moment before resuming with a smirk.

“Oh? Does my baby like the sound of that? Of me making you beg for my cock?” You nod, stunned and aroused beyond belief. It’s as if your brain has short-circuited and all you can think about is the fantasy that Taehyung so beautifully illustrates for you.

“Dirty girl,” he chuckles, tonguing the corner of his lips. “I should have guessed at what a desperate little thing you’d be. Asking me to stroke my dick while you watch.” He tuts playfully, eyes never leaving yours.

Breathing has become steadily more difficult and you’re acutely aware of the dampness between your legs. You want nothing more than to relieve the ache but you’re so transfixed on the beautiful man laid out in front of you that you can do nothing more than squeeze your thighs together.

“Look at you,” Taehyung’s eyes rake down your form, taking in your lust-darkened gaze and heaving chest before lingering on the apex of your tensed thighs. “I bet you’re dripping, aren’t you? So eager to take my cock that I could just slip right in if I wanted to, hm?” Again you nod, fingers twitching as you grip the sheets beneath you. He laughs lowly and the sound washes over you and settles deep in your stomach.

“God, I bet you’d taste so sweet on my tongue. I would spend hours just buried between your legs if you’d let me. Every time you prance around the apartment in those scraps you call shorts, I just want to bend you over the couch and fuck you until you can’t walk. Would you like that, baby girl? Want me to sink my cock into that sweet cunt of yours? Make it mine, over and over again?”

You’re practically panting now, desperate sounds ripping themselves from your throat as Taehyung stares at you intensely, hand never faltering on his swollen erection. He seems to take pity on you because in the next moment, he murmurs a deep, “Come here, baby.”

Snapping into action, you nearly stumble over yourself in your haste to be close to him. He smiles, fondness flickering in his eyes beneath the lust at your eagerness. You crawl forward until you are settled on your knees between his legs. A feeling of shyness settles over you—absurd, given the circumstances—and you find yourself unable to meet his gaze. A hand winds around your waist and pulls you to him, forcing you to straddle one of his thighs. You feel a finger slip under your chin to coax you into looking at him. When you do, Taehyung offers a sweet smile.

“You still with me, sweetheart?” You go to nod but Taehyung clicks his tongue. “I need to hear you say it, ___.”

“Yes.” You’re proud that your voice doesn’t shake. “I want you, Tae.”

The finger on your chin turns into a forceful grip as he crashes your mouths together once again. It’s messy and desperate and you can’t help the loud moan that Taehyung swallows gleefully. You welcome his tongue into your mouth and when you give it a pointed suck, he lets out an answering groan low in his throat.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he pants against your cheek, planting wet kisses down your jaw and to the length of your neck. His lips meet the collar of your shirt but before he can even ask, you’re wrenching it off your body and onto the ground.

Taehyung seems at a loss for the first time since you’d walked into his room and you revel in the swell of pride that overtakes you. He can’t help but ogle greedily at the newly-exposed skin and you feel powerful knowing that you have his undivided attention.

Shaking himself out of his daze, Taehyung places a gentle kiss right above your heart before slowly making his way lower. The gesture is not lost on you and you find yourself melting further into his touch as your hand wraps around to tangle in the hairs at the nape of his neck. You can feel two hands ghost up your sides to tease the undersides of your breasts and you inhale sharply, chest pushing up into his mouth. Taehyung breathes a laugh onto your skin before cupping the soft flesh and placing almost reverent kisses upon their stiff peaks.

“Tae, please,” you whimper, eyes squeezing shut at the onslaught of sensations he is inflicting on you.

“Hmm, I like hearing you beg for me.” His tongue flicks against your pebbled nipple and you cry out, unable to hold back anymore. “My desperate baby girl.”

“T-Tae, ah, please don’t tease.”

“Don’t tease?” He punctuates the question with a sharp squeeze. “But you’ve been teasing me for well over a year, no? Walking around the apartment practically naked, with nothing but a t-shirt or these poor excuse for shorts.” Taehyung’s hands leave a lingering pinch before gliding down the length of your torso to the hem of your sleep shorts. Hooking a finger inside, he snaps the elastic back in place and you gasp. “No panties?” He asks in wonder, eyes fixed on your lower half.

Swallowing, you murmur, “I-I don’t usually wear them to bed.”

He lets out a throaty groan. “Fuck, you really—” He cuts himself off with another sharp exhale, head tipping backward as he squeezes his eyes shut as if in pain. Something nudges the side of your thigh and you look down at forgotten length between you, swollen and nearly purple. As if in a daze, you reach for the turgid flesh and let the tips of your fingers graze the head tentatively. Taehyung’s eyes snap open to look at you in shock and you freeze.

“Do that again. Please.”

You can hardly deny him when he looks so fucked out beneath you and your hand begins a tentative pace, stroking his dick like you had witnessed him do earlier.

“That’s it, atta girl,” he groans into your shoulder, kissing the skin almost absentmindedly. “Such a good girl for me.”

Your stomach plummets at his words, inner muscles clenching almost painfully. You’re so turned on your shorts are most likely unsalvageable but seeing Taehyung so wrecked and because of you makes it all worthwhile.

Keeping up the pace on his cock, you don’t even notice your hips begin to lower onto his thigh and rock down against him until he sits up from where he’d begun to slouch in pleasure, leg knocking up into your dripping heat.

“Fuck, baby. Look at you, grinding on my thigh like that.” His words send your heart stuttering in your chest. “Your poor little cunt has been neglected, hm? You’ve been such a good girl for me, stroking my cock and getting me ready. I think you deserve a reward.”

Taehyung grips your hips with bruising force and helps you grind harder onto his leg. The drag of your shorts against your swollen clit is a little too harsh but the sheer dampness of the fabric makes the glide much easier.

“I can feel you dripping onto my leg. You’re soaked, baby.” You’re delirious at this point, incoherent noises spilling from your lips as you work yourself over Taehyung’s thigh. It’s not long before you feel the pleasure mounting within you, hips pistoning back and forth even faster.

“That’s it, baby girl. Use me. Make yourself cum on my thigh. Get yourself nice and ready for my cock.” His hands run soothingly across your skin, sending your nerves on fire. You whine as you feel your orgasm approach with each pass of your hips.

“Come on, babe. Give it to me. Let me feel you cum all over me.”

With a strangled cry, you buck against Taehyung uncontrollably as you finally release all over his leg. You curl into him, hands tangling into his hair and tugging in order to keep yourself grounded. Your hips gradually slow as you ride out your high and you find it a struggle to catch your breath. The two of you stay like that for a few moments, letting the aftershocks wash over you.

“Oh, ___,” Taehyung murmurs in wonder. Almost sheepishly, you peek up at him from beneath your eyelashes to see him staring at you with such unadulterated reverence and want that your heart skips a beat. “You did so well, baby girl,” he rasps, lips ghosting over your face tenderly.

Face warm, you try to redirect the attention to him and begin placing gentle kisses along the length of his neck. Taehyung tilts his head back, eyelids fluttering prettily at your ministrations. Smirking to yourself, you trail your hand teasingly down the length of his chest to make your way down to his dick but he stops you with a firm hand around your wrist. Before you can even open your mouth to question him, he’s already flipped you over onto your back.

“Hmm, still so eager for my cock.” He nips playfully at your bottom lip, laughing when you move to chase him. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, we’re getting there. I have to get you ready first.”

Two of his fingers brush the swell of your mouth and you open immediately to take them in. Taehyung inhales sharply as you give them a pointed suck, eyes narrowing slightly to let you know that you will certainly pay for that later. The thought sends a shot of arousal to your core.

Taehyung removes his fingers and wastes no time in bringing them to the apex of your thighs. He makes quick work of your soiled shorts and suddenly, he’s all you can feel. A single digit swipes the length of your slit to circle around your clit, eliciting a hiss from the both of you.

“Oh, baby, you’re so wet,” Tae groans, in a trance. “All for me.”

