#i keep needing to get pants for work bc either this one manager picks on me or my pants rip

[marsixm]

locked in a psychic doom spiral with the entire concept of retail bc whenever i go to any store that isnt the one i work at the vibes are so atrocious and offputting

[honeybeefae]

pls do the sexting prompt (nsfw obv) but i cant pick which bat boy bc i wanna read it for them all so u pick :)

Also this is such a fun idea i cant wait to read them all!!

Passing Notes (Bat Boys x Reader)

BINGO: Sexting

(Okay so obviously we don’t have a phone but we can do it the old-fashioned way ;). I figured I’d do each bat boy since I couldn’t choose either so take your pick or take the lot! Also, Azriel’s took a different turn for sexting but I hope you guys like it? I didn’t want to repeat the same prompt that I did for Cass! Enjoy!)

WARNINGS: Smut

RHYSAND

You were in the library with at least three different books scattered across the table. It was late and you knew your mate was waiting for you in bed but you needed to get this done. You were so close to finding the answers you were looking for in regard to some myth, it was within your grasp so you were going to stay up until it was solved.

A small note appeared in front of you, right as you went to mark something with your pen and you smiled and shook your head.

How cruel to leave your mate alone and cold.

He was such an Illyrian baby. You almost didn’t reply, not wanting to entertain his theatrics, but you couldn’t resist teasing him. 

If you are that desperate for company I’m sure Cassian wouldn’t mind joining you.

It vanished into thin air and you went back to your book, your eyes narrowing as you began scribbling until the note appeared once more. What had you started?

Cassian wouldn’t be keen on the company I wish from you, darling.

You bit down on your bottom lip and crossed your legs. He was in one of those moods and you knew you soon would be as well. The two of you had a very hard time keeping your hands to yourself and when you were working like this, your mate made it his personal mission to distract you in the best way possible.

Your pen hesitated over the paper as you wondered if you wanted to get into this with him but when you saw the image he sent down the bond of his cock in his hands, you folded quickly. 

It looks like you’ve got things taken care of on your end, my Lord. What exactly would my purpose be?

A rush of heat went down to your sex as you shifted in your seat, unable to focus on what was in front of you. He took longer than normal to respond and you couldn’t help but imagine why. At this rate, you would be running to your bedroom before he could even finish his sentence.

I want to make sure you’re taken care of, Y/N. I know that ache inside you is growing, I can feel it. Let me ease it for you.

The sound of your chair scrapping backward was loud as you allowed your hands to wander underneath your pants, finding the wetness of your cunt as you slowly rubbed yourself. Two could play at this game.

It was tricky to write with one hand occupied but you managed, proud of your work as you sent the paper back as well as a sly picture of where your fingers currently were to him.

How would you ease it? I can picture many, many different ways but my favorite is with your head buried between my legs and your cock in my mouth.

Rhysand gave a harsh tug on the bond and you giggled breathlessly, knowing it was a warning to behave. You responded by sending him another image but this time it was of you riding him from earlier, your entire body on fire from how desperately you needed him. 

A soft breeze swept over you as you opened your hazy eyes to find your mate looming over you, his cock standing proudly while his jaw was tight. You smirked, crooking your finger to beckon him forward. He immediately fell to his knees and lifted your legs over his shoulders, kissing the inside of your thigh as you ran a hand through his dark locks. 

“Wicked woman.” He purred, giving you a smoldering look before diving head-first into your cunt. You gasped and arched into him, your tasks long forgotten as you welcomed the distraction.  

===========================================

CASSIAN

“Does everyone understand what we are going to be doing?” Feyre asked while standing at the head of the table, making eye contact with the entire group. They all nodded and you were doing your best to keep up but your mate was making it increasingly hard to do.

Cassian sat beside you, his aura oozing with nonchalance as he slipped a small piece of paper to you. You frowned, trying not to roll your eyes as you opened it underneath the table like you were in school.

I know what I am going to be doing ;)

You coughed to cover up your snort, shooting him a playful glare before shaking your head. Feyre glanced at the two of you but Elain asked something that thankfully got her attention off of you. 

The pen in your hand flew swiftly across the page as you wrote your response, sliding it back over to him and folding your hands in your lap.

I know where you’ll be sleeping if you do not pay attention to our High Lady, General.

He shifted in his seat, a small smirk on his lips as he wrote something down. You sighed, realizing your mistake in playing into his antics while he slid it back over to you again.

How can I pay attention when all I can think about is your hair in my hand, you gripping our headboard, and your cunt gripping my cock?

A small whine was building in the back of your throat as he turned the heat all the way to a ten. You crossed your legs and bit down on your bottom lip, the meeting losing some of its importance as you contemplated a response.

Your pussy was starting to develop a heartbeat as you reread his words over and over in your mind. He was watching you, one of his hands covering his mouth to hide his grin as he got you hook, line, and sinker. You were screwed. 

Fuck you.

It wasn’t a clever comeback but he had pulled out an ace when you least expected it. He always had this effect on you, to make you speechless and melt like butter in his hands. The voices of your friends started to get fuzzy as you moved in your chair, biting back a moan at the friction. 

No, princess, that’s your job. 

His reply was instant and your cheeks grew hot from both frustration and lust. You didn’t want to reply to him, hoping that by ignoring the situation you could regain control, but Cassian was one step ahead of you.

One of his hands ‘innocently’ fell to your thigh, the tablecloth hiding his dark intentions as he immediately traveled up to your panties. There was already a wet spot forming and you took a huge gulp of your wine when he thrust a thick finger into you.

It was nice but not what you wanted, your sex aching to be filled with his cock. You raised your hips slightly, trying to get him to either go deeper or add more, but he kept that teasing pace. His finger curled and found your g-spot easily, rubbing it while biting his lip as your hand gripped his arm tightly. 

“Y/N!” Feyre shouted, breaking you from your spell as you shot straight up and winced. All eyes were on the two of you, knowing looks and smirks from some while Azriel and Nesta looked annoyed. “Look, I know the mating bond is new-”

“I’m so sorry, Feyre, and everyone,” You blurted out, squealing when Cassian picked you up and threw you over his shoulder.

“You are so right, Feyre. I think we might go fix that situation right now so we don’t cause any more distractions. We’ll catch up tomorrow.” He called, winking at Rhys who gave him a knowing look and eye roll. 

“That’s not-” She tried to argue but the two of you were already outside and in the air, his arms tight around you as you giggled loudly. You were both going to be in trouble tomorrow but for tonight you were going to enjoy each other.

===========================================

AZRIEL

The dress Mor had lent you was a scarlet red with a plunging neckline and a slit so high you were nervous that you were going to end up flashing someone. It was something you wouldn’t normally wear but with your mission at the Court of Nightmares, you had to dress the part.

You were currently seducing one of the higher court members, his ego so easily inflated that you were a little bored with how easy it was. All he wanted to do was brag about himself, his wealth, and his ties. He wasn’t particularly interesting but he was harboring a book in his room that your friends were stealing as you speak.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you here before. I saw you were visiting with our High Lord. Are you a friend of his?” He asked you, his hand grazing the back of your waist.

A small shrug and some made-up story were enough for his prying to be sated, though the same couldn’t be said for his wandering hands. You masked your frown, trying to cover it with a yawn until you felt something slither around your ankle.

It was cool and firm, caressing your skin as it traveled upward while you looked down in confusion and alarm. You didn’t connect the dots until your eyes found your mate, Azriel, standing in the corner with an evil glint in his eyes.

Of course. He was jealous.

As if on cue you felt him reach out through the bond, tugging on it with frustration that had you placing a hand over your chest in surprise. The man in front of you raised an eyebrow, his lips curled over the rim of his glass.

“Are you alright? You look as if you've seen a ghost.” 

“I'm fine,” You replied, sending a warning look to your mate when the man took a sip of his drink. “Just a chest pain, nothing more.”

“Well, as I was saying, my father,” The man continued on as he had been all night, not noticing you bite down on your lip as those shadows slid further up your thigh until they were teasing the outside of your underwear.

Your body flinched from the contact as you tried to control your facial reactions. Azriel was risking the whole mission with this stunt but fuck it felt good.

“Are you even listening to me?” His voice was curt as you tuned back into whatever he was blabbering about. “You know there are plenty of other females-”

“No, no, I'm so sorry.” You rushed to soothe him, grasping his upper arm just as the shadows squeezed through the fabric of your panties to rub your clit. “I think the wine might be disagreeing with me is all, I feel flushed.”

He surveyed you, taking in your heated cheeks and glazed eyes before a dark look graced his face. His nostrils flared and you realized with great horror and embarrassment that he could smell you. And he thought he was the reason.

“If you were so desperate, young lady, all you had to do was ask. I can smell you.” He whispered into your ear, suddenly too close for comfort as Azriel continued playing with your body like a violin. “Shall we go back to my room?”

Before he could even lay a finger on you your mate appeared behind you, his stature menacing as he shot daggers at the man. You subconsciously moved closer to Azriel, your body practically vibrating as you swallowed a needy whimper as he picked up the speed on your clit.

“Is there a problem here?” Azriel asked lowly, dangerously, which actually had the man taking a step back. “I couldn’t help but notice how close the two of you were getting.”

“Is that a problem for you, Illyrian?” The man sneered, going to grab your arm to pull you into him. “Your owner needs to put his leash back on you.”

A thick silence followed his comments as Azriel stepped toe to toe with him, his wings flared in a show of dominance before Rhysand stepped in to cool down the situation. He looked at you for answers but your mate started pulling you through the crowd and out the doors the minute his High Lord took over. 

“Azriel, Azriel!” You whisper-shout, having to basically run to keep up with his strides. “You just ruined the whole point of tonight! I had it under control and I don’t even know if they’ve had time to-”

You gasped when he suddenly turned down a dark hallway and shoved you against the wall, a large hand over your mouth as he rutted into you. His cock was straining against his pants and when you whined underneath him, it flexed in need. 

“You didn’t have it under control. You let that man touch you, to think that he was the reason you’re soaking wet under that dress.” Azriel snarled, his lips inches from yours. “I’ll be damned if I let any other man think they have claim to you. And I’m going to show you what happens when you forget that.”

[luffyvace]

can i request romantic hairo kineshi hcs?

yes you mayyy~ lovely anonymous~

I’ve never seen anyone request him before! What a fascinating request 😋

gn since no gender or pronouns mentions ;}

Hairo’s personality is very intense and hype yet kind and helpful 💪

his good nature can help cheer you up if your a negative person

your feel upset about a wardrobe malfunction/bad hair day?

“NO, (name), you look great! Every day you get up you look great! Is the rivers gonna stop flowing because your outfit isn’t perfect??! No! Is the sun gonna stop shining because your hair is out of place?? No! You. Look. Great!”

absolute awesome motivator.

I cannot express that enough

Always there when you need him

He manages to cheer you up every time too!

Let’s address the pants situation..😭

that dude doesn’t even get embarrassed when his behind his out 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️😭

you probably do for him…

thank goodness no one makes fun of him for it-

except for like- nendo- who keeps pointing it out every time it happens..😀

but anyway (SEE WHAT I DID THERE??)

Alr fine I’ll stop..

his reputation (or yours) doesn’t go down because of it and your truly grateful

You know.. your pretty lucky now that I think about it

People love your boyfriend so much that even if he gets pantsed they won’t trash him for it

💓💓

that’s how you know he’s a real sweetie

This dude is raring to participate in any form of sports

and you dote on that so much!!

you support him in anyway you can

“GO HAIRO!!”

”YOU GOT THIS HAI-KUN!!”

you almost hype him up as much as he does you when your supporting him!

if you want he’ll offer for you to join when he’s training for his tennis matches

He do be getting pretty hard core but you know he means well by it 😅

its also a bonus that he’s disinterested in kokomi

because now you don’t have to worry about disloyalty

of course he, himself isn’t disloyal

just in genera, versus, if you were to date another guy who could possibly still be charmed by her which could lead to problems in the relationship..

again! You don’t have those worries 😊

it actually makes you feel really special to know he chooses you over teruhashi—who everyone thinks is perfect

to him, your perfect for him 🥺

lol he would totally say something cheesy like that and genuinely mean it 💖

gotta love a guy like that amirite? (Am I right?)

speaking of which it’s canon he doesn’t think about love

until you of course 🤗😵‍💫

he’s more so cheesy romantic with his words

so your dates are either more casual or fun and heart racing

which to be frank, it’s usually both

like working out for example :)

if you like to-

if not then a jog in the park is manageable

Your man is also certainly open to trying your hobbies as well!

but one that you could probably both agree on would be a theme park/carnival

if you don’t like the big, scary rides? the fast tea cups (that are safe on the ground) are just as thrilling to him! 💗

Random :) but you make sure to bring him back down to earth when he goes over the top

like when he gets too excited or into things

For example, that time he literally went and chopped down trees by his OWN HAND instead of buying already chopped wood 😀😅💖

you break it to him gently of course..

his strength is probably attractive if not admirable to you

especially his muscles 😍

no matter your weight or height he can pick you up guaranteed ♡

he often takes you to the gym or park when he works out—if your up for it

if you join him all the better!

although he probably has a gym in his house somewhere- at least weights

i can’t see otherwise

his dad might work out too

Him and famous tennis players likely inspired him when he was young

his strength comes in handy too!

now you have a no-struggle jar/can opener!! 😚

If you don’t he will definitely encourage you to work out

Or if you already do (i feel like if he did have a type they’d be a sporty person like him) you two will be the sweat duet or smth bc 😂😂

honestly? he’s too hot for cuddles in the summer but is great for them in the winter!

until he’s not.. 😀

it gets so bad it be feeling like SUMMER in your room while cuddling since he’s emitting heat 😗🤦‍♀️

his rivalry with nendo low key concerns you bc you know he’ll overexert himself 😭💞

he canonly knocks out at 8pm on the dot

(LOL)

so if you ever have sleepover don’t expect to pull all nighters

and you better scarf down dinner (i feel his mom would make dinner at around 6:30 ish)

so you can have a hour and a half to play some video games or smth

Something tells me he’d also be into reading manga

probably sports manga-

pretty obvious why-

if not then some sort of action

gets the blood pumpin ya know??

so at least that’s something you could do together if you yourself aren’t into sports

if I had to pick a fav sports anime for him it’d be free or aihru no sora (this except I’ve never watched either :3 <3)

his black belt in Judo is a very cool feat. to you

if you wanna learn (especially if your not strong so you can defend yourself) he leaps to teach you

he’s a great teacher and has patience but he does get really fired up about it ❤️‍🔥

And even if you don’t wanna learn it anymore or it’s taking awhile- don’t worry this guy will always protect you <3

coming to his tennis games is another way you support him

your right there next to his friends and family as well as your own

Practically the whole school shows up for this guy

everyone loves him 💓💓

he reminds you to do your homework and will help you with it or motivate you to finish it if you need it

his. parents. love. you.

whenever you come over for dinner or a sleepover his mom always goes “ohh, one more hug” like- A THOUSAND TIMES before you can actually leave 😭❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

she loves you like your her own

She trusts you not to break Hairo’s heart either

and those two have a real close bond so that says something <3

She kisses you atop the head sometimes (specifically when your leaving or when you say goodnight before bed during sleepovers)

the dad is always like “your a good kid yknow?” “Take care of yourself”

LOL TYPICAL DAD TALK

for the record he loves your parents too <3

and they love him as well 🤗

and with that..!

y’all future together is practically already sealed 💞

10/10 boyfriend no flaws 100% green flag- go go go!

Hairo seems like such a sweet boyfriend!

it’s sad that he’s underrated but at the same time at least only the good ones can have him

☝️😙

[harrywritingsbyme]

The one about Harry's leather suit

Based Off Of This Ask

And This One

A/N: So I know it’s like a week late, but Harry won a Grammy...and I’m so proud of him. I wish I could’ve written this sooner, but I’m not as talented and as quick to come up with fic ideas like so many other writers on here. So I decided to just write a smutty and little blurb for y’all. This one was rlly hard to write, not bc I was writers block or anything; simply bc there were just too many good concepts to choose from. Plus the timeline of events of said concepts and the fic in general would be shitty and I didn’t want to jump from one time to a new one and not have a cohesive fic…that takes a lot of practice lmao. So I had to leave some stuff out even tho I rlly didn’t want to. But I hope what I was able to put together isn’t trash…the ending sucks but that’s okay I guess. enjoy🙃

3.7k wordsss

You were going absolutely insane right now. As you sat at the end of the bed and watched Harry get ready for his performance, you were finding it incredibly hard to maintain your composure and hold on to any shred of sanity you had left. Your eyes followed his every movement as he floated through the room, not once stopping to focus on something other than Harry. The only times you looked away were when he caught you redhanded staring at him. But even then, your eyes were trained right back on him once he wasn’t looking in your direction. As you sat there, you could feel your body becoming warmer and warmer, little beads of sweat forming along your forehead and the back of your neck as you watched him. You could also feel the area between your legs becoming stickier and stickier as the time went on. Now you always loved the clothes he wore on stage and how he made just about anything look great. You were also consistent with the mindset that Harry was the most gorgeous man to ever walk the earth. 

But for some reason, in this moment he was even hotter than normal and you were completely obsessed with what he was wearing. His outfit managed to make him look even hotter than usual, his gorgeousness managed to make his outfit look even more stunning and hot, and the both of them together managed to push you to the brink of exploding into a billion tiny pieces. On top of all that, even though you knew his nerves were flowing regarding his first and opening performance at the Grammys where he was nominated an incredible three times, you could still feel his excitement and confidence radiating off of him. Which only contributed to you being pushed even closer to exploding into tiny pieces. The combination of feeling proud of Harry and his accomplishments, being very enamored for him, and being extremely hot and bothered over his mere existence was a whirlwind that only Harry could pull you out of. 

“Okay, so how do I look babe?” Harry asks as he turns around to fully face you, his voice breaking you out of your riled up thoughts. 

“You look great.” You quickly reply, trying to suppress the fiery need you had for him that was rumbling nearly uncontrollably inside of you.

“Are you alright Y/n? You seem a bit out of it.” He asks, his voice filled with concern. Well, pretend concern that is. He wasn’t going to just call you out on being so turned on right in front of his team; he wasn’t going to embarrass you like that. He was already doing it in very subtle ways. From keeping the bathroom door open a bit so that you could watch him change, to making sure to catch you staring at him, to even taking the time to shower you with love and attention. Harry knew exactly what he was doing to you and he got such a kick out of watching you crumble and become desperate for him. Maybe that was just his self proclaimed narcissism working in the form of a mild embarrassment kink. Either way though, Harry knew exactly what he was doing and he knew the effect all of the little things he did would have on you. He also knew that he’d have to take care of you before he was sucked into the madness of it all. No matter how much he loved driving you up the walls with his antics, whether it was turning you on beyond compare or annoying the hell out of you, Harry was always going to make sure you were alright. Plus it ended up working out in his favor since he could really use a pre-first time ever Grammy performance round to loosen him up and shake all the nerves that were running through his body. And you looked too cute just sitting there at the edge of the bed watching him.

“Hey Harry, how much time until we have to leave?” Harry asks his stylist, his attention still in your direction.

“A little over an hour.” His stylist promptly replies. 

“Can I have 30 with Y/n please?” Harry asks, his attention still in your direction. He could see you beginning to squirm a bit under his gaze and he wasn’t going to let up until you two were all alone and he could dive into everything that was going on with you right in front of him.