He wasn’t really speaking to you but you nod anyway. “Yes, Tae. All for you.”

Eyes snapping to yours, he sinks one finger into your weeping heat and watches your face for any signs of discomfort. You tense slightly before relaxing and sending him a reassuring smile as a signal that he can continue. He pumps his finger in and out, letting you get used to the sensation before gently slipping in another. Scissoring the digits, Taehyung furrows his brows and bites his lip as he forces himself to be patient.

You, on the other hand, are having a much harder time controlling yourself. Soft whimpers escape you with every pump of Taehyung’s fingers. One particularly potent curl has you gasping for air as an animalistic growl tears itself from your throat, hips bucking harshly upwards.

“Gah, Tae—please,” you pant, hands flailing wildly for something to hold onto before settling on his hair.

“Anything, darling.” Taehyung inserts yet another finger and you begin to really feel the stretch, so much that it nearly becomes uncomfortable. A small noise of discomfort makes the man above you pause but he mouths at your temple reassuringly. “I know, baby, I know. But I have to make sure you’re ready for me.”

Right then, he curls his fingers just as he did before and you’re seeing stars again. He places adoring kisses along your jaw before dipping for another taste of your mouth. You eagerly accept him, opening fully to him as your hips roll along with the rhythm of his fingers.

Breaking away, you pant, “I’m ready, Tae.”

“Are you sure?” Looking deeply into your eyes, he must find what he’s looking for because he nods lightly and kisses you breathless. He reaches over to his nightstand and rummages in his drawer. The crinkle of a wrapper hits your ears, making your face warm slightly as the reality of the situation hits you full force. You were really doing this. The fact that the man that you’ve pined after for so long is here with you—actually likes you—is so surreal you’re not quite sure how to process it but you’ll be damned if you didn’t enjoy every second of it.

Once he has rolled the condom on, Taehyung moves upward to cup your face between his hands. “Before we begin, are you absolutely s—”

“Tae, I swear to god if you do not get inside me in the next three seconds I will flip us over and do it myself.”

Taehyung blinks before chuckling. “There will be plenty of time for that, sweetheart. But for right now…” His smile turns sinister, prompting anticipation to swirl deliciously in your stomach. “I’m calling the shots.”

He takes himself in hand and rubs the tip up and down the length of your folds. Your eyes flutter when Taehyung collects your pooling arousal, making a complete mess of you.

When he pushes in, your mouth drops open in a silent gasp. He’s big—of course he is—bigger now that he’s entering you and you can’t deny that the stretch is more than welcome. You glance up at Taehyung’s face and are pleased to see that he looks just as wrecked as you feel. He locks eyes with you, dark irises burning with lust but also something deeper. Something…soft and warm. The thought sends your heart pounding in your chest.

As he bottoms out, Taehyung makes sure to probe your face for any signs of discomfort. He doesn’t find any and tentatively thrusts into you, eyes never leaving yours as he does. You gasp, nerves tingling as a whine tears itself from your throat, soft and breathy.

“That’s it, angel,” Taehyung pants in your ear. “Sing for me. Let me know just how good I make you feel.”

You clench helplessly, reveling in the low grunt it earns from the man above you. He begins to pick up the pace, hips snapping fiercely against yours so that the only sound is the harsh slap of skin against skin mingling with your eager breaths.

“Such a tight little cunt, even after you’ve already cum once.” His voice is even raspier with the force of his thrusts and you practically keen at the sound. “I wonder how many times I can make you lose it.”

You sob, hips rising desperately to meet his. “P-Please,” you cry, unsure what it is you’re asking for but it doesn’t matter because he props himself up to get a better angle, looking down at your writhing form.

“Such a desperate little baby.” He punctuates the pet name with a particularly harsh snap of his hips and your eyes roll into the back of your head. You can already feel your second orgasm rising within you, all you need is a little push.

“You know,” Taehyung begins, concentrating his thrusts to a slow roll, “I’ve always been curious about one thing.”

Before you can ask what it is, you see his hand snake between you, gliding across your stomach, between the valley of your breasts, to settle at the base of your throat. Your eyes widen of their own accord, breath stuttering as you realize the intention. Taehyung’s eyes hold a silent question and you nod, albeit a bit desperately, prompting him to wrap his long fingers steadily around the lowest part of your neck.

“Fucking filthy,” he whispers in awe, gaze alternating between your face and the sight of his hand wrapped around your pretty neck. He thinks he could watch this forever. Squeezing experimentally, Taehyung watches with utter delight at how quickly you fall apart under his grip. Your hands scramble to claw at his arm, not to pull it away but to keep him locked in place.

“Poor baby just wants to be choked and fucked senseless, is that it?” You nod jerkily, pleasure fogging your mind and making you delirious. You couldn’t talk even if you tried but the way your hips buck up into his needily tell him all he needs to know.

“So honest,” he chuckles, increasing the pressure slightly. “Good girls get what they want.” Taehyung pulls his hips back, so far that only the tip remains inside you, before snapping back in full-force. The pace he sets is brutal and you can feel his hip brushing relentlessly against your clit.

“T-Tae,” you gasp, stomach tightening as a particularly well-timed thrust has you seeing stars. “C-Close.”

“Is baby girl gonna cum?” You nod frantically, eyes focusing and unfocusing on his face. “Come on, baby. Give me one more. I know you can do it. My desperate. Little. Slut.”

Taehyung tightens his grip even further and that’s the end for you. A scream lodges itself in your throat as the coil in your lower stomach snaps, sending you spiraling into the most powerful orgasm you’ve had in a while. Taehyung releases his hand from your neck abruptly, the rush of air prolonging your pleasure to the point you think you might pass out.

Above you, you hear Taehyung groan gutterly at the vice-like grip your walls have trapped him in. “Fuck, princess, I can feel you squeezing. You’re gonna make me cum.”

Still breathless, you fight against the fog clouding your brain. “Please, Tae. Cum inside me, please. I-I want it so bad.”

“Such a filthy little thing,” he stutters, breaths sounding labored in your ears as he gets closer to his own climax. “Gonna f-fill you up so good. Make this cunt mine.”

“I’m yours,” you gasp, tightening your muscles one last time around him. That seems to be the end for him because before you know it, Taehyung is moaning into your shoulder.

“All. Fucking. Mine,” he growls as he snaps his hips, once, twice, before stilling inside you.

It seems to last hours but Taehyung eventually collapses onto his forearms, careful not to crush you under his weight. You both take a minute to catch your breath, enjoying the feeling of closeness that follows. Eventually, he pulls back, carefully slipping out of you to tie off the condom and toss it in the wastebasket. You wince but relax immediately after, snuggling further into the soft down of his comforter.

Taehyung smiles adoringly as he makes his way back to the bed, heart flipping at how cute you look in his bed. Almost as if you belong there. He hesitates as he gets to the edge, fearing for a moment whether or not it was alright to join you. Those fears are put to rest as you blink sleepily up at him, arms tiredly reaching for him. Relieved, he snuggles in next to you and gathers you in his arms. It’s silent for a moment as you both enjoy being wrapped up in each other.

“Since when?” you finally break the silence, tracing mindless patterns across his chest.

Taehyung inhales sharply. He knows exactly what you mean. Still, he feigns ignorance. “What?”

You close your eyes for a moment, burying your face further into his chest. “Since when have you liked me?”

“Since when have you liked me?” he shoots back and you pinch the skin on his ribs. He yelps before you both dissolve into a fit of giggles.

“I asked you first,” you whine, risking a glance up at his face. Taehyung is already staring down at you fondly, warm gaze melting into your own.

“Since the very first moment,” he whispers softly. You almost laugh, except his face is deadly serious. It’s suddenly hard to swallow around the lump in your throat. You stare at him in wonder—the delicate brush of his eyelashes against his cheek, the soft sweep of his sweat-dampened hair over his forehead, the gentle curve of his lips as he smiles at you. You clear your throat, glancing away as a pleasant warmth settles over your cheeks.

“That’s not an answer.”

He laughs breathily in your ear and you fight a shiver. “Okay, okay. Well the first time I realized it was the day you had come back from your shift after you had switched managers.”

You balk. “Are you serious?” You remember that day. Management had decided to move your favorite supervisor over to the men’s department while you remained stuck in shoes. The new guy was awful—condescending, incompetent, and downright unpleasant. You had come home that day with three different bottles of wine and all the take out you could afford and practically forced Taehyung to drink with you and listen to your misery. The guy was eventually fired but the whole experience had left you with a bitter taste in your mouth.

Tae chuckles as he thinks back to that night. “Yes, I’m serious. You were about halfway through the second bottle and were practically screaming curses at the guy. It took you all of 30 minutes after dinner to fall asleep right there on the couch, somehow still complaining about that dickwad.” You snort, hand shooting up to cover your face in embarrassment. “As you talked, I realized…I could listen to you forever. And then you fell asleep, cuddling so cutely into my shoulder, and I knew I was a goner. Even though you snore.”

Your eyes, which had started watering at his heartfelt confession, widen before you regain your composure enough to hit his chest. “I do not snore.”

Taehyung winces playfully, knowing full-well that you don’t but enjoying teasing you all the same. “So, yeah. I’ve liked you for a while. And I had an inkling you felt the same.”

“Oh, yeah? What gave it away? The fact that I practically hopped on your dick?” you tease.

“Well it certainly didn’t hurt.” He winks at you and you have to stifle the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl. “But it was little things. Like how you’d blush at a compliment or if I hugged you just a bit too long. I couldn’t be sure though. Not until tonight, I guess.”

“Well,” you shift upwards, his confession instilling a confidence in you that you hadn’t known you possessed, “in case I haven’t made it abundantly clear: I like you very, very much, Kim Taehyung.”

He’s silent for a single, nerve-wracking beat before the most brilliant smile lights up his face and for the second time that night, you find yourself breathless.

“And I like you very, very much, too, ___.”

Taehyung kisses you then, slow and sweet, and you’re left thinking that you never want to be anywhere else.

© exoticarmyofcrowns 2020

[harcourtholmesii]

In This Here, Beautiful World (Part 2)

Fandoms: Team Fortress 2

Pairings: Medic X Heavy / Scout X Miss Pauling / Scout’s Ma X Spy / Soldier X Zhanna / Engineer X Original Character / Saxton Hale X Maggie

Warnings: - Threats of Violence - Violence - Gore

Words: 1849

Summary: When the world goes to shit, in order to survive, you need to be ruthless, and you need to be prepared to do whatever it takes. When nine strangers and their families come together to fight back the zombie plague, tensions will rise between them all, threatening to pull them apart and kill them from the inside-out. It’s a shitty summary, I know. ^^

Enjoy!

The afternoon lecture had always been a slow trek to the day’s end. By this time, most students were far too exhausted and unmotivated to continue their work. Majority of them just wanted to return to their dorms or go out with friends; have some time to relax and recuperate from a long day of studying.

 Mikhail didn’t often sympathise with his class, but the sluggish pace of the day had weighed him down over the hours. He felt just as tired as his class appeared to be, and beneath his eyes, he could feel the stress sinking his expression and morphing his voice to a deep mutter. He was thankful none of the class seemed to care, as it would have been an embarrassing moment of weakness.

 He cleared his throat; only a few heads turning to pay attention.

 ‘Well, it seems the day has left us behind.’ A few of the students seemed sheepish, hiding their red faces behind their books or hands. ‘Perhaps, we will end this session early, and we can pick this up tomorrow.’ He offered the way out to his students with a tired smile.

 Those that were awake, eagerly accepted.

 Students hurried to gather their notes and books, tucking them away in their bags and beginning to dart with newfound energy to the exit. They offered Mikhail a hurried ‘thank you’ as they took off, or a wave if they were too lazy to speak.

 The Russian stood up and rounded his own desk, heading up the line of pitched desks, beginning to awaken those that had crashed. A few leapt up, fuelled by the fear or worry of being scolded, but were relieved when he allowed them leave. Others took their time to awaken, dragging their whole weight out the door with his prompting.

 It wasn’t long before the lecture hall was quiet and empty, save for Mikhail himself.

 He had some paperwork he needed to complete, but he could just as easily take it home with him. He glanced up at the clock on the wall, the one that had ticked by at a snail’s pace for the last hour at least. The hour alone had felt like 12; glaringly cruel whenever one had sought comfort that the day’s end was approaching.

 The time read 3:37pm.

 He still had plenty of time before his engagement with a friend.

 He pulled his phone out of his breast pocket; the electronic seemed frighteningly fragile in his hands. It reminded him of how his students had stared at him when they first attended his classes. His size, stature and gruff, accented voice seemed to intimidate most of them when they first met him. Many had stared at his hands in particular; scarred and calloused from Mikhail’s years of work and abuse.

 Despite being a professor of literature, Mikhail seemed more the part of a hardened war veteran. It had been commented on many a time, mostly behind his back when they thought he couldn’t hear. Apparently, he scared people. Mikhail didn’t necessarily mind the thought, as being feared meant he had a modicum of respect from his students and fellow staff members.

 He tapped carefully at the little buttons on his phone, watching as the screen was lit up with numbers. Finally, he pressed the call button and brought it to his ear. He waited.

 One ring…

 Two rings…

 ‘Misha!’ He felt the air in his lungs release with his relief. He was always scared of the potential that his mother or sisters would not answer the phone. Too much had happened in their family history that he was relieved when another day went by without hassle.

 ‘мама.’

 ‘It is so good to hear from you, and so soon!’ She seemed happy. That was good. ‘You don’t normally call until you are on your way home.’

 ‘да, well, I ended class early. Students too tired to continue.’

 ‘That is a shame.’ He could almost hear the pout from the other end of the line. ‘You are very smart, Misha, and I know how you love to discuss your passion.’

 ‘I am not upset, мама. Just frustrated. Day has been going on for far too long.’ He said, running two, thick fingers across his eyes. He could feel the dry tears in the corners of his eyes, and felt an itch as he attempted to rub the sleep away.

 ‘Hm… I can agree with that. Yana and Bronislava have been out all day and…’ She trailed off, his mother seemed hesitant to speak. He felt concern rise and clench deeply at his heart.

 ‘What happened?’

 ‘It’s Zhanna…’

 ‘Is she hurt?!’ He felt panic rising, not bothering to grab his classwork but making a move to the door so he might hurry home. Or to the hospital. Or to wherever his sister might be.

 ‘нет, she claims she is not hurt, my son. Not physically.’ He slowed a little, felt the panic lessening, but he kept moving. He didn’t bother to lock the lecture hall behind him, as he expected the janitors would notice in their nightly routine.

 ‘I’ll come home.’

 ‘нет. Misha… I don’t think she wants to see anyone right now.’ He stopped, and instead of worry, he felt fury beginning to boil his blood. He kept his voice low so he couldn’t be heard.

 ‘I will crush him.’

 ‘Ah, Misha, you know we cannot be doing that.’

 ‘He broke Zhanna’s heart.’ His eyes glanced about for any other sign of life. Apart from his own class, that he had released early, all other classrooms were still shut tight and not a soul was in the halls. ‘Little man will pay.’

 ‘да, he will. However, we cannot be the ones to make him pay. Zhanna loved him, and this is more than just him breaking it off with her. Mikhail…’

 When she used his full name, it never meant anything good was going to be said next. He prepared himself, expecting to hear what he had heard before. The man Zhanna had taken an interest in thought her too loud, perhaps too overbearing. Maybe he was intimidated by a woman just as strong as he was and potentially taller too. Maybe an insult had been hurled her way; not uncommon but still unforgivable.