“And not a second more Harry! And Y/n!” He replies, poking his head around the corner to point his response at you as well. “We have to get pictures and all before we leave.” He then proceeds to get the other two of his team members together and out of the the door. “And please don’t get anything on the clothes!” He shouts back, already having a pretty good idea as to what you two were about to get into before closing the door, leaving you and Harry all alone. 

Without saying a single word to you, Harry steps closer to where you’re sitting on the bed and reaches out to grab your hands and pull you up from the bed. To which you immediately oblige and stand up in front of him at the end of the bed. And in what seemed like a blink of an eye, Harry switches positions with you, sitting at the end of the bed before pulling you right on top of him and into his lap.

“What are you-“

“Don’t act like you don’t want it.” Harry interjects, deciding that if he only had 30 minuets with you, he wasn’t going to be playing any games. 

“But we only-“ 

“Do you want to stop throbbing down there or what?” He asks sternly, cutting you off again.

“M’throbbing so bad.” You sigh, completely giving into him and beginning to move yourself against him a bit.

“Why doll?” He asks, wrapping his hands around your thighs to pull you higher up into his lap before helping you move back and forth against him. 

“You just look so good daddy.” You moan, letting out a little sigh at not only the image of him that was stuck in your head, but also at how good it felt to have some type of friction down there. You were craving any type of touch or attention from Harry and you were finally getting it.

“You like what daddy’s wearin’ for his performance?” He breathes out in response, beginning to get a bit more riled up himself. He was already quite turned on at how you were trying so hard to keep it together. But now you were on top of him, a little subby, and falling apart. He could feel his cock growing and growing in his pants beneath you. And the more you moved back and forth on him, the harder he got and the more desperate he became to have your walls around him.

“Mhm!” You whine, continuing to move back and forth against him. “Need you so bad!” You whimper, leaning into him a bit more so that you could dig your clit down into him. Which in turn causes your moans to become a tad higher. 

“Is that little clit of yours tingling for daddy sweet girl?” He asks, bucking his hips up into you a couple times, picking up on the slight change in your movement. “Bet it’s nice and swollen f’me. Always so sensitive and ready to be played with.” He continues on, reminiscing on all the times where he made you squirt multiple times simply from toying with and sucking on your cute little bud. 

To move things further along, Harry removes his hands from your thighs and he brings brings them up to your waist before lying back against the bed and pulling you higher up in his lap. You were so caught up in how good it felt to be relieving some of the pressure between your legs against the bump in Harry’s pants that you didn’t even notice Harry taking a peek underneath your dress. 

“Well I see someone decided to wear panties today.” Harry chuckles as he pushes his index finger up between your folds a bit to pull the panties that your pussy had practically engulfed out, causing you to snap out of your pleasured trance.

“Figured it was appropriate for the occasion so I decided to just throw a pair on.” You explain through your soft pants, a cute little smile spreading across your face in the process. 

“Cute. But if y’gonna wear panties sweets, make sure they can fit all of y’pussy.” He chuckles, admiring how the glistening and fleshy lips of your cunt practically swallowed up all of the material from your panties.

“But I thought you liked that daddy.” You whisper though a little pout, lifting your dress a little higher to take a peek down there yourself. 

“I do sweet girl. It’s just that I prefer easy access y’know. Never know when I may wanna fuck you or eat your pretty little peach.” He explains. “Don’t want anything in the way.” He continues on, swiftly pulling your panties, which were pretty sticky by the way, to the side to expose your even stickier pussy to him.  “Now that’s even cuter.” Harry huffs, his need to feel you growing by the second. You were so wet that all the curly little hairs around your pussy were completely matted from all of your sticky juices. He had to feel that around his cock.

“Thank you daddy.” You whisper back, feeling a warmth rising to your cheeks at his comment and the fact that he’s just ogling at your pussy. “Now it’s your turn.” You whisper excitedly, moving down off of his bulge some more and shifting your focus on undoing his pants. “I see someone didn’t have the same idea.” You note upon seeing that he was completely bare underneath his pants. 

“Don’t like t’be confined baby, you know that.” He replies simply. “Again, easy access.”

“Just don’t get hard while you’re performing, you know how you get.” You warn. See, given the fact that Harry loved performing, on top of the fact that he was again, a self proclaimed narcissist, he tended to get a bit of a performance high so to speak. And as a result of that performance high, Harry would get excited. And since he is now a 3x Grammy nominee, and performing for that matter, that performance high was definitely going to be intensified. 

Once you’ve completely undone his pants, you immediately push your hand down into them and you pull his cock out. At this point he was fully hard and throbbing, begging to be lodged in between your walls. You could see and feel all of the veins running up and down his shaft and his head was a reddish color with glistening precum beading at his slit. As you stare at his very sizable cock, you couldn’t help but be a little bit intimidated at his size. He was so big and even after the countless times he’s pushed into you, it was still incredibly hard to fathom all of him being able to fit inside. But that didn’t meant that you didn’t want him to be inside of you. So without wasting any more time, you lift yourself onto your knees and you move up to hover over Harry’s cock, keeping your hand wrapped around his hard yet soft shaft. When you do this, Harry uses his free hand to bunch your dress up at your hips so that he could watch you sink down onto him. 

“Don’t be scared of it baby. Just take it inside like the good girl you are for daddy.” He encourages through his breaths, pulling your panties to the side a bit more. You then begin to lower yourself down onto him, stopping when you feel the thick crown of his cock nudging at you. Since you couldn’t really see, you feel your way around, pushing his cock around the warm and ready area between your legs. Once you have him positioned at your entrance, you begin to slowly sink down onto him. 

“Oh my-fuck daddy!” You whimper, feeling the familiar sting that came along with taking Harry’s cock.

“Doin’ so good f’me baby!” Harry praises trough his grunts, becoming a bit overwhelmed at how good you feel around him. Your whines were like music to his ears as you filled yourself with him and your walls were like heaven. 

By the time you make it a little over halfway down his cock, you’re all floaty and incredibly overwhelmed that you can’t even go any further without stopping. When you open your eyes to look down at Harry, you see him staring back at you with intense yet proud eyes and you couldn’t help but clench up around him a bit. 

“Can I have more daddy?” You moan, moving mack and forth against the portion of his cock that was already inside of you. Instead of verbally replying to your question, Harry lets go of your panties and brings it up to your waist so that both hands were at your waist for him to guide you the rest of the way down. And as he does, the both of you let out the most frenzied moans, you and Harry feeling the deepest part of you becoming full with his cock. There were even little tears welling up in your eyes because it just felt so good. When you’re fully sitting in his lap again, you immediately begin moving against him. You have keep both hands planted on his bare chest as you grind and bounce yourself on his cock

“Fuck Y/n! Takin’ me so well doll.” Harry grunts, keeping his hands tightly wrapped around your hips as you move. Even though your movements were a bit sloppy, they were still nothing short of perfect. At some points you’d get a good bouncing rhythm going, lifting yourself and dropping back down onto him over and over again. And then you’d hit that spot inside of you, and you’d just keep yourself down and grind and circle your hips around to apply pressure and friction to that spot with his cock. Other times you’d be moving on his cock, but you’d be digging your clit into the slightly coarse hairs surrounding Harry’s cock, that being your biggest pleasure point. Harry was positive that your little button would be all swollen and even more sensitive than it already was once you were done but you could’ve cared less. All you were concerned about was feeling good. And so was Harry. 

He loved and thought you looked absolutely cute being all selfish and trying your hardest to relieve yourself. While you were consumed with pleasuring yourself, you were in turn pleasuring Harry in ways that were beyond belief. On top of the obvious fact that your walls were the best and the only thing Harry ever wanted to be around his cock, your juices were also playing a part in his pleasure. Since you were practically gushing around him, your juices were constantly flowing out of you. They were dripping right out of you, down from his cock, and down to his balls and even further to his entrance. It felt so good to Harry, he wished he could have more. You were making him feel so good that his moans were just a song of your praises.

But even though you were making Harry feel absolutely amazing, you were becoming exhausted. At this point, it was too much and you could barely hold yourself up let alone keep moving back and forth against him. Upon seeing this, Harry takes control of it all and flips you two over so that he’s on top of you. When he does this, his cock slips out of you. But instead of immediately pushing back inside, Harry brings his hands to your thighs to push them apart before pulling your panties back over to the side and attaching him mouth to your oh so sensitive clit.  When you feel Harry suckling on your clit, you lose it. You could feel him suckling and sucking on your button, quickly flicking his tongue back and forth against you, not once letting up. You could also feel him using his free hand to lightly scratch at the inside of your thigh which was also very sensitive. Harry then lets up from your clit to give you one wide lick from your entrance all the way up to your clit before going back to sucking at it. And at that moment, you realize that you wouldn’t be able to wait and cum with him. You just let go right then and there. To be more specific, you squirt all over the lower portion of Harry’s face and part of his chest. When he feels your warm juices splashing against his face, he begins to suck even harder; making your moans intensify and your hands tug even harder on his hair. Once you’ve stopped squirting, Harry detaches his mouth from your clit, and quickly licks and slobbers all over you before coming back up. Even though your juices were all warm, it was still a little refreshing considering the fact that he was quite literally burning up in the all leather look that you loved so much.

“Now what you have between your legs is a Grammy winning pussy sweetheart. And it deserves every other award there is to give.” He praises through a chuckle, causing you to let out a little, tired out laugh. Harry was completely in awe at how amazing your cunt was and what you just did. But he doesn’t spend too much time being in awe though because he can feel his release bubbling in his lower stomach and the time he has left with you was running low. So he taps his cock against your very pink and swollen clit before sinking back into you and going right into pistoning himself in and out of you over and over again. With every stroke, Harry could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge. He could also feel you tightening your walls up around him with every thrust. You were incredibly sensitive from your last release and you were on the brink of another. Whenever he slams back into you, he almost grinds up against you, aka your clit. 

“Gonna cum again daddy!” You cry out to him, digging your heels into the bed and clawing at the sheets, feeling a second wave building up inside of you. 

“Cum with me baby.” Harry growls, feeling himself approaching the edge of his release. And with two more swift thrusts, you and Harry are catapulted off of the edge. As you squirt for the second time (thank goodness he had them pushed down far enough so that they wouldn’t get all wet), Harry unloads all he has into you, dropping his head into your neck as he releases spurt after spurt of his cum into you.

After a minuet or two of catching his breath, Harry lifts his face from your neck and he slowly pulls himself from you, making sure to quickly pull your panties back over to keep his cum from spilling out and making an even bigger mess between your legs. And to really keep all of that cum secure inside of you, he pushes your panties back up between the lips of your pussy. They were going to end up in there anyways so why not. 

“Thanks for the sugar high doll.” He hums as he hovers over your disheveled and adorably fucked out figure, his bended knee right between your limp and spread legs. “I love you” He softly sings with a dopey smile. Proceeding to bring his hand up to lightly choke you and  cup your chin before connecting his lips with your slightly parted ones for a kiss. It was supposed to be And as he sponges his lips against yours, you could feel his tongue gliding perfectly against yours, taking complete control and exploring your mouth. 

“I love you too.” You reply with a little laugh once he pulls away from your lips, still floaty from it all.

He then stands up and pulls his undone pants back up. He looked absolutely gorgeous right then and there. When you see your phone lying on the bed where you tossed it a little bit earlier, you quickly reach over and grab it to capture a quick snap of that undeniably hot moment that was right in front of your eyes. His pants were undone like they were when he first put the clothes on and because you missed out on that first opportunity to capture him like that, you weren’t going to miss out on this one. Especially when he’s covered in that amazing post sex glow. 

“Are you takin’ pictures of me?” He smirks as he begins to do his pants back up. 

“Mhm, how could I not?!” You ask, dropping the phone back onto the bed to fully take in his actions in front of you.  “Plus, I want to be the first to memorialize this suit.”

“Well you’re first one to christen it that’s for sure.” Harry jokes. “I do look pretty hot though if I do say so myself.” Harry admires, looking into the mirror beside him. 

“Very hot. The leather is just doing it for me for some reason.” You admire.

“Well m’glad you like it sweets.” He Hums “Gotta get up though, I have a feeling they’re about to kick down the door.” He replies, quickly doing his pants back up before leaning over to grab you up from the bed. 

“Cant feel my legs.” You tiredly huff, doing your best to move with Harry’s tugging motions.

“Well if I win on Sunday you won’t be feeling your legs for the entire week.” He replies mater of factly.

“And if you don’t?” You ask, deciding to poke at him a bit as you sit at the end of the bed.

“You won’t be feeling your legs for the entire week.” He chuckles, repeating his previous statement.

“Now I’m really looking forward to Sunday. I mean…I get to watch you perform in this suit again, I get to watch you achieve something major in your career, and I get the opportunity to be railed at the end of it all. I’m the real winner here.” You happily reply to Harry before falling back onto the bed. 

Masterlist

[lao-huangs-bitch]

AIGHT ITS MY TURN W THE X HIGHSCHOOL BRAINROT!!!

[Achievement Unlocked: How Did We Get Here?]

I had these designs since like, 2016 bc I was Projecting my Student Years onto my Current Hyperfixation

Imma Copy Wiff n do some Explaining bc Why Not I feel like Infodumping

I actually did Mine based on American schools bc like I said, I mostly made this while Projecting

Lao:

Age 18, Senior

The Campus Bad Boy with absolutely No Respect for Anyone, not even Himself. Spends more time Oversleeping, Smoking out by the Bleachers, and getting Stoned in the Bathroom than actually attending class. Despite never being present, either Physically Skipping, or Mentally Sleeping, he still somehow manages to answer questions correctly. The only thing keeping him somewhat in check is Douglas, who pesters him to get to Class and do his Assignments. It doesn't always work, though. He's also a Bully and spends time picking on Gwin, but Douglas is the one to pull Lao Away from the poor kid. It was in these moments of Douglas pulling Lao away from whatever Freshman he was spitting on this time that the two met, and grew into unlikely friends.

He lives with his Mother, but his Father is barely in the picture due to being In and Out of Jail. No Siblings, and finds himself Alone at home a lot due to his mother working Two Jobs. He's on the road to being a Full Junkie, and sometimes gets Caught up in really Dangerous activities. Lately though, he's been trying a little harder to behave himself if he ever wants to talk to the cute girl in English Class....

Etc Things:

- Hates Elma w a Burning Passion... for Obvious reasons.

- has a Car. His license isn't exactly Valid, but he absolutely cares about that /s

- He has your typical Teenage Boy Blackhole Stomach and won't stop Snaking. This could also be from the Weed.

Douglas:

Age 17, Senior

Hailed as the High School Quarterback, he's the only guy Big Enough to put even Lao in his place. All of his free time and passion goes into Sports because he needs an Athletic Scholarship if he ever hopes to get into College. While he does his best to be a Good Student, it's very stressful to balance Sports, Class, and a Part Time Job all at the same time, and can get involved in Laos Shinanigans like Smoking or Skipping Class when life gets him down. He's generally very Loved and Respected, but his teenager hormones can get the best of him and make him aggressive if provoked, and Lao seems to be the best at pushing his buttons. But it's the occasional acts of Rebellion that earns him Laos Respect.

He lives with his Mother and 3 Younger Brothers after his Father passed away. His brothers are 9, 10, and 12 years old, so it's hard for him to make any connections with them. His mother takes advantage of Douglas a lot, all while Babying his brothers, so he's come to resent his family a lot. He works a part time job at a Fast Food joint to try and help make ends meet.

Etc Things:

- His Voice is always Cracking from all the growth spurts, and his pants are always just a little Too Short. His mom has no idea when this boy is going to Stop Growing.

- He's not the Brightest but it's mostly because his brain is so Cluttered. His Demeanor and Attentiveness/Engagement are mostly what help him scrape by.

[realcube]

soft haikyuu!! boys with a baddie* s/o  😈

characters:  yamaguchi, hinata, suga, akaashi, nishinoya & tendou

tw// swearing

*(a/n): anon requested a kinda sassy, sarcastic reader and verbatim ‘she is basically a salt bag, but she also has like some sugar’  so i simplified that down to baddie :) so the reader isn’t really a delinquent but they are a bit rough around the edges uffabvrslbv 

Tadashi Yamaguchi

he definitely thinks you’re really cool and he wants to be just like you :O

bc you give off ‘bad bitch who doesn’t care about what other ppl think about them’ energy and what he would give tO HAVE THAT!!

so that’s when he knew he needed to be your friend >:) 

so he was like ‘tsukki, go talk to (y/n) for me >:)’ thinking that was his first step to becoming confident pfft

luckily, god was on his side though bc the teacher rearranged the seats and you and him were sitting next to each other 

hence, he got the opportunity to talk to you without it seeming too forced

you both fell for each other so hard

like he would act tough to try impress you but you preferred his natural softness while you tried to act uncharacteristically docile so you wouldn’t scare him off but he liked you for your boldness 

it was a match made in heaven 💞

he eventually worked up the courage to ask you out one day and y’all have just been falling more ever since

although, that doesn’t mean yamaguchi’s forgotten one of the main reasons he wanted to be with you in the first place

‘please teach me your ways, (y/n)!’ he pleaded, his head resting on your lap so you had to cover his puppy-eyes with your phone

‘no, tadashi. firstly, you’re sweet and gentle- you’re just built like that. secondly, i don’t have any ‘ways’ to teach you!’

yamaguchi continued to pry, ‘then how are you just so effortlessly self-assured?’

‘who told you that, tadashi?’

‘no one.’ yamaguchi poked the back of your hand to get you to move it, ‘but remember that time one of the guys in our class tried to make fun of the size of your head and you told him to shut up?’

you rolled your eyes, setting your phone aside before placing a brief kiss on yamaguchi’s forehead, ‘he said he couldn’t see the board because of my ‘big head’, tadashi; that’s hardly an insult. also, what else could i have possibly said other than that?’

but then you remembered this is yamaguchi you’re talking to; if that was him, he’d probably apologise, move his head aside then cry in the bathroom or sumn.

‘i should be the one asking you why you’re so insecure. i mean, i know everyone is a little bit insecure about something but you just take it to a whole other level.’ you mused, absentmindedly massaging his scalp

yamaguchi frowned, ‘exactly! teach me how to stop being insecure.’

‘no please, no thank you?’ you inquired with a snicker, realising that your habits might of accidentally rubbed off on him

bc just a few weeks ago, he’d be thanking you for breathing the same air as him but now he didn’t even say ‘please’ when asking for a favour 

gasp

‘please teach me how to be resilient, (y/n).’

you chuckled, leaning down to whisper in his ear, ‘okay, since you’re so polite, i’ll tell you my secret - but promise not to tell anybody else!.’

‘i promise.’ yamaguchi replied without hesitation

‘okay, first thing you need to do is go to the depths of hell and find satan hims--’ 

yamaguchi let out a sigh as he realised that you weren’t being serious then playfully flicked your forehead away, ‘rude.’

you beamed, pressing another kiss upon his forehead, ‘i know~’

Shōyō Hinata

let’s not pretend hinata wasn’t shitting his pants when he first heard about you from kageyama

‘they called me a shitty setter the other day.’

but kageyama failed to mention the part where he cut you in line for lunch 🙄 mans had it coming

like hinata genuinely thought that if he came within a 5 foot radius of you, you’d literally come for volleyball career

plus, hinata knew he had a lot of things to be insults on (mostly, his height) so he decided to keep his distance at first 

but when he actually saw you - rather than a vague description that kageyama conjured - he kinda fell head over heels

well, not only bc of your looks - he isn’t that shallow

but the same day, you dropped your purse/wallet on the walk home and ,mhsince hinata was walking behind you, he acted as any good Samaritan would; picked it up then handed it to you 

then you said something along the lines of ‘thanks, shorty.’

not shawty. lord- shorty as in short with a y at the end

and whether you meant that as a dig or not was beyond him - but either way, he fkn adored it 

also it doesn’t matter whether you are taller or shorter than hinata- he is still short-stuff >:)

by some miracle he managed to ask you out successfully and he’s kinda been glued to you ever since

like he wants to spend every second that he’s not at volleyball club/school with you 

and if you tell him he’s being clingy, he’s going to cry-

nonono jk jk

he’d probably be a bit offended but then give you your space

also, you noticed how he was really endeared by the tad mean nicknames you gave him like ‘shorty’, ‘short stuff’ and ‘ginger’

the only ones he didn’t like was ‘boke’ or ‘dumbass’ bc it reminded him too much of kageyama + tsukishima

so you started calling him these things - teasingly - more frequently 

and he loves it ngl

as long as you aren’t truly mean to him, he enjoys being called these things by you for some reason

so, his first mistake was assuming that you’d like being called these joking nicknames just as much as he does

you were helping him with english once and it’s definitely not his strong suit

same, hinata

‘look at that! you spelt all your vocabs correctly, for a change.’ you commented, peering over the desk at the paper sitting in front of him

his eyes widened and his lips curled into a hopeful smile, ‘really?!’

‘no.’ you snickered, pointing to the first word on the list. ‘your word was taxis - you wrote ‘texas’, dumbass.’

hinata let out an exasperated sigh, propping his elbow onto the table to rest his cheek on his palm

then, he had an idea ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

‘alright, stupidface, should i rewrite them?’

you gasped, furrowing your brows at what he just called you 

for a moment, you thought you might’ve misheard him but upon observing his smug expression, you realised that he really did just call you a ‘stupidface’ 

so you burst out laughing 

obviously, hinata was rather shocked at your reaction

‘hey! what’s so funny?’

‘di- di- did you just call me a ‘stupidface’?!’ you panted in-between cackles, clutching your stomach to soothe the butterflies

hinata jutted out his bottom lip and folding his arms over his chest, ‘yeah, what about it?’

‘that is so cute!- do it again!’ you demanded, enthusiastically slamming your fist against the desk

‘IT’S NOT CUTE!’ hinata barked, playfully flicking your forehead 

once you caught your breath, you took hinata’s hands and looked him dead in the eyes, ‘you’re fucking adorable, shōyō.’

the hoarseness of your voice making it sound like somewhat of a threat 

‘you’re adorable-er, (y/n).’

‘i know.’

Kōshi Sugawara 

he admires how strong and independent you are/seem 😍

and the fact you don’t go out of your way to suck-up to ppl 

he kinda wants to be like you in that sense but unlike yamaguchi, he accepts that he’s way too much of a people pleaser for that lol

so he sticks to admiring you from afar

then he musters up the courage to ask you out with some chocolate cupcakes; the same kind that you accidentally got on his blazer on the first day of second year :))

and you say yes (╯▽╰ )

also a big part of your relationship is aggressive positivity ✨😡

like if he makes a joke about looking crusty, you’ll promptly respond, ‘shut up, kōshi - you look so hot.’

or if you berate yourself for getting a poor mark on a test, suga will interrupt with no hesitation, ‘fuck off, (y/n), you’re literally so smart and hard working - you’ll probably get 100% on the next test.’

also when he’s around you he switches between canon and fanon suga rapidly 

one second he’s like ‘aww, are you stressed bc of school? i’ll bake you some cookies, baby--’ then you’ll jokingly make a comment about his post-practise B.O and he’ll literally get so defensive

‘WOW I OFFER YOU SOMETHING NICE AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME?! STOP BEING SO MEAN TO ME, COMING FOR MY INSECURITES LIKE THAT  - I WAS JUST ABOUT TO GO FOR A SHOWER ANYWAY GEEZ’ ┗|｀O′|┛

ISVBFELIAEA plz he is too much ✋

he just prides himself in smelling like ocean breeze 99% of the time so you really didn’t need to hurt his feelings like that when you caught him lackin c’mon LMAO

‘wait so are we making cookies or not?’ you inquired, stifling a snicker at his little diva moment

‘ofc we are 🥺’  

he’ll probably use red icing on one of the cookies to draw a ‘>:(’ face then hand it to you, saying that he drew you

he’ll also break of bits of his own cookie and feed it to you’re doing something that requires both hands like typing, homework, dishes etc

whether you eat it from his hand happily, decline his offer or bite his fingers off is really up to you 

and over time, he probably picks up on some of your traits too

especially being more straight-forward 

the team will never forget the first time he was chatting about something with the vice principle and ‘sorry, but i don’t remember asking’  fell from his lips 

everyone was shocked :o

tsukishima, tanaka & noya were so impressed tho

and so were you IVBEAOGVRN

‘wow, suga. you wanna be me so bad.’ you gloated, pressing your hand against your chest 

‘GAEIVBSLR leave me alone.’ he growled, toiling over the apology letter he was currently writing to the vice principal

Keiji Akaashi 

he wanted you to be the dark academia to his light academia pfft

it was very much love at first sight btw 

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ soulmates  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

the embodiment of opposites attract

he’d write you a poem/love letter to ask you out lol

‘you’re so sappy and lame, akaashi’ you scoffed in attempt to hide the smile that was tugging at the corners of your lips as your eyes finally parted from the letter to meet his 

he couldn’t help but chuckle, ‘so is that a no?’

‘-nonono!’ you shook your head rapidly, hastily correcting him, ‘it’s a yes.’

phew 

honestly, he acted all nonchalant on the outside, but akaashi would’ve been devastated if you rejected him

like he constantly tried to remind himself that you would probably say no, i mean he thought you were way out of his league. plus, it didn’t seem as though you were as much of a romantic as him

but fortunately, apart of him stayed hopeful 

now he was cuddled up beside you on a cold winters’ evening, casually drinking is hot cocoa as you both watched a disney movie (❤´艸｀❤)

he’s the type to not even care or retort if you call him stupid or whatever

as long as your context makes it clear that you’re joking 

he’d never call you those names back though ✋

to him, you’re always gonna be ‘love’ or ‘sweetheart’

also, he’s probably equally as sarcastic as you so that’s not an issue 

ngl he probably gets really insecure when you’re hesitant about PDA tho

like he just wants to hold your hand but he doesn’t want to force it upon you and make you uncomfortable 🥺

but also, perhaps you’re too embarrassed by him to kiss him in public 

so please occasionally reassure him that you love him (；′⌒`) that always washes all his worries away 

Yū Nishinoya

it’s literally canon that he likes ppl who show 0 interest in him (kiyoko, tsukki etc)

so it shouldn’t be surprising that he’s all over you after that one time you called him a midget 

to be fair, he had it coming - he stepped on your fkn toe >:(( 

he does everything in his power to impress you and get you to take back what you said 

‘hey, (y/n)!’ he calls out to you in the middle of the bustling lunch hall, ‘could a midget do this?!’ *backflips off the table*

or when he demanded that you come to one of his volleyball games so you could see what he’s capable of and whenever he makes a good receive, he turns to look at you in the stands and winks/ points

or when he actually studies for a test just so he can flaunt his slightly above average grade to you 

‘look, (y/n), i got a 49%!’ he waves a paper in front of your face, which you stare at before lowering your gaze onto your 95%.

but ngl..he really brings out that lil’ bit of sugar in you 

‘well done, noya.’ you choked out feeling your dignity slowly fade in your chest

he’s just so enthusiastic and charming how can you be mean to him 🥺

to his face, at least

as soon as he leaves you beef about him to your friends

‘he is so annoyingly bodacious - audacious! why does he feel the need to show me all of his achievements like i care??? and why does he have to be so cute while doing it???’

‘do you think you maybe have a teeny-tiny crush on him?--’

‘never.’

nishinoya probably asks you out pretty casually like ‘lemme take you bowling this saturday and i can show how good i am at that too!’ he offered with a bright, bold smile

‘sure, whatever.’

‘kay! it’s a date!’

‘wut-’ but before you could question him further, he sped off

nishinoya really likes to fluster and tease you 

you’ll be sitting waiting for him at the park or whatever and he’ll swagger in and shout something like ‘how’s my gorgeous s/o doing today?! i hope you weren’t waiting for me too long!--’

then you’ll have to quickly shush him before everyone with a 7 feet radius is looking at you judgementally 

he also likes to call you the most extra nicknames just to see you blush

‘good morning, my beautiful, divine, radiant god(dess) who i worship every morning of my life!~’ he sung as he waltzed into your classroom to spend lunch with you 

but he only does that bc you are so dismissive of his advances lol

like if you openly adored his kisses and nicknames, he’d probably do them sparingly  

oh and he calls you ‘my hunny bunny’ too - don’t ask why 

Satori Tendō

you gave him your number/snap for a project and he’s one of those ppl that just assumes that y’all are friend now lol

but that wasn’t nessicarily a bad thing bc you thought he was really cool and you were happy that you still got to talk to him even after the project was over 

not that you’d ever admit it tho (╹ڡ╹ )

he’d send you cursed memes at 3AM and you’d reply like ‘mood’  then he’d fall for you 

you’d also have random, deep convos in the middle of the night 

hence he fell for you even harder 

especially bc he basically just shared his whole life story with you 

he’d spill out all his insecurities to you then you’d reply like ‘ok’ then he knew he had to ask you out bc you’re the first person not to have left him on read

so he asked you to meet him in the park and you’d reply ‘no lol  🖕 ‘ 

then he’d just smile at his phone like ‘wow, they’re so in love with me’

he’s just so used to his friends being mean to him jokingly that he can’t even tell if you’re being serious or not

so he goes to the park at the time he put forward, and ofc you’re there even though you said no bc you didn’t want tendō to show up for nothing 🥺

he was ecstatic that you were there and he probably brought you an energy drink or lollipop then asked you out

and ofc you said yes

i mean- you had kinda developed a soft spot for the poor guy 

you’d let him get away with certain things that others couldn’t around you 

for instance, you’d let him borrow your pencils/pens despite usually not allowing others to get ahold of your stuff

but that was just coz like- he’s your trustworthy bf- not some random classmate who had no reason or motive to be kind enough to return your pencils 

also, you’d let him cut in front of you in the lunch line and he did the same for you

oh and please bully anyone who makes fun of him 🙏

[oogaboogasphincter]

The 50/10 Method (Agent Whiskey x f!reader)

Summary: Jack makes the most of your 10 minute study break. 

Word Count: 2.7k+

Rating: E (explicit) 18+ ONLY! bc this is just cringey smut lmfao

Warnings: smut (oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (obvi use protection irl), very easily and conveniently reached orgasms (this is a fantasy i can do what i want skjfkd), dirty talk, one (1) allusion to thigh riding and one (1) instance of 💙spitting💙, fingering, positions i hope i've given enough detail so y’all can imagine what i was picturing💀), pet names (sweetheart, honey, cowboy *affectionately*, good girl, baby), there’s a sentence about reader having long-ish hair, reader and jack have a dog, swearing, reader is afab and is called things like good girl and the like, just overall trash grammar and structure 😇

Author’s Note: so this is very poorly written and extremely self-indulgent, as i myself use the 50/10 method 🙃. but i had a lot of fun with it, and i think that’s what writing is supposed to be all about! :) also i was heavily inspired to write this after reading “Take a Break” by @mellowswriting​ and “Study Buddy” by @pascalpanic​. please go check those out because they’re absolutely fantastic!!!!! +while you’re at it, i would highly advise you to read anything on their masterlists bc they’re just 💜exquisite💜

gif by @thernandalorian​

The lines of text on your computer screen are starting to blend into each other, creating a single run-on sentence that one of your previous English teachers would ridicule the author for. The sharp curves and angles that distinguish each letter from the next are becoming soft and dull, blurring into each other until your brain can only recognize it as a smeared streak of black on white.

It’s 11:00am on a Saturday, a big exam set for the upcoming Monday’s morning. You don’t feel rushed for time, or overloaded with unknown material, and the early hours of the day have been quite productive. Following a shared breakfast of homemade waffles in bed with Jack, your boyfriend, you didn’t complain when setting up your study station on the living room’s large oak table. If anything, you had been excited to begin studying early in the hopes of finishing your review by the end of the day. That way, tomorrow would be free for you and Jack to do whatever you pleased.

However, as the hours went by, your motivation was slowly but surely diminishing. The serene study atmosphere that you usually thrive in is now driving you mad. You yearn for a noise, any noise; a bird to sing a song in the tree outside your window, the smack of your dog’s loose wrinkles against each other as he attempts to shake the sleep out of him, a pencil unable to stop itself from rolling and dropping onto the floor with a tink.

You’re momentarily gifted with the crisp sound of a page turning. You flit your eyes over to gaze upon the source of your granted wish and your heart flutters in reaction to the sight: Jack’s resting on the couch, cowboy hat balanced on the back of it, deeply absorbed in the next installment of his favorite murder-mystery series. You find it curious that his desire for an adrenaline-filled challenge doesn’t stop when he comes home from mission after mission that nearly cost him his life. You’ll ask him about his insatiability one day, but for now you categorize it as fictional research for his Statesman assignments.

Your short glance quickly turns into an entranced stare. Jack looks... divine. Fetching. Luscious. As he’s lying on his back, neck propped up against the arm of the couch, his book balanced on his chest, relaxation radiates off of him in waves and utterly seduces you. You’re surprised that he hasn’t been a greater distraction to you throughout the morning. How have you managed to ignore the denim-wearin’, plaid-shirted, pornstache-sportin’ cowboy of your dreams that is only a few steps away?

Involuntarily, the thigh muscles of your crossed legs contract in an effort to bring some semblance of friction to your now weeping core. Similar to your imaginings of your dog earlier, you shake your head to force these heavy, unwanted feelings to dissipate and turn back to the work in front of you. Of course, Jack does the opposite of what you’d like him to do and takes an interest in your fidgeting. He peeks over the top of his book, “You cold, sweetheart?” 

His question is reasonable: you’re purposely wearing a skirt that’s so short it rides up quite high when you sit. You don’t dare to meet his eyes and answer while pulling a textbook close and opening it up, “No, I’m okay.”

Fortunately he returns to his reading. Your attention is able to retain itself for about a paragraph, but then your mind takes a sharp detour back to those pesky, steamy desires. You mentally huff at your inability to remain concentrated on your studies and rifle through the options of what you can do to satiate yourself for the time being. 

You could switch texts and force your brain to recognize the change and therefore become distracted. You could pick out some colored writing utensils and bring some fun to active reading. You could say fuck it, go straddle Jack and beg him to use you in whichever way he would like.

Jack interrupts your brainstorming, “Are you sure you don’t need a blanket or sumthin’? I can go get my jacket for ya.” 

The attentiveness of your southern lover melts your heart. You turn to him, “No, really, I’m okay, thanks.”

“I wouldn’t count a bathroom break as taking away from your 50 minutes, honey, if that’s what’s makin’ you twitch.” 

You had been implementing and strictly adhering to the 50/10 method all morning: study for 50 minutes, take a break for ten. Its effectiveness was never doubted, as it has proven to work for you for years. Only ten minutes into this 50 minute period, the devil of restlessness pokes at you and makes you think could time go by any slower? A hand comes up to cover the blush creeping across your cheek as you dismiss Jack’s suggestion, “No, that’s not it.”

Behind your embarrassed hand, Jack cocks an eyebrow at you. Your simple choice of words has given the Agent a hint, that there is something that’s bothering you, he just hasn’t figured it out yet and you don’t want to admit what it is for some reason. He returns to his book, however lost in thought about what your problem could be, while you task every cell in your body to pay attention to your studies. 

35 minutes remain on the clock, and Jack guesses, “Did you have too much coffee?”

You can’t help but grin at his sleuthing, “No, I just had my regular.”

He conjures up another possible solution five minutes later, “Are you itchin’ to get out of the house? We haven’t left in two days.”

He’s getting warmer. Both of you know exactly why you haven’t left the house in two days: you’d been occupied with activities of the sinful variety. You can’t gauge yet whether or not he knows he’s dancing around the answer, “Baby, you’re distracting me. And nope, it’s not that.” 

He smiles apologetically, “Sorry,” and uses his book as a partition, blocking your ability to procrastinate and just visually drool all over him.

Silence fills the next 20 minutes. Even though Jack is out of your sight, details from your observations exaggerate themselves in your mind to the point that they’re all encompassing, intoxicating. The way his jeans wrap around his legs ever so perfectly, the worn denim hugging those muscular thighs that he loves for you to grind yourself against when you’re feeling especially desperate (like now). How his plaid flannel slopes over the swell of his belly, stretching tight against his skin as his diaphragm contracts and deflating when he exhales. Even his large feet, strewn about lazily on the couch, his toes pointing in different directions, amuse you. 

Ten minutes remain in your study session. Feeling guilty about spending the majority of the last hour envisioning the seductive intricacies of your boyfriend, you actually start to study. 

“How many times do you think I can make you cum in ten minutes?”

Your eyes are ripped from your material and land on the menace lazing on the couch. He’s put his book down, one arm behind his head while the other is crooked, allowing himself to palm his cock through his pants. Jack’s wearing a shit-eating grin, bewitching your crossed legs to switch which one is on top; an excuse to apply more pressure to the yearning area between them. You fidget in the chair, shamefully trying to get the seam of your underwear to rub against you in just the right way. You shrug, “I-I’m not sure.”

He gets up and comes over to you, standing behind you and leaning forward to rest his chin on your shoulder. He murmurs in your ear, “I think we should find out during your next break.”

You turn to face him, “I think so too.”

He gives you a quick kiss, “Well, you better be a good girl and study for these last few minutes. Earn that break.” He places his large hands on either side of your head and turns it toward your materials, making you both laugh.

Somehow, you’re able to pay attention. Jack’s impending promise of ravaging you for ten minutes straight quells your jittering nerves and gives you something specific to look forward to. Before you know it, your alarm is beeping, alerting you that your break has commenced. Jack cages you by reaching forward and grabs the clock, programs it to ten minutes and keeps it in his hand. He grips the sides of your swivel chair, pulls it back from the table and spins you around to face him, the speed of the turn making your hair swoosh across your shoulders. Through mutual giggles, Jack lifts you up, winding your legs around his waist, your arms doing the same around his neck. “I want you to count for me how many times you cum.”

Breathlessly, you simply obey, “Okay.”

He practically runs to the bedroom. He sets the clock on the nightstand and turns the face towards the mattress so you don’t lose out on studying time. Tossing you onto the bed, your giggling continues as you bounce from the force. Jack hooks his fingers in your underwear and yanks them down, pulling them out from under your skirt and over your shoes. The way he wastes no time ridding you of any other garment makes blood and heat flood your center and air rush out of your lungs. He pushes your lost air back into your mouth with a kiss and then immediately retreats back to in between your legs.

He flicks the fabric of your skirt up onto your belly, letting himself have complete, unobstructed access to his early lunch. His fingers fondle your folds while his lips place sloppy kisses along the inside of your thighs. After he’s had his fill of that step, he sits back and stares at you: spread out for him, more than willing to take anything he wants to give to you. He blows out a whistle, eyeing your core, and you say, “Hey, you’re on the clock, cowboy. No time for dramatics.”

He nods, a smirk pulling at one side of his mouth, “You’re right, sweetheart.”

He spits onto your cunt, forgoing his usual gentle licks to adequately wet your pussy. A quiet fuck escapes your mouth as he plunges his tongue into you. Your fingers wind themselves in his chocolatey locks and pull, extracting an excited moan from your lover. His fingers knead the soft flesh on the backs of your thighs as he eats and when his mustache starts to tickle your clit, you’re done for. Your grip on his hair becomes vice-like and your whole body seizes up, constricted by enrapturing pleasure. You strangle out, “One.”