 Zhanna had always been a hopeless romantic, and had sought out someone that suited her well. Instead, she tended to scare even the kindest men away, and Mikhail just didn’t understand it. She was beautiful, strong-willed and loyal to a fault.

 ‘She told me Peter had been feeling unwell. She had gone to see him, taking some borscht with her to liven him up.’ Always a good choice. ‘Oh Misha…’

 ‘What happened?’ He repeated again.

 ‘He hurt her… He attacked her, Misha.’

 ‘что?!’ He felt himself seething, clenching his free hand in rapid succession, as if squeezing an invisible stress toy. ‘He dare hurt sister?!’

 ‘He didn’t do much, but she came home with bruises on her arms. He even bit her hard on the hand when he grabbed her.’

 CRUNCH!

 He didn’t mean to break the phone in his grip, but how dare someone do something so cruel to Zhanna! She who wore her heart open, on her sleeve for all to see. She was a sensitive soul who didn’t deserve the cruelty that wicked men had lashed out with.

 He didn’t have the time, or the ability, to call Dell and let him know their afternoon coffee was off. Dell knew not to worry if Mikhail was unable to come, the Texan always patient with the ups and downs the Garin family had faced over the years. He was a constant kindness in Mikhail’s life, always polite enough to just sit and listen when he could afford it.

 Dell would have to wait.

 He stormed quickly and with purpose through the halls towards the exit; those rare students and staff that he passed parted ways for him quickly when they noticed the oxen man move towards them. By the time he was in the parking lot, he nearly tore the door off the car itself, taking a seat within the tiny vehicle.

 It creased his body and forced his spine into a hunched position. He filled up the front window almost comically, but the deathly glare in his eyes shut up any laughs from onlookers. He reversed, peeling out and into the middle of the lot, and then begun his drive home.

 Through it all, the radio was tuned to the classical station; the fine sound of an orchestra helped to soothe his anger, but not deplete it entirely. The violins, by far his favourite of the instruments, almost massaged the pulsing, burning ache in his head with their lulling choir. It helped, if only a little, and if only for a short time.

 As Mikhail continued his drive deeper and deeper into city streets, he started to notice an unusual hustle amongst the pedestrians. There was an unending ring of sirens as police cars and ambulances cut through the traffic, and officers attempted to redirect it down different streets.

 Through it all, there was a sudden cacophony of gunshots, and screams ripped through the pedestrians as they took to the road. They hurried between the crawling automobiles, banging on windows and attempting to open doors in their haste to escape whatever was happening. One woman had latched onto Mikhail’s own car, a large, red gash across her cheek. Her lip was bleeding and her hands were scratching at his passenger door desperately, creating a fine line of white scratches across the metal.

 He went to unlock the door, to allow her safety, when another person (man or woman, Mikhail couldn’t tell) half tackled her to the floor. He opened his own door, about to pull the figure off of her. That was, until they turned their head, revealing their chin and mouth stained with blood, teeth tight around a piece of flesh. The woman was still gasping, reaching out to him, eyes half-lidded as sleep threatened to take her.

 ‘Help…’ He could hardly hear her, especially after that creature suddenly turned on him. He leapt back, in time for the creature to miss planting its own teeth in his arm. He gripped the back of its head, large fingers tangled through its mess of hair, and planted its face to the concrete with as much force as he could muster. It was like a watermelon was crushed under his weight, as the head came apart with ease.

 Blood ran down his hand and wrist. He looked down at the woman, who now laid there, unmoving. Beyond the traffic, a crowd had formed of people racing to escape the chaos. More gunshots. More screaming.

 Mikhail didn’t return to his car. At the rate the traffic was moving, he wouldn’t be able to get out in time before more of those creatures came. He abandoned his vehicle, and turned to follow the road out of the city.

 He had to get home.

 And he had to get there soon!

[scenariosonscenarios]

Anniversary

Summary: it was you and nafla’s anniversary and although work got in the way, he still made it special.

Request: How about Nafla Fluffy and Smut when he finally surprised you when you went home and then...he makes love for you, showing how much he loves you without words? Like romantic sex. ~Queennie

Fluff, very fluffy, romance, smut, daddy/baby girl kink, mentions of marriage and wanting a baby.

I know I still put “I love you”s in here but I just couldn’t help myself 😔 @heart-bleeding-autism-angel

For the pass month your boyfriend Nafla had been immersed into work and your anniversary was today. You worried if he forgot or worse, he just didn’t care but you knew he couldn’t have been that heartless or non caring. But he hadn’t said anything or mentioned it whatsoever so you had to assume he forgot.

You had left to run some errands for Nafla that evening and sighed a bit frustrated. The list was so picky and involved you going all over town to find specific things.

Dumplings from this store, mochi from that store. You were exhausted from running around like a chicken with your head cut off all day. Not only that but he wouldn’t answer any calls or texts.

The last text you sent was “daddy I got all the stuff you asked for” and although you clearly saw “read at 7:38” you still got no response. At this point you were just fed up as you drove back to his place and you were ready to let all the profanities in your head burst out at him. Not only did he forgot your anniversary but he was also being an asshole.

“Nafla I swear to god I’m so ready to chew you out-“ you said storming through the door with bags in your hands. That was until you saw the entire living room with candles everywhere, roses sprinkled all over the floors.

“Chew me out? After I did all this so we could celebrate our anniversary?” You heard. You made your way to the kitchen, Nafla sitting there with cake and a bouquet of flowers on the table.

“I thought you forgot” you said before rushing over to him and hugging him.

“Of course I didn’t. How could I forget the day I met my little angel?” he said pecking your lips

“You’re still in big trouble for sending me to get all this stuff” you said sitting on his lap and looking up at him still mad

“Well if I didn’t how would I have set up everything?” He said to you

“You have a point...” you muttered

“Now let’s enjoy some cake, wine, dinner, and gifts” he said to you picking you up and bringing you with him back into the living room. He sat you onto a pallet of multiple fuzzy blankets and fluffy pillows that also had pretty roses on it, gifts sitting in the corner waiting for you to open them.

“Close your eyes baby girl” he told you. You did as requested and kept your eyes shut, hearing a few sounds as nafla moved back and forth between you and the kitchen.

“Now open them” he said. When you opened your eyes you were greeted with your favorite food and champagne, your eyes gleaming with joy.

“Dig in princess” he said with a smile. You and him fed each other the food in front of you two, talking to each other and going from subject to subject as the bubbly alcohol was sipped in between

“What was your thoughts when you first saw me?” He asked looking at you.

“Well you looked a bit intimidating at first. You had a cold facial expression and I felt it was hard to approach you but as soon as we spoke to each other, you were so sweet and kind to me” you said

“I could tell I scared you a little, that’s why I treated you so gentle and with care” he said sweetly

“What about me? What did you think?” You asked downing your 3rd cup of champagne and pouring yourself another one.

“You were like a sweet little fairy. You seemed so delicate and gentle I just couldn’t resist from making a move. You were angelic to me” he admitted to you. You smiled and rested your head on his chest, feeling slightly sleepy as he continued to talk. Although you liked to drink, you couldn’t hold alcohol too well and would be knocked out in no time.

“I was definitely conflicted. I didn’t know if I’d taint you or not and tainting you’re personality was the last thing I wanted to do” he said

“You’ve never tainted anything about me” you muttered half asleep already

“Come on, let’s get in bed. I can tell you’re tired” he said to you. He picked up your tired body and carried you to his bedroom, placing you gently on the soft mattress. He carefully removed your clothes and slipped one of his shirts on you.

“Daddy please stay until I’m asleep” you almost whimpered as you grabbed his hand.

“Of course I’ll stay” he said getting in bed with you. You snuggled close to him and hugged him, the two of you cuddling as you went to sleep.

It was short lived though because you woke back up later, the clock in the room indicating it was passed 10 and almost 11. You reached for him although you knew he wouldn’t be there and sighed to yourself. It was his anniversary so the least he could do was take a break from working but you understood him.