Jack unlatches his mouth only once he’s certain your first orgasm is complete. He stands, admires your wrecked expression, takes his cock out, spits into his hand and pumps his dick a few times. Hands slithering around your waist, he flips you onto your stomach and pulls your ass up, positioning you on your hands and knees. You’re a little bit dizzied by his manhandling in combination with his expert tongue, but this type of vertigo is the most enjoyable you’ve ever experienced. 

When he pushes into you, it’s a bit of a stretch because he hadn’t warmed you up with his fingers. He relaxes you by leaning forward, pressing his chest against your back and peppering soft kisses to your shoulder blades. The clink of his belt comically punctuates his thrusts, but your laughs are swallowed by intoxicated groans. You don’t know, and you don’t really care to figure out, how he already has you teetering on the edge of cumming again. Heightened senses tell you that you’re close; the fabric of his shirt feels unearthly soft as it brushes against patches of exposed skin, his fingertips are delightful lead in their clamp on you, his grunts and pants angelically reverberate in your skull. And then, suddenly and all at once, “Two.”

Jack’s pride shows itself in a smirk while he flips you onto your back. He makes a show of hooking your calves over his shoulders, eliciting laughter from the both of you. Resting almost all of his weight on top of you, your knees find your chest and his hands find your hair. The intimacy of it all is almost too much; his thumbs stroke your temples, palms cradle your head, those goddamned puppy-dog eyes bore into you. You turn your head in his grasp to check your timing: five minutes left. 

Jack’s tongue darts out to lick the pads of his fingers before he snakes it down in between the two of you to rub your clit. Your moans come out uncontrollably, your eyelids stutter and he eggs you on, “That’s it, sweetheart. Give me another one.”

Hearty moans are reduced to desperate gasps and you’re unable to verbally acknowledge the third orgasm that rips through you. Nonetheless, Jack can tell from the way your eyes roll into the back of your head and his name tumbles ferociously out of your mouth that you’re cumming. “’Atta girl.”

Jack takes his cock out of you and the whine that escapes your lips embarrasses you. He can’t help but laugh at your whimpering before he scoots down the bed and starts to eat you out again, framing his head with your quaking thighs. You find the strength to check the time, “Jack, there’s only a minute and a half left.”

He moans deeply into you, unaffected by your comment, and eases three fingers into your fluttering center. Like earlier, your hands fly to his hair like a magnet and find purchase so tight it makes your knuckles go pale. In a matter of seconds, circling your clit with his sopping tongue and tapping your g-spot with his deft fingers, Jack has you cumming yet again. This time you yell out the count, “Four!”

The sounds his ministrations make are lewd and exhilarating, pushing himself to his own precipice. You look down your body to find Jack’s other hand jerking his cock and his seed spilling out of him moments later. He groans into your pussy while you pet his hair, praising him for his efforts. 

Simultaneously, you both remember that you’re being timed. Your eyes meet the clock at the same time: 30 seconds. Jack springs from the bed and pulls you up with him, grabbing your discarded panties. He squats and taps your ankles so you lift your legs up, sliding each leg hole over your body and pulling your underwear up underneath your skirt. 

You fumble with his mussed clothes, stuffing his still-hard cock into his boxers, hiking his jeans up over his ass and zip and button them closed. You snake his belt around his waist and let his fingers do the work of buckling it before he picks you up bridal style and ushers you out of the bedroom, grabbing the clock off of the nightstand on your way out. 

Unhinged cackles follow you two down the hallway as you return to the living room. He plops you down in your chair, straightens you out, gives you a kiss on the cheek and then your alarm goes off. You raise your eyebrows at him, “Jeez, you didn’t waste a second.” 

He hums, then mumbles, “You get back to work now, babygirl,” and leaves you with a yearning kiss on the part of your hair.

Both of you return to your respective readings, hopelessly trying to downgrade your panting gasps to normal breaths. The absence of Jack’s warmth is already painful. But you rationalize that the indulgence of the last ten minutes is more than enough to get you through this next hour of studying, if not for longer.

Little do you know that Jack feels the same pain. His ache for your touch, sexual or not, will overtake him later and he’ll be unable to resist the temptation of coming over and distracting you again. Determined to finish your studying, you’ll propose a compromise: you can sit in his lap while he is lulled to sleep by the ambience of the afternoon rain and the enveloping comfort of you. The two of you can try to beat the record of four orgasms next semester. 

💘taglist: @pascalpanic​, @mellowswriting​

[hoe-imaginess]

just Hawks things

commissioned by anonymous. vaguely smutty hcs included 

True Bird Hours: he sleeps most comfortably sitting up with his wings fluffed and folded snugly around him, so he can nuzzle his face into them for the warmth

Yes when he’s got his boo with him, they are also invited to snuggle up in his wings

More birdie things bc why not:

He has an unconscious habit of picking through your hair: brushing fingers through it, fiddling with little pieces, nuzzling his face against it. He’s trying to preen you ok. Please let him. If you are not preened at least once a day… he has not done his job 

He also unconsciously fluffs his wings out and makes them a little bigger, more noticeable, when he’s flirting/talking to someone he finds particularly attractive. The bird instinct in him is screaming SHOW OFF YOUR WINGS SHOW OFF YOUR FEATHERS SHOW OFF YOUR PRETTY COLOR MMmmmm plsss look at this plumage bb

But he snaps out of it when he realizes what he’s doing because… omg it’s so embarrassing 

His sharp eyes also hone in and out when he’s looking at you because oof he is FIXATED on you. He likes what he sees he is looking DIRECTLY 

If you’re angry at him and lock yourself in the bathroom, he sits outside the door like awww come on babe. Don’t be like that. *slips a feather under the door to tickle you*

After a long day of hero work when he comes home to see you, he has either two moods when he gets into bed with you: he knocks tf out, or he can’t stfu 

You’ll really be out here trying to get some sleep and he is just running his mouth about all the hero work he had that day, how windy it was, how annoying one of his sidekicks was being—

Those intimate little forehead touches where you just… sit there and relax and simply exist together, eyes closed as you breathe in each other’s presence….. big Hawks mood. He feels so connected to you. He loves it

He doesn’t get jealous very often; he’s too busy for that and he knows how badly jealousy can spiral and ruin a relationship

But when he is jealous and feeling particularly beat up about it, he staves it off by keeping busy with hero work: something to take his mind off of the problem, so that he can think more rationally on it later

He simps for you so hard if you give him a massage. Hero work is tough ya know. He’s got a lot of tension in those shoulders and on his back. I mean, those wings are working overtime all day. Knead out all those knots in his muscles and oof you are getting his unmatched appreciation… and possibly his dick (because yeah, massages… get him really hard really fast)

He’s such a kisser. Kissing fiend. Serial kisser. Forehead kisses, nose kisses, NECK KISSES, throat kisses, hand kisses, thigh kisses (especially what‘s between your thighs)

He also cannot keep his teeth off of you: lots of nibbling and playful gnawing where he knows you’re most sensitive

That being said he tries REALLY hard not to leave hickies even though SHIT he really wants to sometimes. Sucking on that sensitive skin just below your ear reallllllllly gets him going. He wants to latch on and suck and bite while pressed up against you and just… wants to mark you up… whew it’s a struggle not to. His restraint is commendable 

Oh and yes he WILL kiss your toes

Let him worship those feet and ankles alright 

I’m not done talking about his kisses ok he’s such… a kissing expert. It’s unfair 

You want slow, intimate, tentative kisses that get your body hot and tingly and anxious for more? He will deliver. He loves lazy makeouts, and the little teasing nip he gives to your bottom lip just kajshkfjhsd delicious

But oh, you want hungry, desperate, wet kisses too? Yes please. He knows exactly what he’s doing. No awkward lip-sucking and no awkward tongue-poking in your mouth; he takes the lead until you’re dizzy from just the kisses alone. And his hands are running all over you while he’s doing it. You don’t even know how he’s giving you so much attention because you can barely think of anything but his lips on you, let alone put your own hands to work. When you try to reciprocate and reach for his pants you’re fumbly and clumsy because damn his kisses are literally breath-taking. It’s okay though, he’ll take care of everything. King of multi-tasking

Just imagine him giving you little nibbling kisses along your jawline until he moves back up to your lips, and bites the bottom one gently while looking into your eyes skjdhkjdhgd

Hawks is very sorry but marriage is not really on his agenda any time soon, if ever. Just being your man is enough for him

In fact, please tell people he’s your man. Boyfriend, partner, lover, booty call… yeah those are fine too

But your man? God… He finds that… extremely fcking hot

He has home-cooked meals like twice a year. He does NOT have the time. Honestly he wishes he did have more time, because there’s only so much on-the-go street food he can manage before he starts getting sick of it. No matter how delicious it is 

So if you happen to catch him when he’s free and wrangle him down for dinner, he’s shook. He feels absolutely PAMPERED when you cook for him. The food makes him drool but so does your cute ass cooking for him DAMN he feels so… he feels so Domestic™

You might need to… shoot him a text when you’re cooking next time so he can zoom by and grab a plate through your window. Domestic Fast Food. Give him that Scone App the Beef shit please he’s taking your food to go and he will bring the tupperware back later ok

His sidekicks look at him like… wtf?? when he returns to patrol with food. They’re like… Hawks, where did you get that? Where did you even go??

Him slurping his spaghetti: Uhhhhhhh sorry but I’m not sharing this

Oof it’s so hard for him when he’s missing you

He’s so horribly busy he’ll go weeks without so much as seeing your face. Every time he finds some spare time to go see you, even if it’s just twenty minutes, something comes up. He loves spending time with you but hero work has to come first

And forget keeping up through text or call. Sometimes he doesn’t have time for that either. Makes him feel like an asshole, and he gets these little pangs of anxiety when he thinks that you’ll start resenting him for his career, that you’ll start feeling neglected

He would definitely understand if that made you want to end the relationship though. It’s gonna hurt, but if that’s what you need, he understands—because those little pangs of anxiety aren’t just because he thinks you might leave him, but because he doesn’t want you to feel like you aren’t worth it

You are, you’re absolutely worth it and you’re absolutely a good and wonderful person. And he doesn’t want you to think otherwise just because he can’t give you what you deserve. Don’t let his busy lifestyle make you feel invalid because damnit he thinks you’re so valid and he tries so hard to let you know that

That being said… sorry, but he forgets birthdays sometimes

Doesn’t snore, even when he’s utterly exhausted, but just… sighs…. very cute-like

Otherwise he’s dead silent when he’s asleep, it’s almost scary. He’s alert at all times. Very light sleeper

One sound and he is 👁👄👁 awake

Lost his shit when he discovered snapchat filters because omg they’re so fun

When it comes to how soon he says I love you, it really depends

He falls fast and hard, which really throws him for a loop because he’s a composed and rational guy otherwise

He doesn’t have so much pride that he won’t tell you he loves you when he knows he means it. It’s just a matter of when he’s prepared to tell you

He doesn’t have one preferred nickname for you. He just has… so many. It’s like he spins a wheel every morning to decide what he’s going to call you

Sweetheart, honey, hon’, babe, baby, sweet thing, a simple girl/boy

The baby bird, chickadee, chick stuff is reserved for when he wants to see that sour, unamused look on your face because god they’re such corny nicknames and he knows it 

Rainy days suck because they weigh his feathers down, make his wings harder to flap and thus all the more difficult to get around with. His quirk is next to useless when there’s heavy rain so he’s out of commission the whole day. Just sulks around his agency until the weather clears 

But days of light showers are nice! Hawks loves giving his wings a little sprinkle, just a little cleanse. It’s so cute when he shakes the wings to dry them out

The first time he gets his heart broken… oof

He’s very socially adept due to his hero training. He’s also well-versed in flirting because that’s just part of the charisma he needs as a hero. Unfair as it might be he’s also not above charming people to get what he wants

But actual, truthful, organic romance?… He’s a little lost on that 

So when he finds somebody he really comes to love, only for that love to be taken away, he’s completely floored. It rattles him and it’s a brutal reminder of the dangers of getting emotionally involved with other people when he’s got such a complicated, demanding life. The heartache is too much and he can’t focus and he hates it

It eats at him for a long time. Something’s changed. He doesn’t take sentiment for granted anymore. He comes to fully respect—also resent—the way love can utterly change perspective

Romantically inept as he may be sometimes, he’s… still an absolute SIMP of a man 

Do not ever talk down to yourself when he’s around because he goes full cheerleader mode

He just wants to encourage you to find some of that self-love okay he thinks you’re fuckn PRECIOUS and DESERVING and AMAZING—how can you not see that you’re all those things???

He’s so proud when you start sticking up for yourself, or when you speak your mind. Even if it’s small, stupid things like actually telling the waiter that he brought you the wrong food instead of meekly going oh… ok… I guess I can eat this instead

like NO!! STICK UP FOR YOURSELF BABY!! He wants you to be the BEST you

And when he asks you “What do you feel like doing today?”, don’t even think about pulling some “Whatever you want to do, Hawks” bs on him because NOPE. Tell him what YOU want. Please don’t be afraid to have a voice ok because he loves it when you’re confident and clear with what you want

[nocturnalazura]

There are too many, I repeat, too many scenarious with Daddy Dabi. The most simple ones. Dabi comforts his baby after a nightmare, Dabi teaches the baby a swear word, Dabi feeds the baby and ot ends up being a mess… too many damn scenarious vut I leave that to you bc you’re the mastermind🙏🏻

EVERYBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP BECAUSE DABI COMFORTING HER AFTER A NIGHTMARE????? Ok anyway lets dive into these cute little scenes because I fucking can't. (Note: I have named their child Hina so for future reference on all future Daddy Dabi things she is now Hina) (also I wrote half of this on mobile so ignore any errors. I’ll fix it later)

Nightmares: It's late at night, their little apartment filled with silence until a quiet little voice cuts through the air of your bedroom.

"Daddy?" Comes a little whimper from the doorway.

It takes him a second but after another small whimper from the door he's sitting up and looking over to see a little shadow in the door way. The quiet sound of sniffling has him shooting up and moving to get to her quickly. Crouching in front of her, he doesn't even get a chance to say anything before she's launching herself into him, little body shaking as she trembles and cries, one little arm wrapped around his neck while the other holds onto her stuffed animal.

"Hina? Hey my little monster what's wrong?" He questions wrapping his arms around her.

"Daddy, monsters and noises and daddy!" Hina wails.

"Touya? What's wrong with Hina?" You mumbles sitting up to look over at their silhouettes in the doorway.

"I got her go back to sleep."

Picking her up he takes her back into her room, in the soft light of her little night light he can see all of the tears running down her face. She sniffles more and buries her face in his chest and continues to cry as he sits down on her bed.

"What happened?" He ask in the softest voice he can manage. She immediately launches into a warbled story of the nightmare she had, something about monsters and being alone somewhere no one could get to her. At the end of the story her tears start up again and she presses her face into him again sobbing. "Hina hey you're fine, I'm here, your mom's in the bedroom you're ok."

Leaning back against the wall he warms a hand and presses it against her back so she can feel the warmth through her top. It takes a little bit, rubbing small circles against her back while whispering the occasional reassurance to her before her cries finally start to stop. She sits up in his lap still clutching her little stuffie. His heart breaks a little as he looks over her tear stained face and bright blue eyes slightly swollen from sobbing.

“M sorry daddy.” Hina sniffs wiping her eyes.

“You got nothing to be sorry about. You ok?”

“Yeah.” She says rather hesitantly.

“You sure?” Finally she give a little shake of her head before falling back into his chest. “Hey, you know I’m not gonna let anything hurt you right?”

“I know.”

“You got nothing to worry about, most people are here are pretty scared of me so I’d say your safe.”

“Why are they scared of you?”

“That’s something you can find out about when your older.”

“Ok”

“Wanna try going back to sleep?” He asks rubbing her back again.

“Yeah, but can I sleep with you and mommy tonight?” She asks, bottom lip jutted out as she gives him her best puppy dog eyes.

“Fine. But only for tonight.” He sighs, standing he scoops her up before walking back to your bedroom and letting her crawl into bed first before sliding in after her. Snuggled up between the two of you she quickly falls back asleep completely unaware of you turning over to face them.

“She got you wrapped around her little finger mr.villain.” You joke quietly.

“Shut up.”

Teach that kid to talk

So Hina’s first word is either dada (because daddy’s girl) or she straight up just says a little jumbled version of fuck.

Now if her first word is dada you know damn well this man is proud as fuck. But this is his kid, she’s gotta have an edge to her. So not long after she starts saying a couple more words he sets to work. Every time you’re out leaving him alone with her, he’s got her seated on his lap as he stares at her very seriously.

“Hina come on you can say it. Say fuck.”

“Dada.” She gurgles followed by little giggles.

“Yeah I know you can say that. Come on say fuck. Say fuck for daddy.” He tried again even using a softer voice that could almost be considered baby talk. “Come on be a good little monster for daddy. Say fuck. Fu-ck.”

She just giggles and lets out happy little chirps or dada. This isn’t the end he keeps trying. He goes about this for another couple weeks. Until finally you’re happily playing with her, having a pretend conversation as she babbles nonsense and the few words she knows.

“What else can my baby say? Can she say mama?” You coax smiling at her. Dabi watches leaning on kitchen counter, picking at left overs you had saved him.

Then time stops, your cute, sweet, perfect little Angel of a daughter babbling away happily lets out a soft little “fwuck”

Your eyes widen, Dabi inhales and nearly chokes on his food and she giggles. You just stare at her trying to process if you heard her correctly. Dabi coughs loudly in the kitchen trying to clear his throat before finally bursting out in laughter. Not his normal little snort, or snicker, full on bent over can’t breathe laughter. You honestly can’t decide what’s more shocking, your baby cursing or the fact that Dabi is genuinely laughing. But that clears out quickly, as funny as it you can’t help but be a little ticked at him.

“Dabi?” You question calmly.

“Eh? What no Touya?” He says finally catching his breath.

“Fine, Touya, did you teach my baby to fucking curse!?”

Queue another little chirp of “fwuck!”

Feeding the monster.

Hina is a pretty good baby for the most part, she like many kids has her moments where she melts down but she generally good. Feeding her isn’t hard at all, at first. When it was just a bottle Dabi would usually find his spot on the couch lean against the armrest, pull his knees up some and prop her up there and hold the bottle for her. He’d adjust the way she sat as needed always making sure that she was ok. Solid food is a whole different ball game for this man.

You leave him to feed her while you take a much needed long and hot bath.

He’s got her set up in her little high chair, little bowl filled with, honestly he’s not sure what it is he wasn’t listening when you told him what it was but it smells good. Hina makes a grabby hand for the small spoon he has, frowning when he pulls it away. She lets out a dissatisfied huff of not getting her item.

“Calm it you little monster, I’m gonna give you your food.” He grunts.

She impatiently bangs her tiny fists on the tray of the chair and let out little grunts and huffs. Scooting closer to her he takes a little spoonful and over it to her. When she just stares at him he moves it closer letting it touch her lips for a moment before she finally opens to accept it. He repeats this process a few times, awkwardly moving his arm around when she tries to steal the spoon again. It’s going pretty good, she’s got some food on her face from turning her head away and smacking the spoon but not to bad.

Then she decides she’s pretty much done. Little hands grab at the spoon more insistently spilling it on the tray and at some points managing to grab it enough to have it flick food back on him when she lets go. Annoyance rolls off him in heavy waves when he makes the absolutely stupid mistake of setting the little bowl down to wipe the food off his face. The bowl immediately is knocked off the tray as she tries to grab at it but is just a little short. It falls, spills is contents on his shirt and pants as it goes tumbling to the floor leaving a little trail of food behind it.

“And we’re fucking done here.” He grumbles getting her out of the chair.

The moment he picks her up little food covered hands and her little face are are all over him. She presses her littler version of opened mouth kisses all over his cheek smearing more food on him while her little hands grab at his hair and shirt.

Stepping out of the bathroom wrapped in your robe you go to head into the bed room but stop and turn around again. Slapping a hand over your mouth you try your best to it laugh at him, standing there daughter now held away from as he grumbles at her. Both of them covered in food.

“Don’t you dare fucking laugh.” He snaps when he sees you.

“Would you like some help?”

“No id like to just stand here covered in food.”

“If you’re gonna be an ass I’m not gonna help you.” You growl pointedly, he deflated slightly as that finally pulling her back towards him as she starts to fuss. “Did she actually eat it or just cover the two of you in it?”

“She fuckin ate don’t worry not hurry up.”

[emersonfreepress]

ok ok in the spirit of community, how would the ros fair in a paintball war?

(referring to this ask! like the zombie au post this ended up making me think a lot 😅)

ohh... interesting, interesting... p sure the only paintball wars i’ve really seen were the ones featured in The League, Peep Show, and Community... but let me wrack my lil head...

ok, i ended up coming at this from multiple angles like the zombie au post 😅 always so much to consider in battle environments! and in the spirit of community, I'll stick with the individual player elimination style paintball match. in the woods with other e prep seniors. last one standing wins bragging rights

Gabe

Shooting skill | 6/10 - Experience with shooting and practice with Kile ofc

Stealthiness | 8/10 - He's done a fair amount of sneaking around during his after school activities, is super observant (or just paranoid lol), and naturally light on his feet. Good luck ambushing him.

Strategy | 8/10 - Strike deals. Do favors. Form alliances. Shoot 'em in the back once they’ve outlived their usefulness. ...What? It’s just paintball.

How does he win? | Graciously. Gabe likes winning, and especially via strategic manipulation, so it puts a smile on his face. And he's in a good mood so he treats a bunch of you to ice cream or smth 👀

How does he lose? | Slumps in frustration at being outwitted or taken off-guard, sulks about it for a little while. He's not that sore of a loser but needs time to lick his wounds and stop thinking of the different choices he could have made.

Kile

Shooting | 9 - The most accurate shooter of the cast and easily one of the best shots at E Prep. Lots of practice + talent

Stealth | 10 - They're stupid good at climbing trees and 100% consider that a valid method of ambushing their classmates. People start having flashbacks to 3rd and 4th grade recess and P.E. Scanning the trees. They just start taking people out with such efficiency it quickly starts ruining the game 😂

Strategy | 0? 10?? - “...Strategy? You just stay out of sight and kill 'em all, right?” (immediately scolded by Gabe for word choice 🙄) They really do mainly stay out of sight and pick people off with max stealth, like 😆 they'd be such a terror, people would need to take them out early for anyone else to stand a chance! They spend a lot of the game staking out the most frequented paths in the area and taking out groups quickly, all at once. Then they'll get around to stalking and picking people off one by one. The real fun...

Winner type | Stoic. Likes winning combat but the stakes were non-existent, so... the win is meaningless! this just infuriates the losers more 😅 such disrespect

Loser type | Sucks their teeth and tosses their paintball gun to the ground. "Y'all suck." (they're over it five mins later tho lol)

Jack

Shooting | 3 - This is nothing like shooting light guns... ☹️

Stealth | 5 - Not just due to his size making him an easier target, but homeboy is liable to get distracted by a cute squirrel or some pretty flowers 😂 He's not great at keeping his voice down either so good conversation would make him easy to seek out. He's just out here enjoying a beautiful day 😅

Strategy | 7 - All that movie-watching (and DMing) make him a valuable creative mind for problem-solving, but he needs a cooperative team to be effective. Rescued and recruited by Rupan/Rohan early on in the game ^ ^

Winner type | Disbelief! And everyone’s content and satisfied with him winning. Except Vivian/Vincent, that jealous fool

Loser type | Doesn't mind losing at all! He just hopes he was a good teammate and was glad to have fun ☺️

Jessie

Shooting | 7 - Comes from a family of hunters, girly knows how to shoot.

Stealth | 6 - Familiar enough with woods and stalking prey to be capable of sneaking around. Having too much fun to not giggle and get overly invested in the developing plot of the game. Even more easily distracted by critters and flora than Jack 😅

Strategy | 5 - Oh, she's just here to have fun. She'll go with whatever the person she's teaming up with decides, but can adapt easily enough.

Winner type | Surprised... then elated! Bouncing and happy and it's completely contagious. No hard feelings about a single thing. Convinces Heidi to invite people to the Emerson Estate—it's a hot day and they have a nice pool

Loser type | Same as Jack! Congratulates the winner with a hug because she's sweet like that 🧁

Rain

Shooting | 2 - This... thing is so cumbersome. And ugly. At least it shoots pretty colors.

Stealth | 7 - Small and used to sneaking around different environments and seeking out hiding spots. Their height and frame makes them harder to spot too.

Strategy | 4 - Hide!!! They’re not getting assaulted with paint and pellets!! Especially not after managing to make this ugly jumpsuit look cute?? Waiting it out is perfectly legitimate. Might share snacks if you decide to join them in hiding 😆

Winner type | Falls asleep in an unexpectedly cozy hiding spot and emerges as everyone thought they’d declared the winner. I imagine R and others yelling at them to get their gun while the original winner scrambles to get theirs, just for Rain to win by pure luck of the draw. Won’t stop them bragging about it, though! (I want this spurned runner-up to be Vi bc ofc)

Loser type | "So I can stop holding this thing?" Yawn. "I'm so hungry and bored, we've been at this for hours..."

Rupan/Rohan

Shooting | 4 - Ah, shit. These don't shoot anything like light guns.

Stealth | 7 - They sneak out and around town a lot 😂 They just force themself to be careful about how loud grass and bushes are.

Strategy | 7 - They’re treating this shit like an action movie and banding together a ragtag team of misfits to take down the strongest alliances and players. Savvy enough to reject Gabe’s and Curt’s offers to join, not opposed to strategic backstabs. They're very clearly just as focused on having fun as they are on winning—and playing Predator, which honestly works with Kile runnin around. They even brought war paint and borrowed a tactical vest. Is it mostly packed with snacks and weed? Maybe. Does it prove useful for negotiations? Hell yeah.

Winner type | Raucous celebration, just pure joy and adrenaline ☺️ Celebrates with their team, brags a bit, rubs it into Vi's face, makes fun of Curt, the usual. Then invites allies out to get pizza because it's the obvious next step

Loser type | Mostly disappointed they can't keep playing. They're a little sore about being left out of the action, but soon just start chatting with other marked players about how the game went for them. Plenty entertaining on its own, they want all the details

Vivian/Vincent

Shooting | 5 - They've got a little bit of shooting experience.

Stealth | 4 - They're overly sensitive and hate being in nature. Their skin is sticky, they keep feeling bugs everywhere, they've gotten dirt all over their pants, it's so hot, they keep WALKING into SPIDERWEBS, [flails about, screaming furiously]

Strategy | 8 - They have good ideas, they're just difficult to execute alone, especially since they're getting sunburnt and getting crankier and can't stop swatting at insects 😅 they're one of the first people to figure out that someone's taking out groups from the trees, so they stay solo and try to find a single person to team up with. Really what they need is someone who's a better shot but easy to boss around. They can probably just owe them for an in-school favor...

Winner type | Barely suppressed gloating. Vi somehow finds a way to be an obnoxious winner almost entirely by the look on their face. Once they're in a smaller group, they're passionately discussing the details of the game and happily boasting about their triumphs (while glossing over all of the whining and and slip-ups lol)

Loser type | Booo, such a sore loser. (Especially in the scenario where Rain wins 🤣) If they're outsmarted or outgunned in a clear, transparent way they'll growl and stomp off, then quietly glower and sulk for way too long. If they're double-crossed or beaten in an underhanded way oh lord —they're fighting it to the end. R can't help but get involved either way, reminding them it was a damn game with literally no prize. "C'mon, Vi, chill. You want ice cream? Let's get you ice cream."

Heidi

Shooting | 6 - Some shooting experience.

Stealth | 8 - She's very aware of her surroundings and her body. Perceptive yet quiet. Tactical. All residual traits picked up from her many activities over the years.

Strategy | 9 - Most likely to outsmart everyone. The first one to figure out groups are being targeted from the trees. Goes it alone and only open to trading (unless she sees Curt with Jess in which case she puts a quick pin in her plans to rescue her 😂). She also immediately figures out it's Kile, because ofc it is. Keeps close tabs on what groups are doing, knowing that eventually Kile will come down to ground level to pick off individuals and couples. Predator becomes prey 👀

Winner type | Proud but not boasting. She doesn't need to be. Victory looks good on her, natural and fitting. Thanks everyone for a good game then takes the girls for a long ride in the Cadillac 😎 top down on a bright day, baby

Loser type | Damn. She should have won this. Maybe if she'd... She probably could have... Then she snaps out of it, roped in by the celebratory mood of congratulating the winner. She's over any feelings of frustration or regret after getting to discuss the match with the person that took her out/the winner and there's no hard feelings. If anything this was fun as hell, it should be an annual thing. ☺️

Curt

Shooting | 8 - Some shooting experience and a natural knack for it. Good reflexes.

Stealth | 8 - Curt likes to say he gets along with the woods around these parts. Sneaking around is second nature to him. Really good hearing too. He's an easy target if you manage to seduce him though, having no issue leaving himself vulnerable if it means that kind of fun 😂

Strategy | 7 - Honestly, he's most interested in seeing how long he can get away with using charm and seduction for both protection and double-crossing 😂 Eventually becomes persona non grata and gets all of his ammo stolen by a vengeful mark, barely getting away in the process. Since that jig is up, he finally starts thinking a win might be nice... and so he teams up with the only competent player who would never betray him and also inspires the least vitriol in others: Jessie. What? Is his back-up plan using her as a human shield? No! 😚 Of course not! 👉👈

Winner type | Insufferable and gloating. Rubs it in a lot of people's faces, specifically Heidi, Rupan/Rohan, and any participants who genuinely don't like him. Brags to Gabe (who is completely disinterested in gassing him up 😂), then promises he'll make things up to Jessie (who didn't mind and had fun lol). Then celebrates by asking whoever he's flirting with these days for a quick date—and a ride in the Ferrari. Makes a scene pulling out of the parking lot. Ass.

Loser type | Doesn't care one bit as long as he had fun! And he always finds a way to have fun, it's why he's so carefree 😅

[in-tua-deep]

Prompt idea that I sincerely don't know anywhere else to put out, but what if, one mother of the seven like... delayed giving up the baby idk why, but like, in the end the child goes to the academy, but like... they know the world outside this mansion full of all sorts of abuse and violence, and so is trying to bring good sense and awareness to all of other children somehow, even though like... you don't know very much or correctly the things in general, but is trying anyway because yeah

okay okay i will bite

it's gonna be Five bc u know how I roll by now and you didn't specify a child, so this is a non-twin world uwu

I see some people naming him Fievel so we're gonna have to go with that, nicknamed Five by the other kids who thought it was absolutely hilarious to ask "which one?" whenever Reginald snaps “Five!”

Though officially, of course, Five is number seven.

So Fievel is born in a park to a mother who was never prepared to have achild, but held him in the hospital and looked into the eyes of a man offering her money for her newborn and she says - no. 

Because she’s poor, yes, and she’s working two jobs to make ends meet, and this man might be able to provide for her child but - she doesn’t like the fact that he offered her money. As though he could place a price on a human life.

(His stupid mustache might have played a role as well. Bastard.)

So she keeps little Fievel, and it’s hard. It’s so hard. Babies are expensive, and she was barely making enough as it was, but her best friend works from home and offers to take him sometimes during the day instead of a more expensive daycare. Some of her other friends ask around relatives and friends and hunt through garage sales until she has a passable amount of baby items.

It would be easier if Fievel wasn’t such a precocious child. He’s curious and into everything, a loud baby that demands attention. 

“C’mon Fi,” She begs her three-year-old son from where she’s draped across the sofa. Aren’t kids supposed to sleep a lot? Why did she end up with the one kid in the world who is on the go twenty four seven? “Can we please take a nap?”

“No.” Fievel says with a mulish look in his eyes and he shoves a book towards her face and almost takes her eye out with a corner of it, “Wead to me.”

And she sighs, and she’s so tired, but she hauls herself up and pats the sofa next to her and her little boy beams at her with such - such love that it almost takes her breath away. “Dogger, again? How many times have we read this?”

Fievel kicks at her with his little soft foot, and she catches it in a hand and smiles and she drops the book in her lap to bring her other hard over to dust feather light fingertips against her baby’s sides.

He’s terribly ticklish and giggles even as he shrieks “NO” loud enough that their neighbors will probably complain to her about it again. But in that moment she doesn’t care as she brings her head down to blow raspberries on her son’s stomach and make him laugh.

She loves him so much. 

(But she never has any time. Her friendships are more distant now, because she’s either at work or spending time with her son. She’s always exhausted because she works such long hours and Fievel keeps her awake when she’s a home. She doesn’t blame him, he didn’t ask to be born into the world any more than she asked for him, really. But it’s hard.)

Fievel is a curious child. She takes him to children’s museums and zoos on the discount days and watches him run around with seemingly endless energy. She has to keep a careful eye on him otherwise he will disappear, get distracted and wander off no matter how many times she’s tried to tell him to never do so.

Then he turns four.

Her baby is so smart. And he’s restless. And even though the place she works has a daycare through them, the people there are one incident away from banning Fievel. She thinks that’s dumb, considering they’re the ones that didn’t watch Fievel closely enough and lost him almost four times in recent months. 

So she signs him up for preschool.

She gets him a brand new outfit for the day, fussing over him until he’s all squirmy and pouty and slapping her hands away with all the grump that a four-year-old can muster. 

She sends him off to daycare with ruffled hair and a wide smile and tries not to worry too much.

She’s at work when she gets a call from the school informing her that they’ve lost her son. She hurriedly lets her boss know and sweeps out of work without a backwards glance, showing up at the school just as her phone rings again and a flustered individual informs her that they’ve located him.

“I have no idea how he got out.” The frazzled teacher looks close to tears when she meets with the poor woman, giving Fievel a fierce look that promises that they will be having a talk about this. 

“I din’t do anything.” Fievel pipes up mulishly, “I didn’t go nowhere, the class did.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose, and faces the teacher apologetically. After a pointed comment from a friend, she’s been vaguely looking into ADHD since her kid is like this, “I’ll have a talk with him.”

“I’ll - I’ll make sure to keep a better eye on him.” The woman looks floored that she isn’t tearing strips out of the school administration for losing her toddler. Actually when it’s phrased like that she probably should be more pissed off. But she also knows her kid and what a handful her is.

So she takes him home and sits him down.

“This can’t happen again, Fi.” She tells him, and he’s got his little arms crossed and he’s pouting with his entire body. “I mean it. I had to leave work, and you know I have to work.”

“You don’t hafta.” Fievel says harshly, “What about me?”

She sits on the couch next to him, heart heavy, “Baby, you know I have to work so that we can have things and go places.”

Her son scrabbles up on his knees and puts his hand on her arms and gives her big eyes, “I don’t need lotsa toys. An’ we don’t hafta go to the zoo.”

“Oh baby,” She pulls him into her arms and lets him snuggle into her, “I gotta work. And you gotta go to school and be good. Okay? You can’t be leaving the classroom again.”

“I din’t mean to.” Fievel sniffles, and she hugs him just a little tighter as the tears start to flow.

“It’s okay.” She murmurs into his hair, “I got you.”

To his credit, Fievel does his best. He still manages to leave the classroom somehow, seemingly whenever the teacher is looking away. No one seems to know how he does it. Emma who sits next to him exclaims that he just vanished like he went BAM and wasn’t there all of a sudden!

(Oh, the imagination of four-year-olds, the teacher thinks to herself.)

But whenever he does he seems to come back within fifteen to thirty minutes. Sometimes the teacher doesn’t even notice he’s gone before he’s knocking on the (locked) classroom door to be let back in. They don’t call his mother about the incidents anymore and the teachers nickname him Houdini with a sort of despair. 

Fievel is four-and-a-half when he’s taking a walk with his mother down to the park. He’s got his little rainboots on because he always wades into the pond and he likes the slosh of the water on his feet when it goes over the top, and his little duck shirt. He’s making loud quacking noises which don’t actually sound anything like a duck but when he looks at her for approval she nods with a smile.

They’re crossing the road at the crosswalk, holding hands because they always do, when the car comes careening around the corner.

She can’t react in time, eyes widening and she’s hollering and she moves to push her son and she only has eyes for him as she places her body between him and the car and - 

She watches his eyes go wide and afraid and she 

watches

him

disappear

and then the car clips her and she’s sent sprawling and that’s the last thing she remembers.

She wakes up in the hospital hours later with a concussion, a broken arm, several broken ribs, and a lots of scrapes. She’s lucky, they tell her. She demands to know where her son is. 

Hours later, when she’s worked herself up into a right tizzy, her son sprints into the room followed shortly by some very harried looking cops and she has to haul him into the bed so that he doesn’t hurt himself getting up.

“Gentle, gentle.” She warms him, wincing when he bangs a knee into her bad ribs, “I’m a little tender at the moment, baby.”

“You got hurt!” Fievel yells at the tops of his lungs and then immediately bursts into loud and terrified tears. So she ignores her bad ribs and messed up arm and cradles him close to her making shushing noises and stroking his back until he’s cried himself out and drops off right there in the hospital bed.

She gets out of the hospital with a cast and a bill she can’t afford right now and she sits Fievel down on the couch.

She wants to write off the fact that her son literally vanished before her eyes to the concussion. But - she thinks about a locked preschool classroom and a son that has a tendency to vanish when she takes her eyes off of him and -

It makes too much sense.

“Baby.” She asks, “Can you teleport?”

“What’s tell-ee-port?” Fievel asks, scrunching up his nose.

“Do you find yourself in other places without getting up and going to them?”

“Yeah.” Fievel states it so easily, like she’s dumb. “I told you so.”

She pressed her fingers to her face, “Can you do it now?”

Fievel frowns and then scrunches up his face real hard and then -

He’s gone. And then he’s opening his bedroom door and scurrying back out. He runs over and tugs at her pants eagerly, “I did it! Did I do good?”

She crouches down and ruffles his hair even though it kills her ribs, because she can’t pick him up with a broken arm. “Yeah baby,” She praises him, mind moving at an hour a minute, “You did good.”

That night she lays in her bed and watches Fievel’s chest rise and fall as he sleeps. He sprawls out like a starfish but sometimes in the night always buries himself into her side like a tick. She’s put a pillow in between them to try and spare her poor ribs, but she has doubts it will work.

Her son can fucking teleport.

That’s when she cries. Because she loves her son, but he’s a handful. She didn’t even notice. She didn’t notice that he son has a superpower. Doesn’t that make her the worst mother in the world?

Crying is a terrible idea. Her ribs are painful enough that she can’t sleep. She needs to ration her pain medication because they really can’t afford it. 

How is she supposed to handle this? How is she supposed to raise a child that can vanish without a second thought? Her bright beautiful boy who loves feeding the ducks and being pushed on the swings and playing unfathomable games with his friend Emma that she can’t even begin to understand the plot of.