Getting up you slipped on some socks to cover your cold legs and made your way around the condo, walking into his office and looking at him in front of his computer before walking up to him.

“Nick...I can’t sleep” you said poking him gently as you had your lip jutted out. The man turned from what he was working on, his eyes also tired as he adjusted his glasses.

“Can’t sleep without me?” He asked looking at you and your sleepwear. One of his shirts and his favorite thigh high socks he loved seeing you in.

“Mhm” you said quietly as you looked down.

“Well it’s gonna be awhile before I finish this and I really can’t afford to stop” he said to you with apologetic eyes.

“Can I just sit in daddy’s lap for awhile?” You asked with hopeful eyes. He nodded and you made your way on to him, straddling his hips and resting your head on his shoulder. He went back to what he was doing as you closed your eyes, humming in delight as you took a deep whiff of his natural scent.

By time he was done with his work it was 2 in the morning and you were sleep in his lap, soft breaths coming from you. He picked you up effortlessly and brought you with him to his shared bedroom. Your eyes fluttered open when he placed you on the bed and his heart softened as he looked down at you. The way you would look at him with your pretty eyes would make him commit a murder for you any time you wanted.

“Don’t look at me like that” he said to you

“Why?” You replied back confused

“It always makes me fall in love with you all over again” he said with a small smile, cupping your cheek softly as he leaned in and gave you a chaste kiss. Your cheeks went red in the dimly lit room, your eyes still gazing into his lovingly.

“I love you. I love everything about you. You have such an innocent and pure soul that I just can’t let go of” he said

“I love you too daddy. I’m so glad you accept me for me” you said raising up and hugging him tight

“I can’t wait to marry you and have a baby” he said hugging you back, his embrace warm and protective

“Maybe we can get a head start on the baby...if you’re feeling risky enough to not use protection tonight” you said with a small giggle afterwards

“You don’t have to tell me twice” he said laying you down and getting on top of you. Nafla was always strict about having safe sex so you were surprised he was willing to not use a condom.

“You want daddy to make love to you and cum in you baby girl?” He asked as he spreaded your soft thighs, rubbing them up and down.

“Yes daddy” you said with desperation laced in your voice. His hand moved to your heated core and rubbed your clit through your panties as his lips met yours, the kiss slow and passionate as you squirmed underneath him. You moved your lips against his as if you’d never be able to kiss him again, your hand trailing to the hard lump in his sweat pants. You felt excitement knock around in your belly as you felt how worked up he was, your own parts only getting more wet.

Soon he was parting his lips with yours, taking the oversized shirt off of your body. You looked up at him as he eyed your plump mounds before sliding your panties off. You rose up and helped him out of his own shirt, your lips kissing at his smooth skin the moonlight glowed on. Your eyes soon met with his when you got to his pants, pulling them down and licking your lips when you saw nothing was on underneath them. Your lips immediately took his hot girth into your mouth, suckling as much as you could.

You closed your eyes as you comfortably got on all fours, moving your head back and forth at a steady pace on him. You gagged a few times as his tip hit the back of your throat but it didn’t stop you. You heard breathy moans coming from him and it only made you want to give him more, your tongue cupping the underside of his member as you kept going.

Eventually you were stopped by Nafla though, his eyes looking down at you and your wet, bee stung lips.

“Sit up baby” he said getting onto the bed behind you and positioning you both to face the mirror across from the bed.

“Look at how beautiful you are princess” he said grabbing a handful of your breasts as he kissed your neck. You blushed as you saw the two of you, but your eyes wouldn’t tear themselves away from the sight. anticipation knocked around in your belly as Nafla grabbed his member and guided it into you, the motion slow and smooth.

Your eyes hooded as the feeling of him inside your heat filled your senses, his hips moving slowly in and out with delicate force. You could see him disappearing within your tightness and the sight itself was so erotic you almost came right then and there.

“Look at that pretty pussy baby girl” he whispered into your ear as his hips continued their slow, steady past within you. Your hips started to move against him as the two of you met eyes in the mirror, your juices glistening on his hardness as he made love to you. His hands grabbed your hips and guided them into him as he moved a little faster, pants and low moans coming from him as he felt every inch of your core wrapped around his member. Soft moans came from you while looked at you and him, the sounds coming from your pussy lewd.

“You hear that? Look at how wet your are for me” he said moving one hand from your hip to rub at your clit. Your back arched and you gasped in bliss, making him hit your spot from the position.

“Stay just like that” he said as his hips started moving faster and harder, your body bouncing slightly as he hit the bundle of nerves relentlessly. His free hand explored all over you body as he looked at you in the mirror, mouth agape and eyes closed.

Just the sight of seeing himself take you was making him want more and more.

“Daddy it feels so good” you said through moans, your cavern clenching around him as you felt yourself nearing

“Nah uh, hold it in” he said starting to rub at your clit again, whimpers being heard from your plush lips as you held back from letting go all over him

“Yes daddy” you said obediently. His hips started plowing in and out of you and your moans got more louder, your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“You want me to cum in you?” He asked as he thrusted in and out of your tightness skillfully.

“Yes! Please cum into me!” You said feeling the strings stopping you from cumming starting to become un done.

“Come with daddy baby” he said through husky moans. The binds holding you together immediately let go, a loud moan ripping from your throat as you came all over his girth, your thighs shaking in pleasure as Nafla burst inside you soon after, his cum flooding your walls with his load. He held your body close as he came, moans and curses leaving his lips as he pumped every last drop into you.

You leaned your head back tiredly on his shoulder. The two of you sitting there for a brief minute before he pulled out, the sight his his cum spilling out of your cavern and running down your thighs making your pussy throb.

Nafla gently cleaned you both up after the two of you were done and your body collapsed on the bed tiredly. You felt him rest his body beside yours and drape the cover over the two of you, bringing your frame closer to him as you quickly started drifting off to sleep.

“I love you baby girl”

“I love you too daddy”

——

AHHH THIS WAS SO CUTE AND FLUFFY I AM LITERALLY SCREECHING

ugh soft Nafla is the best Nafla y’all and you won’t convince me other wise

I rly hope this request was enjoyed cus I had a blast writing it.

[lastcrystalwitch]

4/15/2021

So the term Earth Angel found me. And I'm not particularly crazy about the term, but the meaning behind it is absolutely spot on with me. Its crazy that I'm finally finding articles and messages everywhere recently since I started working with messenger Gods and Goddesses. I've been receiving a ton of information about self growth. But a friend of mine called me and Earth Angel yesterday. I had to look it up. I'd heard it before, but it wasn't something that I was interested in because I thought it had to deal with Christianity, Jesus, Mary, and the heavenly pure spirit that makes up "God." or the , "Holy Ghost."

But an earth angel isn't someone who is Christian and follows Christianity, but instead someone who is bound to the earth, Gaia, and ancient natural energies that are in all living things. We attune with these natural energies and feel much more them, when they are by themselves in nature. This is where they go for themselves to recharge, and are overly sensitive to what others say and think about them. These individuals are highly critical and can even be very mean to themselves in a way that is not fair, when others judge them, make fun of them, tease them, because earth angels are sincere. I always try to live by the words, say what you mean, and mean what you say.

These people are easily misunderstood because they are not very common in their ways of thinking, and from the very beginning, Earth Angels go through a lot of shit early on to get their heads straight, and suffer through injustice at a dangerous obnoxious level, and can pick up coping mechanisms that are very unhealthy. But, all so that their soul is ready to help others who are suffering. They live through experience of their own suffering and are great at understanding energies and are the first to know when there is a "...disturbance in the Force." They have a severe passion for helping those who they love, and while Earth Angels don't like violence, or people who fight, they have a great respect for people who have had been through difficult situations because they can feel someone's energy completely and absolutely like they are experiencing the pain of others.