(She’s almost certain one of them is supposed to be a cheetah for some reason? Or a lion? There’s a lot of running involved in the game, and hiding.)

It’s a few months later when her arm is healed and her ribs are better and Fievel is turning five when everything comes crashing down. Because she doesn’t get a call from the school. She gets a call from the police.

Apparently Fievel managed to get out of the school far enough away that he got lost. He admits tearfully to her that he’s been getting further and further away when he ‘jumps’ - and it’s not his fault. He tries not to jump. But it happens whether he wants it to or not and if he keeps getting further and further away then -

She thinks of a car and a road and putting her body between death and her son. And she thinks about the fact that when he jumps, she isn’t there.

Look. She’s not stupid. She always knew that her kid wasn’t exactly a normal child.

(Hello. He’s practically a miracle. She wasn’t exactly a virgin but that doesn’t really matter when she was very suddenly nine months pregnant where she hadn’t been before.)

So she reckons that the powers have something to do with that. And who does she know that definitely has a child who was also one of the miracle babies?

(He’d mentioned he’d already acquired like, what, four kids when he came to see her. As though that was supposed to make her want to give up her kid even more.)

So she requests some vacation days (that she can’t afford) and she pulls Fievel out of preschool for a week (it’s preschool it’s not that important) and they fly over to a city where she can hopefully get some answers.

(Fievel spends the whole flight with his face pressed to the window and his plane toy clutched tightly in one hand and his stuffed dog in the other as he enthusiastically makes whooshing noises.)

And she goes up the the big mansion thing and knocks and goes inside where she smiles at Fievel and tells him to go play with the other children while she talks to Mr. Hargreeves, thank you baby.

As she clenches her hands into fists and listens to Sir Reginald Hargreeves condescend to her about her ability as a mother, Fievel enthusiastically bounces over to the kids his age who stare at him like they’ve never seen anything like him before in their life.

(“I’m Fievel!” He introduces himself loudly, “And this is Doggy! My mama is here to speak to your dad.”

“Uh. I’m Six.” A bewildered little girl says back.

Fievel blinks, “Oh! I just turned five.”

The girl giggles, “No! No I mean my name’s Six. but I’m five-years-old as well.”

“That’s a funny name.” Fievel says.

“Nuh uh.” The girl refutes, “Your name is weird. See, ‘cause we’re all numbers ‘n you’re not.”

And he’s introduced to them all. One is tall and awkward looks. Two hides behind the others a little bit. Three has her hands on her hips and she looks at him, but softens when he tells her that he likes her hair. Four is a skinny wisp of a kid, with big wide eyes and no sense of personal space. Five sticks pretty close to Four. And Six, of course, is the one who talked to him first which obviously means that they’re temporary best friends.

Temporary, because of course Emma is his best friend. ‘Cause she’s in his class and they sit near each other and play together with each other first.)

And his mother comes out to Fievel bossing the others around and them going with it, all with bewildered little expressions on their faces. Fievel is balancing on the back of the sofa next to a little girl who is holding Doggy, possibly in the middle of an evil villain speech? The little girl is solemnly petting Doggy like she’s a Bond villain at the very least.

It makes her smile, just a little bit. 

“Fievel, baby, can you come here for a second?” She asks, and her son beams at him and vanishes from his seat over to by her leg where he pulls on her leg so that she’ll sweep him up into her arms. 

(The children gape at him, all wide eyes and staring between them and their father like they’re shocked. And they probably are. Reginald has informed her that none of them can teleport, but they do have a variety of weird powers between them.)

“You know that you’re getting big.” She says, and she tries not to cry, “And you’re not going to be in preschool soon enough.”

“Yeah!” He enthuses, “Gonna learn real stuff!”

And that’s just like her son. Voraciously hungry for knowledge. 

“Well, this is a school for very special people.” She tells him, and watches his eyes go big and round, “People who... can teleport, for example.”

Fievel considers that. And then twists around to look at the other children, “You can teleport?” He demands loudly, like it’s a betrayal of the highest form that they’ve been friends for an hour and this hasn’t been brought up. And maybe it is. She doesn’t claim to understand the intricacies of children’s hierarchy.

“Uh uh!” A little boy exclaims, frowning. “I can just throw stuff real good.”

“I’m strong.” Another little boy offers. And then proceeds to demonstrate this by picking up half the couch and sending the little girl careening onto the floor with a shout, but she gets up and dusts herself off easily enough.

“Okay.” Fievel says brightly, appeased by this somehow as he twists back to his mother expectantly. 

“Okay.” She says, her mouth dry. “Well. This is a special school for special kids. It’s, uh. It’s a boarding school.”

“What’s that?”

“It means you stay here.” She tells him. “I’ll - I’ll come and see you when I can. And you can call me whenever you want. But you have to stay here.”

“Like a sleepover?” Fievel asks, scrunching his face up in confusion.

“A little bit.” Her smile feels weak and forced and she can’t even see it. “Like a lot of sleepovers all in a row. And when you wake up, you don’t need to go anywhere because you live at the school.”

“Uh uh. I live at home.”

“Baby...” She cards her fingers through his hair. “I know it’s scary. I don’t want you to go either - ”

“Then I don’t gotta.” Fievel says, matter of fact as he starts wiggling to get down. She hefts him up in her arms.

“Baby. Fievel. Listen to me.” She says firmly, “I can’t take care of you well enough.”

He looks at her with betrayed eyes.

“It’s not your fault. You can’t control your powers.” She tells him softly, because she loves him and she doesn’t want to give him up but - “I can’t keep you safe, baby. And the teachers can’t keep you safe. But you’ll be safe here.”

“I don’t want to.” Fievel says, loudly. In the tone which says that a tantrum is approaching.

“You’ll learn how to control your powers!” She says in a forced cheery voice.

“I’m going to school with Emma.” Fievel insists in a slightly louder voice.

“You’re already getting along great with the other kids.” She insists.

“NO.” Fievel says, at maximum volume, and then he’s gone from her arms and she’s stumbling because it’s weird to go from holding something to nothing.

“He’ll show up in a bit.” She assures Sir Hargreeves, beyond tired. He’s been watching the whole interaction and she hopes he hasn’t gotten a negative impression of her son. 

If he’s able to handle six other super powered children then surely he can handle hers. No matter what he asks. No matter how difficult it was to sign over the rights to her child. He promised that she can visit Fievel on weekends whenever she wants, for however long her son wants to do so.

He’s going to keep her child safe. He won’t be running out onto streets. He’ll be able to train his powers, be able to control them, and maybe one day - 

(Maybe one day she’ll get her baby back. Safe and sound in her arms and able to control his powers so she doesn’t have to worry at all.)

So she leaves, and she leaves Fievel alone. And no matter how much he screams and cries and begs, no one lets him go back to his mother. He tries to run off, tries to jump away and follow after her - but a blond woman in pristine skirts comes and retrieves him. 

(He tries to jump away, but she keeps coming and finding him until he’s too tired to protest when she carries him back to his new (prison) school in her arms.)

Reginald tries to lock him in his room. He jumps out. Reginald tries to put him in time out. He jumps out. Reginald says he doesn’t get any dinner. Fievel jumps downstairs and raids the cupboards in the night.

It becomes an intense battle of wills between Sir Reginald Hargreeves and little Fievel.

Locks go on the cabinets, Fievel breaks them off by bashing them with one of the bookends he manages to snag. Reginald refuses to let Fievel play with the others. Fievel runs away again and has to be brought back by the blond lady. 

(“You can call me Grace if you’re so against mom.” she had told him demurely, after he yelled himself hoarse telling her that she’s not his mother that he has a mother and that she’s so much better in every way)

Then Reginald takes Doggy away, and Fievel begrudgingly has to fall in line lest he risk his stuffed companion. One of the only links to his real life he has.

(He doesn’t even get to keep his clothes. He has to wear the stiff awful uniform that the other kids wear. It’s the absolute worst. He looks stupid but no one listens to him.)

When his mother comes to visit, Fievel is sullen and still angry with her for abandoning him. He sulks and doesn’t talk to her a lot.

He grows like this. The Umbrella Academy turns six, and then others receive names after Fievel loudly points out that having numbers for names is weird and that no one should ever trust a man who names his kids numbers it’s lazy and stupid.

So One becomes Luther and Two becomes Diego and Three becomes Allison and Four becomes Klaus and Five becomes Ben and Six becomes Vanya.

And Fievel becomes Five.

They all think it’s really funny, that they all get names instead of numbers and Five gets a number instead of a name.

He’s six and Reginald sits him down and tells him in no uncertain terns that his mother essentially sold him. That Reginald controls him. And if Five isn’t a good boy then... well. Bad boys don’t get to visit their mothers.

(Reginald finds a far more... effective way of controlling Five than a stuffed animal.)

(Good boys also don’t talk to their mothers about their training. They smile and act happy and lie because they want to keep seeing her. They don’t tell her about how scary it is, how they desperately want to come home, how maybe their mother could take all the kids because they don’t even have mothers and it isn’t fair.)

So Five grows bigger, gets new uniform, clashes with Reginald as much as he dares, and settles in to life at the academy. He sprawls across Vanya’s floor and tries to remember all the story books he read with his mother.

(There’s only grown up books in the manor that they’re expected to read. And Five likes them, he loves to learn, but - he misses storytime. He misses the wonderful books about adventure and other worlds. He misses when he felt like he was going to go on an adventure because he had powers and was special!

He doesn’t wish he’s special anymore.)

Vanya asks him once why he hangs out with her, because she’s normal. Because she doesn’t have powers.

And Five looks at her and tells her that that’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. He spend years surrounded by people without powers. He tells her about his best friend Emma, who definitely didn’t have powers. 

“I wish I had a best friend.” Vanya tells him, face sad and drawn and Five pulls her into the fiercest hug he can.

“You’re not my best friend,” He tells her, and she looks even sadder until he finishes it up with, “You’re my sister.”

“But you have a mother.” She says, sounding confused.

Five shrugs, “Doesn’t matter. Reginald is legally my dad, and he’s legally your dad, and so we share a dad. That makes us siblings.”

“Is a sibling better than a best friend?” Vanya asks after a long moment of silence.

Five doesn’t think so. He misses Emma. He misses his preschool. He misses his life, the life before the Academy. But Vanya looks so sad and pale that he hugs her again and says “Yeah, of course. We’re family.”

The others tolerate him in varied amounts. Luther thinks he’s dumb because he’s always mean to Reginald. Five thinks Luther is dumb, and he’s definitely right. Allison constantly bugs him for information about what she terms “the outside world” and Five has told her about birthday parties at least a dozen times and she still looks wistful and asks him to tell her about them again.

(They turn eight and Five produces a paper crown for his sister because she looked so wistful when he described Emma’s birthday tiara. Allison wears it until Reginald snaps at her to get rid of it, but Five sees her tuck it in the waistband of her skirt rather than throw it away.)

When Reginald snaps at Diego for his stutter, Five snarls and snaps back, getting between the man and his new brother and yelling because he knows that’s not how you help kids! Yelling doesn’t help! His teacher said so! And his mama!

Diego is never particularly thankful for his interference, but Five doesn’t care. 

Five is nine and he jumps into the mausoleum with Klaus and holds his most fragile brother and snarls, threatens to run away. To take Klaus and just go, that they’d go to Five’s mother and she would take them away from Reginald and this place and - 

Klaus always buries himself into Five’s side with his hands over his ears until the morning when Five either jumps away or glares with furious eyes at Reginald even when he’s punished after.

He’s nine when he gets into a screaming match with Diego who says that Five isn’t one of them that he has his mother and if he had the chance he would abandon them in a heartbeat.

Reginald threatens to cut off his mother’s visits if he finds Five interfering with “Number Four’s training” one more time.

Five looks at Klaus, who is his brother. Who is frail and skinny and pale with dark bags underneath his eyes.

Reginald looks satisfied because Five has always backed down before when his mother is threatened. It’s his ultimate trump card.

Five is so very very tired of his mother being used against him. And he loves Klaus. And these kids, they are his siblings. (He tries not to think about the fact that next year he’ll have officially been here just as long as he was with his mother. He hates it.)

Reginald finds Five in the mausoleum with cobwebs in his hair and his brother against his side and a glare on his face and Reginald forbids his next visit with his mother.

Five keeps jumping into the mausoleum. Klaus looks at him with wonder in his eyes and Five pries up the floorboard that hides Doggy (because even after Reginald found a better way to threaten him, he remembers) and cries himself to sleep. 

“You chose us.” Ben states instead of asks, very quietly, when they’re studying together. 

“My mother can look after herself.” Five says stiffly, not taking his eyes off the page. “Klaus can’t.”

Ben doesn’t say anything more, but Five feels eyes on his back for a good long while after that.

When Five is ten, they debut for the first time. They go to the bank, and stop the robbers.

(“We can’t send Ben in,” Five insists, “They’ll die!”

“They’re robbers.” Luther scoffs, crossing his arms.

“Doesn’t matter. They’re still people.” Five insists. “You definitely aren’t supposed to kill people. It’s a law.”

“Shut up, Five.” Diego says grouchily, “We just need to get this over with.”

“Dad’ll be pissed off if we let any of them escape.” Allison says, and the whole group goes quiet as they consider their father’s disappointed fury.

“I’ll go.” Ben mutters reluctantly, and Five tries to meet his eyes but the other boy slips into the vault before he can. The group stands silently as they listen to the screams and watch the blood splatter.

“This is wrong.” Five whispers.

“This is how it is.” Klaus whispers back, sounding defeated.

They don’t talk about it, after.)

Five smiles for the camera and lets Klaus lean on his shoulder and steals a thing of tissues from a reporter’s purse and uses them to wipe more of the blood from Ben’s face with a tight smile and the world goes on.

(He doesn’t know his mother watched. Doesn’t know the fury she flew into. Her son was supposed to be safe - he was supposed to be at a school. Why the fuck was he stopping a bank robbery like some kind of little child soldier?

She becomes a problem. And Reginald can be awfully practical about problems.)

Five is ten-and-a-half and he hasn’t seen his mother in a year and a half. And he’s tired and he’s rebellious so one day he sneaks out and finds a pay phone and the only reason he remembers his number is because his mother made him memorize it and quizzed him frequently.

(He’d gotten lost so often from wandering away and accidentally jumping. His rules were to approach either women with children or people who worked wherever and ask them to call her.)

Except the call can’t connect. Disconnected number. 

Five frowns, and end up doing some research which involves massive lies to the library, and then he has a picture of a newspaper obituary in his hands and a hole in his heart.

Car accident, the paper says.

Five crumbles it up, and then smoothes it out again because there’s a picture of his mother next to the article and Five doesn’t have any pictures of his mother. So he hides it under the floorboards next to Doggy and cries himself to sleep and then he gets up and does his training and doesn’t talk about it.

He doesn’t tell his siblings. Not even when Luther blows up and calls him a stuck up brat who can go cry to his mommy if he think it’s so bad here. Not even when Klaus jokes about running away with a cracking voice in the mausoleum, not really jokes at all. Not even when Vanya asked him for another of his mother’s stories and he started crying in the middle of them. He’d just told her it had been a hard day of training.

(Vanya never asks him questions if he mentions training. He feels bad about lying to her and using it as an excuse but...)

He waits for Reginald to tell him. He waits, because surely someone would tell him that his mother is dead. He’s her son. 

Reginald never tells him. He tells Five that he’s bad and still hasn’t earned back his visiting privileges. Five hates him so much. So so much. 

Five is twelve-years-old and he is sprawled across Vanya’s bed after a particularly brutal day of training. Reginald has been trying to overtrain Five the day before he puts Klaus in the mausoleum overnight so that Five will be too tired to jump in. It doesn’t work, but it’s an exhausting enough punishment. 

“I wish I didn’t have powers.” He tells Vanya.

“No you don’t.” Vanya says back fiercely, fists clenching in her blankets, “Not having powers sucks.”

Five tilts his head and looks at her, “No.” He says gently, “No one knew I had powers. And I was loved. I was so loved, Vanya.”

“Stop it.” Vanya says, face tight. “If you were so loved, why did she leave you here?”

And Five opens his mouth and nothing comes out, because it hurts. 

“You don’t wish you had powers, Vanya.” Five tells her finally, and there are tears in his eyes but he’s looking at the ceiling not at her so it doesn’t matter. “You wish you had a family. A proper family. Not this - this stupid academy. I hate it. I hate it here.”

“Don’t call it stupid.” Vanya says, “It’s not fair. It’s not fair that you have a family and we just - we just have the academy, okay? So don’t call it stupid.”

“We deserve better. We deserve a childhood.”

“We have a childhood.” Vanya scowls, “Just because it’s not as nice as yours was or whatever - ”

“This is my childhood, Vanya.” Five snarls, propping himself up to face her, “I know you all think I’m so spoiled and - and I’m not one of you or whatever, but I came here when I was five. My memories of before - Vanya they’re fading. I couldn’t pick Emma out of a crowd if I tried. I’ve been here for years longer than I was ever there, and it’s not fair.”

“You still have a mother - ”

“No I don’t.” Five cuts her off, his voice ice. Vanya’s eyes are wide, startled by his tone. “Vanya, look around you. When was the last time I saw my mother?”

Vanya’s lip wobbles as she realized she can’t remember.

“It’s been three years.” Five tells her, eyes hard and cold and angry, “She’s gone. I made a choice, and I chose you. I chose the academy. Because despite everything, I love you guys. You’re my siblings, even if sometimes you don’t act like it.”

“Five - ” Vanya tries.

“No.” Five cuts her off, hopping off the bed and shaking his head, “I’m going to - I’m going to go to my room. You get some more practice in or something. I think Pogo picked out this piece and you know what he’s like.”

He doesn’t let her get a word in before he jumps up to his room.

Five is twelve when he stands in front of Reginald and says “I’m not using my powers anymore.”

“You have an assignment.” Reginald says severely.

“No.” Five refuses politely, and his family watches with wide eyes from the sidelines. The only family he has left. “I’ve got control now. I’ve decided I’m going to be normal now.”

Reginald locks Klaus is the mausoleum early and watches with unimpressed eyes as Five picks the lock and strolls in. 

Reginald handcuffs Five to a rail. Five plucks a paperclip from his sock and picks those as well.

Reginald locks Five in a room from the outside and tells him that he’ll get dinner when he jumps out. 

Five opens the window and shimmies down the drainpipe and has to be picked up at Griddy’s where he’s charmed the owner out of a free doughnut and hot chocolate with a sob story about school bullies to explain his grubby appearance (the shimmy down the drainpipe hadn’t exactly been graceful. or clean.)

He locks Five in the basement in a weird room that’s soundproofed. Five tries to hunger strike but - it’s so quiet. He can hear the sound of his own heartbeat. He can’t stand it. It’s like the room was made specifically to torture him.

(He looks at the little bed in the room. The sheets were dusty. This room has been around for a very long time. He wonders who it’s for, Allison, perhaps? She’s always been fairly obedient, maybe this is the reason why.)

He jumps out on the second day, and doesn’t talk to anybody. Reginald is smug like the cat the got the canary, and Five hates it.

Then Five is messing around, and something slots into place, and he realizes - oh, he might be able to time travel. 

Once he figures it out, he’s desperate. He’ll save his siblings that way. He’ll take the to a time where Reginald can’t get them. They’ll be out of reach.

(maybe - maybe they can travel back in time. maybe he can save his mother -)

Five is thirteen-years-old when he time travels for the first time. When he runs out of the house like he’s done so very many times before, except he’s angry and frustrated and he’d tried to bait Reginald into telling him his mother’s dead again and he hadn’t and - 

Five jumps. It’s snowing. He did it. He jumps again, laughing. He jumps again - 

Ash.

He tries to jump, but his power fizzles out. He calls for his siblings. No one answers. He finds the academy - rubble.

So Five lives in the apocalypse. He tries to go home, he does. He buries his siblings as well as he can. He wanders around gathering food and textbooks. He picks up a mannequin and names it Dolores.

(He searches the rubble of the academy, but he can’t find Doggy or the picture of his mother. Either they were found and removed years ago, or they’re buried beneath too much rubble. Five doesn’t know.)

 He takes Dolores on a road trip. He tells her it’s to see if they can find any people, any survivors.

he arrives in a graveyard and traces his mother’s name with trembling fingers. this is the first time he’s been to visit her grave. this is the first time he’s seen her in four years.

So he survives. He grows up, desperately clinging to life by his fingernails. He does complex calculations, wondering what his mother would think of him now.

He meets the Handler. He becomes an assassin.

(he’s glad his mother is dead, so that she will never see what he has become.)

And then one day, he gets home. He falls into the courtyard, and looks at the faces of his grown up siblings and - 

(he’s so tired of losing people. he’s so tired of being taken away from his family.)

He hops to Griddy’s, he gets into a fight with assassins, he cuts a tracker from his arm, and he goes to Vanya’s apartment.

And he’s Five, but he’s also Fievel. And somewhere inside he’s still that same kid who loved his mother and wanted her to fix thing, who trusted her even though she didn’t have powers. His mother wasn’t ordinary, and he’s never seen Vanya as such.

So he asks her for her help.

(Later, she tells him that they hunted down his mother when they were fifteen, because they’d been absolutely convinced he’d just run away and gone back to herno matter how much Reginald insisted he was dead.

That’s when they found out about her death. Her date of death.

“I’m so sorry, Five.” Vanya says, tears in her eyes as the whole family shuffles and looks away.

And Five puts his hand on Vanya’s. “I knew, Van.”

Her head snaps up. Klaus blurts out a what in the background.

Five shrugs, “I’ve known since we were ten. It’s okay.”)

Five sends Vanya to investigate the eye. 

(He asks Klaus - “Have you - ”

“No.” Klaus says instantly, shaking his head. He knows what Five is asking. 

Five considers that answer, then shrugs. He’s not sure if it would be better or worse for his mother to be one of the ghosts that tormented Klaus. “After I - after, did dad get worse?”

“Yeah.” Klaus says simply, because it’s true.

Five hadn’t been there to jump into the mausoleum and try and shield his brother from invisible enemies. 

“I’m sorry.” Five says quietly.

“Me too.”)

Vanya comes back and the eye hasn’t been made yet. Five swears, loudly and at length.

And maybe in another world Five snaps at Klaus and denies Vanya and goes off on his own and ignores Allison but - 

In this one, Five was the only kid who not only didn’t care that Vanya was ‘ordinary’ but actively challenged her on it. Who told her in no uncertain terms that he was jealous of her. 

(It’s a very different book that comes out.)

In this world, Five shielded Klaus and challenged Reginald. He jumped into the mausoleum and hugged his brother and, most importantly, he chose Klaus over his mother. And Klaus knows that. Klaus has... a lot of loyalty to Five, and even though he’d though for a long time that Five abandoned him... he knows better now and he feels - he feels guilty for doubting his brother. That guilt may or may not manifest in being a bit clingy.

In this world, Allison thought Five was fascinating because he’d been in the real world. He’d been to real school. She remembers him telling her about his mother, about trips to the zoo and the museums and the birthday parties, about sleepovers and playdates and parks.

(She has a daughter, and she takes Claire to the children’s museums and to zoos. She tries her best for her daughter and hears Five’s voice telling stories in her ears. She does her best to be a good mother, she tries so hard.)

It’s a slightly more united family that stands against the apocalypse.

But there’s always something with them, isn’t there?

“Don’t you know?” The Handler says, with her perfect lipstick smile, “I don’t have to win, I just have to take you out of the game. Your weak spot has always been the same, hasn’t it?”

“You don’t have shit.” Five says, unimpressed. “My family is fine.”

“Are you so sure about that, Fievel?”

(Five already chose his siblings over his mother the first time. The choice is... much more difficult the second time.)

[vslattae]

ALL I COULD EVER WANT

ɪᴛ ᴀʟʟ sᴛᴀʀᴛᴇᴅ ʙᴄ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴍᴇ ᴀ ᴋᴘᴏᴘ ɪᴅᴏʟ...ʙᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇᴅ ʜᴏᴡ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏғ ʜɪs ɢʀᴏᴜᴘᴍᴀᴛᴇs ᴘᴀʏᴇᴅ ᴀᴛᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ..

ᴀʟʟ ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ ᴠsʟᴀᴛᴛᴀᴇ

Paring: Taehyung x reader

Warnings: angst like a mf (im sorry :( ), mentions of alcohol, fluff ( bc tae cares about y/n) mention of cheating, literally y/n becoming a mess, soft kisses, groping, breast worship, dry humping and yeahhh-

( welp...the first actual smutty chapter..so soon? and this is unedited asf i’m sorry)

chapter 4. Things change..and sometimes it’s nice.

———————————————————————

Once again the you feel the car stop and the light goes on in the car. Opening your eyes you find everyone getting out, jimin wraps you in a blanket with him to fight off the cold.

“ jiminnn it’s so cold why did we stop driving?” you shiver and whine at the same time. “ remember? ryujii needed to get off at the next town so here we are” he said stretching his arms around you attempting to keep you warm. Jungkook finally gets out of the driver seat making his way towards you his sleepy sister and manages to keep you and jimin warm.

Haru and Jin finally emerge out of the car, flashing a wink at you. “ hello sleeping beauty..boy do i have news for you.” she says giggling. Pulling you to the front of namjoons car... “well what is it..?” you looked at her while you yawned.

“ Well first off to start off the drive ryujii was whiney the entire time because tae made her sit up front...and he just kept babbaling about some amazing girl that he likes.” oh that made your heart flutter for sure but as yourself you deny any connection to you and laughed. “ okay good joke...” you scanned her face trying to find out if she was lying or not.

“ y/n...i’m not kidding.” she smiled.. “ but you on the other hand you look like a mess what happened?” she chuckled “ jhope drooled on pants so i have to change them but like i’m surrounded by guys.” she looked down at your pants to find out jhope really did drool on you-

“ come on sleepy bug change in our car..taes in there but he’s passed the fuck out.” she laughed. You hesitatly went into the car poking tae..

“ tae...psttt” you poked his cheek. “ hmm?” he opened his eyes slowly shocked to see you in the car. “ can you hand me a pair of sweats jhope drooled on mine” you pouted. chuckling he nodded “ yeah i can’t find your bag so you can borrow mine only if you come back in here so i can sleep good.” he pulled a pair of his sweats out and handed them to you. “ okay now no peeking.” you scolded him.

pulling the hoodie down to cover your ass, you slid off your jhope drooled sweats and replaced them with taes. “ okay i’m done...” tieing the sweats and slipping your vans back on... “ okay well i have pee y/n so let me get out.” nodding you both hopped out of the car letting tae go to bathroom and joining the others.

“ hobi you drooled on my pants so i had to change.” you whined again. “ oh my i’m sorry y/n...but haha were putting you back into jins car there more room. we were crowded although you were quite a nice pillow” he laughed. Taehyung coming back noticed how much you were shivering so he threw his arms around you so you’d stay warm. Haru and everyone else took note of that smiling there cheesy ass smiles.

“ so where the fuck did ryujii go..?” haru spoke up. “ she went home i guess i don’t fucking know” tae laugh. “ how many hours are we away id much rather sleep in a bed than sleep in a car.” you closed your eyes for a second as taehyung a head fell on your shoulder.

“you look so cute in my pants...” he whispered in a low voice. “ shhh don’t want to kiss you again t.” you whispered back.

“ alright everyone. it’s like 2 hours left let’s get back on the road.” Jimin said. “ jungkook sleep i’ll drive. you get the whole middle seat to yourself” jin said smiling opening the door to let haru in and getting in the driver seat. sitting in the back of the car again with taehyung his hand pooling over your shoulder... “ kiss me again..” he looked at you.

“ tell me about ryujii first than maybe i’ll kiss you again.” you smiled sleepily. “ you’ve met her you know how she is...i found her sleeping hooking up with a guy outside of our apartment.” he said pushing a few strands out of your hair behind your ear.

“ why didn’t you tell me that part?” you pouted at him. “ because you were so busy barking up my ass about flirting with you.” you giggled “ that cannot be true...i don’t always yell at you..” you smiled at him. “ that’s not a true statement either love..now where’s my kiss?” he cooed at you.

“ oh no that’s not how this works...” you layed your head on his shoulder closing your eye lids finally drifting back to sleep. As soon as he knew you were asleep he kissed the crown of your head smiled and fell asleep as well.

꧁꧂

Finally arriving at your vacation home which by now it’s around 6 o’clock in the morning everyone piling there bags into the house and picking out rooms...there was just one teeny problem...stepping into your room that you had just found out tae was in as well there was only one bed. and there was only one person to blame for that. haru.

“ i’m going to take a nap no one please disturb me thank you” you smiled plopping yourself on the bed.

Haru walked in and looked at you. “ hey y/n how about a little bet” she smirked and boy did this cause trouble. “what” you yawned looking at her with half lidded eyes. “so we’re going out and seeing as someone is a little sleepy tae decided to stay here with you...so i’m giving you until the end of the trip to confess for aroundddd i dunno whatever you want me to buy for you” she smiled at you.

“bet easy as pie you know” you giggled back at her. “ alrighty night night princess” she turns off the light and you finally toss over pull your hoodie off and roll over to sleep on your stomach.

About 2 hours later Taehyung comes to check on you..only to find you shirtless...curled up in a ball and lightly tossing and turning..he chuckled and kisses your cheek repeatedly.. “ y/nnn wake up watch a movie with meee” he whines.

“okay okay i’m coming..give me like 2 minutes.” you rubbed your eyes and jumped out of bed. “my goodness you made you so needy tae, i thought i told everyone to not disturb me..” you went into the closet to grab another hoodie. Taehyung noticed how you were still in his sweats, they looked a little baggie on you but you still remained the cutest short girl that he undoubtedly had feelings for.

Running into the living room tae was settled on the couch laying across it, while you came and sat on the floor. About half way into the movie you heard tae whine. “well what’s wrong?” You set your head on the couch peering at him like a little three year old. “I absolutely don’t get this movie it’s tragic.” he starred back at you. “Of course you don’t get it” you laughed throwing your hands to hit his hand lightly.

Taehyungs phone rang, he got up and answered.

“hello?” he looked at you watching the movie in awe as he continued the listening to his phone call.

“what. you still love me?” he walked back and forth.

“listen you know what happened so please don’t try and save yourself...you fucked up.And Do Not, i repeat do not bring her name into this shit thank you but you do indeed still have these so called feelings sort your shit out thank you and goodbye.” he hung up and made his way back to the couch sighing in frustration.

“so that was ryujii i take it?” you turned around to look at him. “No okay don’t worry about it okay?” eyeing him you ask him again.... “then who was it.”

“Didn’t i tell you not worry about...jesus christ y/n can you back off my shit for once?” you paused. What the fuck...frustrated you stood up and walked back into your room “you know tae..for once in my life i tried to be nice and let you in, especially after kissing you for crying out loud, I thought i really actually liked you..but turns out i know your still whipped for that ryujii bitch huh..” You spat that out and closed your room door.

You sank to the floor trying to calm yourself down, half of you wanted to just get up and leave but...you on the other hand had other plans. Getting off the floor you change your clothes into a hoodie and a pair of jeans and walked out of the room.

“y/n where are you going it’s the middle of the god damn day..” he looked at you eyebrow cocked as if he was testing you. “out i’m going for a walk.” you walked out of the house and somehow manage to climb the tree and neared the waters edge. The branch was stable as far you could tell, you just needed to think things out before turning back and slapping taehyung in his god damn perfect face. You didn’t even know how you liked him, you knew him all to well, he was the kind to get drunk on his off days and pull the prettiest girl at the bar while you sat in the apartment along with everyone else managing to block all the whines and crying of the girls he brought over.

Meanwhile in the house taehyung replayed that last part... ‘i thought i actual liked you but your still whipped for that bitch ryujii’ He had to admit that was the harshes you ever gotten with him especially for such a sensitive subject for him..

Returning home everyone came back and haru went to check on you only to find that every room you would have been was empty or filled with everyone else. “where the fuck is y/n” she perched up and asked taehyung. “she went for a walk she yelled at me because of ryujii and left. Jungkook waltz in and noticed that a bottle of soju was missing and he began to frantically search for his you everywhere.

Everyone rushed outside looking for you...

“y/n?!” “where the fuck are you!” jungkook yelled out fearing that maybe a fucked up person actually kidnapped you until he noticed your dangling figure up in a tree, bottle of soju in your hand and it seemed that you were just fine.

“i’m fine jk...expect...i cant get down.” you laughed. “Why on earth are you up there in the first place. you know your afraid of heights jesus.” he worriedly looked up at you trying to figure out why the fuck you were up there in the first place.

“well..” you laughed “i came out here to figure shit out...i just told taehyung that i liked him and he doesn’t even want me jk...he so focused on ryujii so i left the house and came up here because...” you started to sniffle. Yoongi took matters into his own hands climbing up the tree to fetch you off. “jesus y/n...you scared all of us to death no more tree climbing for you okay” he said in a monotone voice to make it seem like he was panicking either.

Once you were safely on the ground jungkook rushed to you and searched for any cuts that tree would have gave you. “i’m fine jk honestly” you handed him the bottle of soju and started stumbling into the house. You spotted haru and she ran up to you. there was a knock on the door...

“I’ll get it” you giggled and wobbled to the front door opening it. There she was..and how the fuck did she know where you guys were. “taehyung it’s for you” you walked back into the room as haru ushered to sit on the counter and watch what happened outside. It seemed like they were arguing...until she kissed him. For the first time you were honestly hurt.. “Shit” haru tried grabbing you before you could open the sliding door to the backyard. Taehyung looked a little taken back...dazed on what the fuck just happened.

“Is there a reason your here or what the fuck are you doing” haru went to look for jungkook before you broke something. “Is there a reason why the fuck you aren’t inside?” ryujii peered at you “I came here to have a nice time with my brother and my family and here you are. It’s like you can never leave ryujii. I honestly don’t know why the fuck you are here.” you spat out at her.

“please tend to your brother and stay out of my shit y/n...god you always ogled over taehyung and now your pissed because of what? Because i’m here?” she scoffed. Now everyone was outside listening to the conversation.

Jungkook finally rushed out to your side. “ you what’s fucked up? You wanna know why i’m pissed ryujii.?” she nodded smiling but soon that smile was gonna disappear in about 0.22 seconds.

“I was there when I saw you kissing that other guy while you were dating taehyung. I’ve kept it to myself for the longest time..he lost his smile because of you hell i was the one that came over in the middle of the night because jk rushed me over because god he was so drunk and was weeping over a stuck up bitch like you. He didn’t do anything but while you sat there and toyed with his heart for no god damn reason ryujii, and here you are back again for no god damn reason. You act like showing here is gonna give you another chance with taehyung but it’s probably never gonna happen. is that hard to figure out he doesn’t want a cheating whore like you.” Your eyes glanced towards taes. and there it was...the eyes half closed trying to forbid the memory. Everyone went silent hearing you ramble on but in the inside jk was screaming along with haru because your actually protecting the ones you love.

“God i’m so touched y/n after all these years you finally got passed the stage of annoyance from taehyung and your actually in love with him aren’t you?” you laughe booming the outside and you had to admit that it was starting to hurt your ears.

“Now to protect you from getting hurt I suggest you to leave now.” Your eyes starting to get a little misty from all the pent up rage that settled in the pit of your stomach. “Oh well...you wanna know something too y/n...while your heart ached for taehyung..i was still the bitch blowing his brains out he even told me how much he missed me...you can pile those feelings down-” Her sentence was cutoff due to taehyung pulling her through the house and kicking her out through the front door followed by you almost punting the chick thank god jungkook had a hand on you because woozy y/n is strong y/n... “please refrain from ever contacting me again ryujii and i mean it and yeah...everything y/n said is correct please stay out of my life and i mean that, goodbye.” he slammed the door in her face and walked into the bathroom.

Haru looked at you. “ god since when is drunk y/n such a bold bitch?” she giggled and pulled you into a hug. “ i’m proud of you especially from refraining to any violence acts you know.” for the first time in a long time you cried...you cried because you could finally let everything go the hiding your feelings and the guilt that built upside you, it felt like the monster that was sucking the life out of you was finally gone. or so you hoped she would never return..

Everyone surrounded you and made sure your okay. “hey goober.” jungkook looked at you. “if this means your fucking tae...gross” he laughed. “ew gross..” you scoffed. “anyways i’m still tired and i’m going to lay down okay..” you smiled at him. “go shower first..we still have a week here before we have to go back to the company i just want to enjoy my time here with you and everyone else okay.?”

༺༻

Around 10 o’clock is when everyone settled down getting ready to go to sleep..tae peered in at your sleeping figure. “you know how hard it was for me to not beat the shit out of your ex girlfriend.” you sat up “you know how long it took you to figure shit out” he laughed a little. “tae i’m sorry about yelling at you-” he cut you off.. “ it’s fine i just wanna take things slow..i’m sorry for being a dick i should have kicked her out when she showed up.” his face inched out closer to yours.. “ i do believe you owe me a kiss still..” his lips ghosting your ever so slightly.

“you want it now or a few more months later.?” you looked up at him admiring his face once again. he layed down next to you rolled over..

“heyyyyy what are you doing” you whined “ giving you a taste of your own medicine” he chuckled. turning over you climb into his lap. You put all your weight on him “stop teasinggg i’ll give your god damn kiss tae-” His lips pressed against yours, you sighed at the feeling him tugging against your bottom lip. “is there any other girls i should worry about orrr” his hands wrapped around your waist. “ will you just shush and enjoy this moment please.” he placed his lips on yours again tongues intertwined as he rocked your hips back and forth on him..

The feeling was erotic...and somehow you never thought that all this time here you were on top of tae doing gods knows what. A tiny whine came from your lips as he pulled your hoodie off to admire your top half of your body.

“beautiful..” he whispered out and there was his boxy smile again. “god your so weird..” you giggled at him as his lips attacked your collarbone pouring down until it reach the valley of your breasts. God this image of you eyes rolled back as his hands dug into your hips to attempt to get you off. Placing one hand on your soft skin he told his mouth and kitten licked your nipple rolling it his mouth back and forth.

“tae” you whined, “come here i just want to get you off you deserve it after all.” he looked up at you gnawing on his bottom lip. Placing you off his lap and pulling you underneath the soft comfort of the blankets, he slid off your shorts. “open your mouth” he told you softly and doing so he placed two fingers in your mouth for lubricant. “sorry to ask this haha but do you want to do this?” smiling and nodding you guided his hands down to your aching core.

Sliding your underwear to the side he came back for another kiss as he lightly pushed his fingers inside. “god your so wet baby..” he huffed out. “your lucky..i- fuck” pulling his face back to you his hand movements sped up whimpering at the pace he was thrusting his fingers into you. “Tell me how it feels baby” he placed his forehead on yours.