Earth Angels have the positive energy to send out love to the world, feels others problems as their own, cares immensely for others happiness, has the ability to accept others exactly the way that they are. When an earth angel sets their sights on you, and takes an interest in you, its because they see someone with a rare light, a rare soul. If and Earth Angel shows you love an affection they bind a part of their heart to you and you will have that bond and love with them for the rest of your lives. Earth Angels don't abandon people, nor do they forget injured souls. They often think of those that they want to help, and be with, and love.

But sometimes Earth Angels will understand when someone needs to change for themselves, and will give that person the room and tools necessary to realize their own priorities. They can encourage people to have what Tarot Readers call a Tower, moment. And ultimately want to be just a support system for you while you're going through some shit, and growing as a human, and learning life lessons. Earth angels can miss people to the point that it becomes an unhealthy level of stress, and need to find distractions so they aren't constantly worrying about the ones that they love.

The hardest lesson I have learned as an Earth Angel is this, "Everyone is growing and learning and changing at different rates. Just because someone hasn't learned a life lesson that you did, doesn't make them any less of a person. And many people take longer than others to learn lessons like, you cannot change a person, setting healthy boundaries, when someone pushes you away, its not your fault usually, they just didn't understand how I think and feel and communicate. Its hardest to realize that the path someone must walk down sometimes has to be done by themselves, and the Earth Angel just wishes that she could be a support for the person struggling with career, finances, feelings of guilt, anger and resentment.

An Earth angel can forgive, but getting back that trust, is like passing a class. You have to get your shit together and prove to them that you are worthy of their love when you misuse and abuse them. They'll never forget you though. In fact, they'll think of you quite often because they know you'll be happier if you love yourself and be a friend to your spirit. Your soul.

The sooner that people realize that being your own friend and being comfortable who you are, and doing good things to set you up for success is like feeding a pet on time every day the same day. You can learn to trust yourself to say and do the right things, and it absolutely is possible to feel happy. Yes it is. I know. I have that wisdom.

In DND, (Dungeons and Dragons) a tabletop game that is as unique as a fingerprint with those who play ... Knowledge is different than Wisdom. So, ask yourself, what is the difference?

Well, knowledge is information passed down from one person or animal or thing, to another. Basically it is, "He told me that the oven is hot. I trust him to tell me the truth, so I'm going to take his word for it and not touch the oven."

Wisdom is knowing for yourself, that the oven is hot. You touched it, you got burned, therefore you have that wisdom. You know. Not just because you were told, but because you experienced it yourself.

The crazy thing is about Wisdom and Knowledge is, it is just another level of personal experience. People experience things differently. That's why I find it so incredibly interesting to learn other peoples truths, and find out their stories, what they had been through, and how can I make this person happy.

Recently I went through something that scarred me very deeply. I am needing to withdrawal a little bit into myself, and just really give myself a hug because I have been through a lot, and I need to tell myself that everything is going to be ok. My heart spirit was injured, and this has caused me to feel hopeless at first, then sad and depressed, then just crying for others, to the point that people started really worrying if I would be okay. I had friends coming into check in on me, and ended up surviving.

But If I can't help someone, and they must go on their own journey for a while to get their goals, and priorities onto a healthy level, I realize that I can't be with them for this journey, as much as I really really really want to be there for them. But I think of them everyday, and I think about the good things, and how they made my soul happy just being around them. I felt recharged. And they made me grow as well, and question things that I never really had the initial knowledge to understand in the first place.

Tower moments are times in our lives when our personalities, or ways of thinking have to shift in order for us to grow. These life lessons that we as humans have to walk through, are ones that Earth Angels take pride in holding your hand and letting you know that they will always love you, care for you, and do their best to make sure that you know they won't leave you, and you are not alone. An earth angel can suffer and worry about a person more than that person is worried, and the most important qualities to a friendship to an earth angel are honesty, communication, and of course love. They are good at showing others Pure Love, what it is, and how to love yourself.

The love that they show, are understanding, accepting someone exactly the way they are, bringing happiness and joy to others around them. We get bullied because people don't understand that we are helping for the sake of helping.

Altruistic. "/ˌaltro͞oˈistik/ adjective showing a disinterested and selfless concern for the well-being of others; unselfish. "it was an entirely altruistic act" (borrowed from google dictionary)

Pacifism. pac·i·fism /ˈpasəˌfizəm/ noun the belief that any violence, including war, is unjustifiable under any circumstances, and that all disputes should be settled by peaceful means. "there remains a powerful undercurrent of pacifism" (borrowed from google dictionary)

That we really do feel good when we can make someone smile, or laugh. I myself am not very funny, and enjoy humor that is pure in form. I never liked trickery, or injuring someone's character to take personal pleasure in making someone suffer or feel better to make me feel better. That's not how it works with me. That isn't nice. Sincerity and doing what you say, and being honest with yourself and true to your heart are all qualities that we as Earth Angels like because it is just easier for our soul to be happy. Earth Angels are light workers, and ... "If you had a super power, it would be love." They use light energy to change the world and bring happiness and understanding to those around them. They experience pain and suffering on a larger scale than those around them because they wear their heart on their sleeve, and are easily hurt by those who ever try to hurt an earth angel. Earth Angels can see transformation happening to others, who cant see it, and usually choose to only share their highly intuitive thoughts with those who are very close to them.

Earth Angels can be very artistic. They have a natural ability to work with the arts and spread love and light through their art and their musical ability. Earth angels want everyone to understand each other, and want everyone to be happy. It is possible to have everyone on the same page. It is possible to have everyone be happy, using something called communication.

Opening up your heart when it has been hurt before and scarred is so hard for some people. But earth angels accept this pain and understand it because they bleed for their family and friends in a way that is hard to describe. They are so sensitive to those around them and how they feel.

All I am saying, is that I am 32 now, or 33. I think I'm 32. It changes every year, so I'm not too worried about it. hahaha

Earth angels can see layers of someone's soul by looking and speaking with them. They can tell the sadness and hurt inside someone, and instantly want to make them better. Earth angels are happiest when others are feeling happy, because they feed off of that happy, calm, content energy. And when an Earth angel is kept away from being able to recharge in an environment that is calm happy and content, like a forest or park, that person is more likely to feel overwhelmed, trapped, and stressed out.

Earth Angels shouldn't be confused with Christianity. Most Earth Angels are more prone to believe strongly in energies, what you send out comes back, kahrma, dahrma, and different planes of existence. Earth angels are better at making people feel better, because they truly feel real сочувствие, (seh*choos't*tiah) which translates sort of to empathy, and take great pride in being honest, truthful, and a good friend to others.

Earth angels from my own personal experience, are people who suffer for others, and are a good player two. They seek approval from other people quite often. Not because they can't think for themselves, but because they just want everyone to get along. These people are chameleons and can adapt to other peoples waves of energies and attitudes, in order to better understand someone. They are not trying to be unique and original, they already check those boxes. They just try to understand, provide aid, friendship and good mental health and love to those who are hurting. Earth angels are good to talk to if you need someone to listen to. They'll think about you all the time, and do little things for you to remind you that they care, and they hope you are happy. Earth angels use PURE UNBIASED LOVE AND AFFECTION to express themselves, and are very stern that you shouldn't use people.

Earth Angels kind of keep to themselves. Taking on other people's problems like their own can be very draining, and if you have the attention of an earth angel, they will cry over you, and look into how to help you (on multiple planes tbh) if you ever are suffering uncontrollably or super upset that its affecting your BA. (spirit soul energy) If you have the love from an Earth Angel, they will always love you no matter what, no matter how much you hurt them. They are understanding and extremely sensitive to many things. When Earth angels are injured in their BA, from someone hurting them intentionally, it is the worst thing that you can do to this person because it leaves a very deep deep scar. But they'll always love you, and they'll always listen to you and be there for you if you reach out to them.

Earth angels are said to be put on this earth to help others understand their soul's connection with the world around them and often remind and show others that there can be a very strong natural and grounding, warm hug energy from the earth, being outside, and the natural energies of the world around them. They are open to the world's energies and often seek out questions on a spiritual level, not to be confused with a religious level, as there is a very big difference between using tools to help you vs. adopting someone else's way of thinking. They like to think for themselves, but learn all they can from others. And they can be naturally good at learning other languages because they've made it their goal to understand and help others ... through understanding itself. One great way to learn about other peoples understanding is through Communication, Understanding, Listening, and learning healthy grounding ways to connect someone's BA, to their environment.

Earth angels are artistically talented but do best in careers where they can work closely with people in order to make them feel better, where they can have one on one connections with people. Earth angels are rare, and usually were people who put up with an unusual amount of pain growing up, and bullied, and who have suffered a lot, and just don't understand or like it when people are mean to others.

They're not perfect. Their not in human. They still have all the problems as someone else, but they know the more that you can understand what it is that is bothering you, the more Wisdom you gain, and the happier and more grounded you can be. Imagine being content and happy with yourself on a very very deep level. <3

I hope you have a good day. I love you, and hope today you do something to remind you to love yourself. I hope you smile today, and really feel it. *hugs*

[yongiefilms]

TRUST IN ME.

pairing: na jaemin x reader

genre: fluff; angst; mafia!au (i guess)

warnings: graphic descriptions; mentions of blood and death

word count: 1.1k

summary: he only asked you for one thing, one small favor out of millions of requests in his final moments. you had to deliver, but could you?

author’s note: huge thanks to my love @jensungf for proofreading this and helping me with the title as well as the summary. i know this was what you least expected so thank you for enduring till the end. also shoutout to my other precious love @in-my-neofeelings for helping me choose a header because you know how indecisive i am. you both are amazing and i love you very much. this one is a bit different so i hope you enjoy, my loves!

“You are going to die,” you let out, choking on your words as you focused on the ceiling of the warehouse. You could feel the water prickling under your eyes, just waiting to fall and leave stains on the concrete to mingle in with the stark red. “Oh my gosh, you are going to die.”

You were on the brink of insanity and couldn’t hold back your sobs any longer. The weight of your declaration and his ever worsening state hit you like a truck, taking your breath away. You blinked rapidly to allow the tears to be free and your heart clenched in your chest. The tears streamed down your face as an endless waterfall, cascading with subtle drips and made your vision blurry. He was going to die. Na Jaemin, the love of your life was going to die. How had it come to this point? You were too young—he was too young for this, but death had a funny way of making its presence known.

“Babe,” he croaked out, catching your attention. You snapped your head down to take note of where he laid in what would be his last moments. His upper body was half in your lap while the rest of his torso including his long legs were extended outwards, resting on the cold floor. He was clothed from head to toe in black, blending into the surroundings of the dimly lit metal room. Yet, you could make out the dark stains of maroon so evidently on his clothing. The gunshot wound was on his left side, right above his hip bone and it was wide open, still gushing an ugly ruby red. His hands were painted the same tone along with the rest of his exposed skin with the spotted freckles of scarlet. Before you even arrived he had made sure to take out the bullet and place his two palms on the lesion to stop the flow of the gore by applying significant pressure. However, it seemed to be no use as the gash continuously flowed out the same color, as if it was draining him of existence, which it truly was. Your hands too had the very hue you now hated with every fiber of your being, as you tried to assist him in any way you could till the others arrived. You always admired how red was bold, passionate, and simply stunning. But now you hated how red was too bright, too eye-catching, and too dangerous.

He peered up at you, his lids heavy with slumber and when you locked eyes with him he managed to crack his wide, toothy grin at you. A beautiful, bright beam amidst the growing darkness of reality.

You laughed, but it was hollow and void of any feeling. “How can you be smiling at me right now?” You hacked out, lightly slapping his arm as the teardrops were beginning to dry on your face. “You’re an idiot. Don’t you see that you’re dying?”

It was now his turn to chuckle. He removed one of his palms off the force it was applying to the injury and placed his warming touch on top of your own hand where it was resting over his body. He intertwined your fingers together and gave a small squeeze before bringing up your enclosed hands to give a light peck to the skin.

He gazed at you so lovingly it made your heart combust. “I am smiling because I am with you, my love. I am with you and that’s all that matters. Not even I on the verge of death can take that away.” Another pulse was felt between your interlocked hands. “Never.”

The tears that stopped flowing began to be let loose once again. Not out of sadness or the pain you felt he was going through, but out of the little joy you got from his comment. “You always know what to say, even if it’s a little sappy and even if it has the worst timing ever.”

His smile dropped and his face turned serious. It always amazed you how such a happy boy could turn so solemn in split seconds. “I am not going to die, angel.” He offered you a pointed stare.

You gave an exasperated sigh. “You are! Can’t you see how you look? Your wound hasn’t stopped bleeding since five minutes ago and the boys still aren’t here yet! It’s getting worse by the second, Jaemin! So don’t tell me you aren’t going to die when fate clearly doesn’t seem to be on your side.”

He abruptly let go of your tangled fingers and raised both of his hands to rest on your wrists. He tugged you closer to him, till your faces were a mere few centimeters apart.

“What...Jaemin...your wound,” you stuttered, clearly confused on why he suddenly pulled you close.

His voice was stern and harsh, but yet had an undertone of what you could grasp as tenderness.

“Listen I don’t care about my wound and I don’t care about fate. Screw fate, it doesn’t exist and above all screw death. I won’t let it get to me. I won’t let it take me away from the ones I love the most and I most certainly won’t let it take me away from you. I am not going anywhere, Y/N. I am not going to leave your side and I am not going to die so don’t say that I am. Trust the boys.” He drew you even closer, resting his forehead against your own. “Trust me...please.”

You nodded your head slowly, trying to understand and believe his remarks above all. You had to be positive. You had to be strong. You could not let negativity engulf you in its embrace for it would only break you down further. You wouldn’t let death come and take Jaemin away, you wouldn’t allow it. You both would have to face death in its vacant and detached eyes if it came knocking on the door, scythe raised, ready to tear apart the thread holding life together. That was one fight you had to triumph in. For you and for your lover.

“Okay,” you whispered. “Okay.”

You leaned forward to press your lips to his cold ones, trying to restore a bit of essence into his wondrous soul. You could hear the pulsing of your hearts as it began to thud as one. Thump! Thump! Thump! Steady and alive. He wasn’t going to die, he was going to be okay and so would the two of you.

Till the thumping of one ceased and the two hearts that began to beat faded to one again. A single hammering in the chest was all that was heard.

Na Jaemin, my love, I’m sorry. I couldn’t find it within me to trust you.

You were finally left alone in your defeat because you simply couldn’t believe.

[darlingpetao3]

Let Loose (Lucifer Morningstar x Reader)

Rating: M (Smut)

Summary: While out with their friends, a nervous Reader meets Lucifer at Lux, where he liberates them from their anxiety.

The very moment you step into the hottest nightclub in the city, Lux, you feel a tingling spread across your skin. It’s your first time here, but your friends have been multiple times and have finally persuaded you on tagging along for a night of fun.

The place is packed and the entrancing music pulses while the club’s patrons let go of their inhibitions. Even the professional dancers seem to have a certain hypnotizing way of moving. You can’t stop staring at everything.

No wonder this place gets rave reviews.

Your friends are instantly out on the dance floor, dancing with some guys they’ve already set their sights on. You’ll get out there. Soon. Maybe you just need a few drinks first before you get the courage to do so.

Heading over to the bar, you order a shot and down it quickly. The woman tending the bar, who had given you an unfriendly squint at first, now raises an impressed eyebrow. You lean against the bar counter to stare back at the dance floor.

Any time now. Any time this alcohol will kick in.

Come on, liquid courage. Do your stuff.

“Enjoying yourself, m’dear?”

The voice that interrupts your anxious thinking is smooth and honey-like. You turn and look up, meeting eyes with a man who you could only describe as obscenely attractive. How can anyone on this earth look that flawless? It seems implausible and yet, here in front of you, he stands.

You laugh nervously as he searches your eyes.

“Um, yeah, thanks,” you reply. The man’s eyes rake your body in your form-fitting dress. It’s suddenly hot as hell in here.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chides, “don’t you lie to me, love.”

You blush at his call-out and all the undivided attention he’s giving you. Was it really that obvious? Maybe you needed another drink.

“You’re a little good girl, aren’t you, precious?” he questions. “What in Hell’s name are you doing in a place like this? Looking for a little fun, hm?”

“I’m here with my friends,” you explain, “only I’m just getting a little bit of liquid courage first.”

“Ah, let me help you with that. Maze, two more shots, if you please?”

The bartender rolls her eyes but offers up two more. The man in the Armani suit takes one of the two shots and clinks it with yours, adding in a quick wink. You both toss them back, and you’re unsure whether your heart wants to leap out of your chest due to the sheer hotness of this man or if the alcohol is finally kicking in.

You find yourself staring at him, likely too much, because he narrows his eyes and settles in closer to you. He pushes the suit of his jacket back as he casually places his hand in his trousers’ pocket.

“Like what you see, precious?”

You give an awkward little laugh as your face heats up even more. “I mean, yeah. How could I not?” You gesture to him, while he gives his own devilish laugh at that. He introduces himself as Lucifer and you offer up your name in reply.

“Now, I’m curious, but tell me. What is it you desire, (Y/N)?” The man’s bewitching eyes bore into yours, exacting from you what you’ve always wanted.

“To be spontaneous, to let loose, and not let my anxiety stop me from living.”

He looks impressed with your answer.

“Well, what if I told you that I could be of service in helping you let loose?” His hand finds your warmed cheek, where his thumb rubs back and forth against your skin. “What if I told you we could get away from all this and I can show you exactly how to live?”

What sort of power does this man hold why I’m starting to feel so free?

“I’d say… show me. Please.”

He hums a laugh from the back of his throat as his perfect lips turn up.

“That can be arranged,” Lucifer says. “Come, come.”

After receiving another deathly eye roll from Maze, the bartender, Lucifer leads you to the back of the club where hides an elevator. It’s a swift ride up, and you soon find yourselves in a gorgeously furnished penthouse, complete with a hot tub, grand piano, and entire second bar.

He guides you out and into his place with his hand on your back. It positively burns against you.

“I have to tell you, this isn’t something I normally do,” you try to tell him, now officially setting foot in his bedroom.

“Oh, I know, precious. But this is something you’ve always desired to do, is it not? Have hot, passionate sex with a tall, dark and devilishly handsome stranger on a mere whim?”

You feel the truth being pulled out of you on its own once more.

“Yes.” Your hands find Lucifer’s chest over his stark white button-down and explore upwards.

“That’s right, pet,” he urges on your exploration, “I won’t bite. Not if you don’t want me to.”

“I might want you to,” falls out of your mouth. Lucifer practically growls as he brings you closer, pressing your body against his.

“Mm, you really are a little minx underneath it all, aren’t you?”

You feel the air leave your lungs because the man has begun to kiss your neck. Chest heaving, you raise a hand to the back of his head and hold him there as he sucks various marks to your skin. Little breathy gasps leave you while your body begins to surrender to him.

His fingers glide down your back, resulting in a full-body shiver, to get at the zipper of your dress. Your body-hugging dress drops at a single tug and pools on the floor. Lucifer is mighty quick to remove your bra and handles it with such effortlessness that he’s suddenly so much hotter to you. If that were even possible.

He knows what he wants and he goes for it.

I could learn from him.

Lucifer’s eyes are even more black and lustful, and he licks his lips like he’s going to eat you alive.

He sheds his shirt like he means business and undoes his trousers like it’s a mere routine. As the gorgeous man lowers you to the mattress, your back meets the expensive silken linens. It feels so inviting, so comforting. You want this so badly, your entire being screams at you.

Lucifer bends down while still keeping his black eyes locked with yours. His tongue swipes a lick atop your breast, then immediately takes your stiffened peak in his mouth to suck.

Oh, hell.

His other hand works on massaging your other breast and you forget about everything around you and let your body take over as your vocal cords produce a moan. That’s when he decides to pull your nipple lightly in between his teeth.

“Oh, fuck,” you exhale the curse in heat.

“Naughty, naughty,” Lucifer chides, but his tone suggests he’s aroused with your language. His massaging hand runs down the plane of your stomach and slips past your panties to feel your pulsing desire. You can see it in his eyes how pleased he is at the amount of slickness he feels coating his fingers. He toys with your clit in deliberately slow circles, and you whine at his touch while moving your hips to receive more stimulation. But Lucifer’s fingers go on to explore further inside you, and you can’t hold back the gasp that leaves your lips as he begins to stretch you.

He bends down again so that his face is above yours, cologne so strong yet soothing. Lucifer’s kisses are hot and in a series of quick succession. His tongue makes a reappearance and becomes acquainted with yours. Your next gasp bleeds into a moan into his mouth when he adds another finger.

“Are you ready for me, pet?”

At this, you can’t help but notice his impressive length straining in his boxer briefs. Your hunger jumps to a whole new level.

“Yes, yes, hell yes, please,” you practically whimper. Your previous worries are miraculously long behind you now, and all you can think about - all you need - is having this stranger inside you.

His fingers may be removed from your sopping heat, but in their place, Lucifer’s bending cock slides between your legs to coat it with your more pertinent desire.

Everything is Lucifer when he finally enters you. Your back lifts off the bed as you let out a lust-filled cry. It’s a tight and delicious fit with your muscles constricting around his eager girth. The man’s lips twist up at the sound and creates his own unbridled groan.

“Open up for me, precious. Take me in.”

He’s so big you don’t even know how you can adjust, but your body finds a way to relax enough for Lucifer to slide in deeper.

Your eyes squeeze shut at how he stretches you fully, but your voice begs him to move, to give you more. He goes on to create a steady rhythm with his hips and all too salacious comments on how tight and perfect you feel around him.

Lucifer has a filthy mouth.

You make another desperate noise as you continue your ascent, which prompts him to ask between grunts, “Speak, love. What do you need?”

“Fingers,” you somehow manage to voice your need amidst your hedonistic sounds.

“My pleasure. Or rather yours.”

And it’s precisely what you need after all, the extra stimulation to hurtle you closer and closer to what could be the strongest orgasm of your life. In a series of ‘yes’s and curses, you reach another plane of existence. Flashes of white light grow behind your eyes while your mouth widens in an inaudible ‘O’ shape.

Pure euphoria.

Lucifer, in turn, exhales a shaky and pleasurable moan as your body repeatedly constricts and pulls around his cock.

“Oh yes, precious, that’s it, that’s it.”

He comes to find his release inside you, hot and fast, and you feel the descent of your high flow through you. Every part of you is warm and exhilarated and thoroughly pleased.

“Ahh,” he moans after humming a content laugh of satisfaction. When Lucifer pulls out from you, he rolls over back onto the bed. His grin reads that his own desirous thirst has been quenched.

For now.

~

Adjusting the strap on your dress, you exit the elevator downstairs in the nightclub where the music continues to thrum. Men and women dance, carefree, and not a soul knows just how liberated you’d become several floors up.

Multiple times.

You spot your friends over in a booth with some drinks. You walk up to them.

“Where have you been?” one asks.

“We thought you ditched!” says the other. You smile to yourself.

“I was just having a bit of fun.” Something catches your eye on the balcony above. You make eye contact with the man who set you free. In more ways than one.

“Let’s dance,” you suggest, and pull your friends by their hands. They squeal, pleasantly surprised at your change of attitude. After one last look up to Lucifer, you spot him smirk and shoots you a sly wink.

Liquid courage no longer needed.