“so good...so fucking good” eyes rolling back as the spring in your stomach was about to pop your hand locked on his wrist as you continue to tell him how good it feels. He knew you were close when your whines got a little louder and your need to kiss him so you kept quite.

“let go y/n...it’s okay baby” he murmured in your ear. with a soft whine and your muscles tightening around his fingers, arm tugging at tae hoodie sleeve you relaxed. He slid his fingers out and placed them in his mouth tasting you. “sweet here taste come here” sticking out his tongue you placed it in your mouth and twisted your tongue with his tasting the juices that came from you, it tasted sweeter maybe because of the hint of strawberry’s taehyung ate earlier.

Finally in a sleepy state you pull your pants back on and curled up against tae. “so..you wanna tell me what that was about?” he kissed the top of your head intertwining his fingers with yours. “oh about the whole feeling thing” he nodded pulling you closer. “Hm...Let’s just put it as...i know i’ve been a dick to you only because i know how you are with girls tae, i’m sorry to say this but your kind of a hoe” you chuckle out.

“well that’s a bad way to put it y/n...lucky i don’t think i remember the last guy you dated, until jk knocked him out remember?” he laughed quietly. “ Yeah yeah i know...he was an ass, but anyways back to the topic...i guess you could say i don’t find you annoying all the time.” you gaze into his eyes seeing warmth and happiness that bounced off of him.

“hey i know that plus i know you enjoy my little pick up lines” he whispered slowly closing his eyes. “ your right i do sometimes...just promise me one thing?” you divert your attention to his hand on yours. “hmm?” he hummed out. “i swear to god you find another one of your ex’s gf show up...i swear i’ll kick you out with her so no more okay?” he chuckled sleepily. “as of now my little pipsqueak your the apple of my eye and i don’t think that’ll change anytime soon okay?” nodding your head you closed your eyes and drifted into a deep sleep wondering how this whole thing would go.

———————————————————————

a/n: woooooo the first smutty chapter is done. and tae isn’t that bad i guess but ryujii can suck y/ns toes :) anyways lmk what you think or if you wanna be on the taglist :) ♡︎𑁍

ⓉⒶⒼⓁⒾⓈⓉ:

@hantaev @strawverryxmilktae @serendipitysev

[kazcosmo]

when sin tastes like sugar

sugawara koushi x reader

❥ warning(s); drinking of alcohol, cheating, implied nsfw

❥ word count; 1,263 words

synopsis: you’ve always been told that there are some things that are supposed to be forbidden. and you’ve heard that what isn’t allowed tasted like saccharine. you’ve always known this to be true to the extent of alcohol and cigarettes. but when you meet sugawara koushi, you realized you never really knew just how good forbidden things can taste like.

the liquid burns your throat, its bittersweet taste lingering on your tongue. the drink is a distraction and you savor the sharp tang of citrus and bourbon. you haven't had a good drink in months. a time span far too long for your sanity. all those forced sweetness and politeness has had you wanting to curl your hands around your neck and fucking rip your flesh apart. it was destroying you, all this pretending. you danced around people's suspicions day by day and reassured them with lies you've rehearsed a thousand times. and yet, you get a grim satisfaction upon dodging their prying questions and doubtful eyes. sometimes you wanted to laugh at their faces for how utterly easy they were to fool. you should've been an actress instead of working as a nurse with countless late-night shifts that had you waking up at ungodly hours. your work yet another reason why you relished each sip and cradled the burn and flavor of the alcohol. but that wasn't all. a grimace makes its way onto your pretty face, curling your drunk features into a look of distaste. no, it wasn't the drink-- the thing was practically liquid heaven-- it was something else. or rather, someone else. the drink sloshes almost lazily as you twirl the glass with your hand in a circular motion, ice cubes making a soft noise as it clinks with your cup. your mind wanders into a hazy daydream filled with hazel-brown eyes and soft gray hair that bordered on white paired with a seemingly innocent smile. facial features better suited to an angel. your thoughts go uninterrupted even as the music blares across the packed room filled with bodies dancing to the rhythm of the music and to the melody of each other. you continue twirling your drink dreamily, soft sighs slipping past your lips. hands ghost along your back, sending shivers down your spine. your vivid dreams fall and you turn to see the very face stuck to your mind just seconds ago. "koushi." you breathe, mouth tilting into a small smile. he sits down on the stool beside you, a similar smile on his face as the two of you ignore the thrum of music across the bar. this part of the place was rarely occupied by anybody who wanted to immerse themselves into the beat, they wouldn't be able to, really. considering that the speakers were a good distance away from the spot, the music low enough for both of you to hear each other without yelling at the top of your lungs. a few linger in the farthest corner of the club, either making out or doing business you know better than to stick your nose to. your eyes scan his appearance, mouth going dry as he graces you with his presence, body fitted into a long-sleeved shirt, two buttons undone. he wore black pants hanging loosely off his hips, looking like a goddamned meal in the process. you squirm in your seat, disguising the action as you trying to pull the skintight dress further below your thighs. "it's been a while," he says, gesturing for the bored bartender for a drink. you try hard for your eyes not to linger too long at his figure, staring at the glass of forgotten alcoholic drink like it was the most fascinating thing you've seen in weeks. you let loose of the tension on your shoulders, acting nonchalantly, sipping at the drink which now tasted bland on your tongue. "We don't exactly have the most flexible schedules koushi." you remind him, your statement eliciting a small chuckle from him. you whip your head towards him and drink in the image as he receives the drink from the bartender who is happy to move away from your conversation. you take everything in before he looks up and catches you staring. he had the habit of moving the glass in a circular motion just like what you did before, the action originally from him which you've mimicked during the numerous times the two of you had gone out for a drink. your gaze moves from his lips down to the exposed skin of his neck and you stiffen slightly. barely hidden underneath the collar of his shirt was a mark of red; lipstick stains, you echo in your head. a scoff nearly escaped from your mouth. of course, how could you ever forget? this angelic man in front of you wasn't yours. nor were you his. the feeling of guilt settles into your stomach, its presence no longer bothering you. you were used to it anyways. you turn away from him as he looks up, "and yet somehow we make it work better than we do with our beloved significant others." he lets out and you can't help but snicker at his words. whereas you could barely make time for your boyfriend, you manage to sneak a meeting with sugawara koushi into your already tight schedule. whereas he could barely remember the exact date of their anniversary, he could remember every little insignificant detail about that night you spent with him, driving around town and doing nothing at all. there was just something so beautifully sinful the way you two lied to everybody, safe behind the fog of false words and even faker smiles. alone, unbothered, unburdened- whole. "god, sometimes I forget you're not mine." you sigh, a slow smirk spreading across your face. there was something in your eyes, a flicker of sadness that pierced through your mask of indifference. the emotion so fleeting he barely catches sight of it. his chest tightens, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. but if there was anyone better at lying than you, it was him. so he matches your smirk and drops his voice to a playful drawl. "that's what this is for, y/n, for forgetting everything for one night."

your eyes flutter open, your vision greeted by his face. still sleeping. there’s affection in your smile, something you barely let him see, then your eyes flicker downwards, meeting toned chest pressed against yours. and still naked, apparently. you roll your eyes, having long outgrown being embarrassed after countless times of waking up to this.

and even if you lost count of exactly how many times the same face has greeted you as you woke up, you know you’ll never get tired of it. why else would you keep coming back for more even when you knew you shouldn’t be?

to you, sugawara koushi was a drug.

and you were the addict incapable of doing anything but to want-- no, need-- more of him.

and so you do. even if it was in secret. hushed meet-ups with the seconds counted and constantly running down to zero, always running out of time, fleeting gazes in public, and the rare brush of a hand around others was what you could afford without risking anything more than what you’re both already putting in line.

in his case, a close friend.

in yours, an engagement.

when his own eyes open he’s never greeted by your sleeping features. it’s always you picking up the purse you brought with you last night to his apartment, fitted in the same clothes he’d taken off of your body hours ago. he's never been given a "good morning". it was always, always a chaste kiss to his lips, a bittersweet goodbye, and one that he'll never get used to, a goodbye that still brings him a plethora of pain that mirrored your own.

but he doesn't stop you, and you don't stay.

as you turn the doorknob behind you, you let out a weary sigh,

daichi really shouldn’t have introduced who he said he was gonna make his best man.

❥ a/n; sorry this was rushed! i have a massive case of writer’s block so i’m probably gonna revisit this and rewrite it bcs it just ain’t it for me atm

[harrywritingsbyme]

🍭🍭so I dont get lost🍭🍭, could u write something about harry being soft dom.. saying things like "you like that baby?" "use your words" "such a good girl for me, arent you?" haha idk but not any of that -ur a slut- stuff pls lol 💖💖💖 ur blog

The one where Harry takes care of Y/n

Based Off Of This Ask

And This One

A/N: I got a request for some prompts from the prompt list, along with some aftercare too. Plus, I had planned on writing something using the two concepts so it all works out! I love writing about either Harry or Y/n being in their respective subspaces. Last Friday, I did sub!Harry which I absolutely LOVED! And this Friday, I rlly wanted to show sub!Y/n some love bc how could I not?! This one’s cute in a filthy way if that makes any sense. It’s pretty descriptive too...Enjoy🙃

13. “What do you want- my tongue? Fingers? Or both?”

16. “You like that princess? Does my princess like that?”

22. “Where do you want it?”

 Harry loved it when you were deep into your subspace. The main and sole reason why he loved it so much was because he got to dote on and spoil you as much as he wanted. You’d been in your subspace all day long, which meant that he got to spend the entire day completely taking care of you. From the moment you two woke up, you were feeling really small and in desperate need of Harry’s attention. Luckily for you, Harry was more than happy to shower you in it. For the entire day, he made you feel like a princess. His spoiling you ranged from picking out your outfit in the morning, to letting you cockwarm him while you took a nap in the middle of the day (luckily he had some work to do so he wouldn’t be all alone while you slept). Anything you wanted, Harry did. And he wasn’t planning on stopping. 

You and Harry had just gotten out of the shower where he spent most of the time taking care of and getting you cleaned up before bed. You loved feeling his strong, and large hands on your body as he got you nice and clean. You also loved having his cock pressed against you from behind while he cleaned you up. Once you both were all cleaned up, Harry wraps a towel around his waist, and he wraps you up as well before carrying you both to the bedroom. If you had to choose one thing Harry did while you were in your subspace that you enjoyed the most, it’d be the way Harry went about getting you ready for bed. After you both are dried off, he sits you down at the edge foot the bed and goes through a few different options of his shirts and couple pairs of your panties that you could wear to bed. This was only the first part, what he’d do. When you finally choose what you want to wear, which in this case is nothing, Harry quickly puts the remaining clothes away before moving right into rubbing lotion all over your body. Whenever you weren’t in your subspace, you’d always moisturize before bed. But since you couldn’t do it for yourself, Harry makes sure to do it for you. He made sure to get every last part of your body. He even made sure to start on your back so that he could spend most of his time on your front.

There was no denying that his hands were magical. The way his hands felt on your body, felt utterly amazing. They were so amazing that you couldn’t stop the moans and whimpers from leaving your mouth. 

“Does my princess like that?” Harry chuckles softly, continuing to smooth and massage his hands across your body. Feeling his hands all over you, and hearing his deep voice as he called you his princess made you more sensitive, needier, and wetter for him.

“So much daddy.” You moan in response with a small smile. As he worked his hands up your body, he made sure to dig his fingers into your pressure points. He just finished working the insides of your thighs and he was now moving up to your lower stomach. You could feel his fingers digging into the area and your mind went straight to his cock. 

With this subject, your mind went everywhere. You started off thinking about how much you wanted to have him nestled all the way inside you. You wanted to feel fullness of having his entire cock inside of you. Your mind then went to how much you wanted to play with his cock. You wanted to have your face between his legs as you touched and sucked on his cock. You need for his cock was so great that you even managed to open your eyes that were tightly screwed shut to look at him. Your eyes go straight down to the area between his legs and you get the perfect view of him. From the way Harry was positioned, he was kneeling slightly on top of you. As he got higher up on your body, he had to lift himself onto his knees a little bit so that he could massage his hands into you better. As Harry’s hands moved up your body, so did his eyes. As he massaged your chest, Harry’s eyes went back and forth between your breasts and your face. Whenever he looked at your face, he noticed that you weren’t looking up, but instead you were looking down. It didn’t take much to realize that you were staring at his cock.

“What do you want baby- my tongue? Fingers? Or both?” He asks out of the blue, continuing to move his hands around your chest. He already knew that in this moment you’d want neither, but he just wanted to hear your needy mouth. 

“Want your cock daddy.” You mewl in response. 

“Where do you want it sweet girl?” He continues, beginning to swirl his thumbs around your pert and sensitive nipples. 

“In my tummy.” You mumble back. “But I wanna play with it first daddy.” You quickly rush out.

“My baby wants to play with my cock huh?” Harry hums, pushing a hand up from your breasts and right around your neck. He then brings his face down to yours and he lays the rest of his body against yours. When he does this, you can feel his cock lying against you. “Let me see those pretty eyes babygirl.” Harry coos, squeezing your neck a little bit in the process. Once your eyes flutter open, you’re met with Harry’s and your strong need for him intensifies even more. “Y’look so pretty when you’re all needy f’me.” He admires, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You can have m’cock,” Harry begins. “Only if you let daddy do one thing.” Before he can even finish, you’re nodding your head yes. You’d do anything if it meant that you’d get to play with and eventually take his cock. “Good girl, now open y’mouth f’me baby.” He instructs, pushing himself up from you with his free hand while keeping the other wrapped around your throat. 

As he massaged you, he felt himself drift into his domspace. It wasn’t intense as it could be, but it was enough for him to want a bit more control over you. And since you were deep into your subspace, he knew that he could get it. In the blink of an eye, your mouth is wide open and waiting for him to do something. Without waiting any longer, Harry brings his mouth down to yours, he puckers them a little and the next thing you knew, you felt and watched his spit fall into your mouth. Immediately after it lands onto your tongue, you shut your mouth and you swallow. You swallow quickly and you open your mouth back up for more. “Does my greedy little baby want more?” Harry asks amusedly. When you nod yes, he brings his mouth back to give you one more. “This is the last one though, wanna let you play with m’cock.” Harry reminds you before spitting into your mouth one final time. After you swallow, Harry lets go of your throat and pecks the tip of your nose before lying on the bed next to you. 

You waste no time crawling right between his spread legs. You lay flat against the bed and you wrap your hand around his cock. From Harry’s position, he could see the way you were almost adoringly staring at his cock. This was another thing Harry loved about you being in your subspace. Whenever you were like this, you became a mess for him. Along with having an overwhelming need and desire for Harry’s cock, you also felt the need to take care of him and make him feel good. It was almost as if you were worshipping him; well, more like his cock.

“Y’like playin’ with daddy’s cock babygirl?” Harry pants, looking down at the way you’re playing with him in your small hands. He watched as you tugged and squeezed at him, you even played with his balls a bit. 

“I love playing with your cock daddy.” You reply happily before wrapping your lips around the head to suckle on it. When you do this, Harry immediately curses under his breath. The way your soft lips wrapped around him, along with the way you swirled your tongue around his slit felt incredible to Harry. What made it even better was the fact that you were in “worship mode” so to speak. Since this was the case,  Harry decides to play into it a little bit. Before you push your mouth further down down onto him, Harry quickly cups your chin and he softly pulls your mouth off of him. 

“Want yeh tell daddy how good his cock is before you suck on it.” He instructs you. Harry telling you to do this stemmed directly from him having a strong praise kink. He loved it when you told him how good his cock was or felt. He loved watching you obsess and fall apart because of his cock too. This feeling only intensified when he was in his domspace. This was one of the ways Harry felt like he was in control. And you being in your subspace meant that you’d obsess over his cock on a completely different level, which would in turn fulfill Harry’s need to feel like he was in control. You’d tell him everything and go on and on about how amazing his cock was. Which was exactly what you did. 

“I love your cock so much daddy.” You begin, tugging at his shaft. “S’so big and  thick daddy, can barely fit in my hand or inside me.” You mewl, smiling up at him. 

“Tell me more baby.” Harry pants down to you. 

“Smells and tastes good too.” You chuckle sweetly. After saying this, you bring your face down even closer to his cock and you begin to rub his cock all over your face. Harry couldn’t believe the sight in front of him. You laying between his legs, pushing his cock all over your face that had a wide smile plastered across it. “I love your balls too daddy. Love how they’re nice and big and always filled with your cum.” You continue with a smile, opening your mouth to suck one of them into your mouth.

“Fuck!” Harry shouts, feeling your mouth suck on one of his balls. He could hear, and feel you happily hum at having him in your mouth. After sucking a little longer, you pop it back out of your mouth and you move to the other. 

“I would suck on them at once, but they’re too big daddy.” You explain sweetly. You then send a small pout his way before going in to take it into your mouth. Harry felt like he was in heaven. The way you sucked his balls into your mouth while not only continuing to squeeze on his cock, but also describing his cock in the process was mind-blowing. You then pop the other one of his balls out of your mouth and you come back up to his cock. “I love love love how your cock barely fits into my mouth and goes all the way down my throat too daddy.” You sigh before slowly sinking your mouth down onto him. In the beginning, it was really hard to take all of Harry’s cock into your mouth; you could barely take half of him inside. But with practice and help from Harry, you were finally able to take all of him. While you were happily taking him into your mouth/throat, Harry was trying his hardest to keep his head up and watch you. He struggles to watch as you push your mouth all the way down his cock. You were so far down that your nose was pressing into the hairs surrounding his cock.

Having Harry’s cock lodged deep down your throat made you feel two things. Needy and prideful. Doing this made your need for Harry to be deep inside of you even greater. It caused a throbbing sensation to form in your core, which led you to begin pushing yourself back and forth against the bed. Relieving yourself of some of the tension in your pussy felt so good, even if it was just against the mattress. And because it felt so good, you moaned. You moaned right around Harry’s cock. When Harry feels this, his head falls back against the bed and one of his hands flies straight to your hair. As you slowly begin to pull your mouth back up his shaft, you begin to feel a little loopy. You did hold your mouth down for a little longer than usual. When you’re fully off of him, you begin tug at his now soaked shaft.

“What I love most about your cock daddy is how it stretches my pussy daddy. It fills me up so good that I can feel it in my tummy.” You whimper, continuing to squeeze, lick, and tug at his cock while digging your cunt into the sheets. When Harry hears you whimper this to him, he lifts his head and looks down to see you whimpering and moaning while you push yourself into the bed. 

“Want daddy’s cock in y’pretty little tummy of yours sweet girl?” Harry grumbles, continuing to watch you rub yourself against the bed while playing with him.

“Please daddy” you beg.

“Then lay on y’back f’me baby.” Harry pants. As soon as he gives you this instruction, you release your grip on his cock and you follow his instruction. You’re laying on the bed next to him with your legs spread, patiently(not really) waiting for him to get in between them. It doesn’t take that long before Harry musters up enough strength to get up and move in between your legs where you wanted him. He then pulls you by your calves, so that you’re closer to him. When he does this, he really gets to see just how soaked you are for him.

“Would you look at that.” Harry admires, bringing two fingers down to your center. “This pretty little cunt of yours is soaking baby.” He points out, pushing two fingers up your folds to collect some of your arousal. He drags them all the way up to your clit which causes a loud gasp to leave your mouth. “And how could I forget about this swollen little button of yours.” He continues, using his thumb to swirl his finger around it.

“Oh my- daddy!” You whine, bucking your hips up into his hand. “Need your cock.” You continue to whine. 

“How bad do you need it? Tell daddy how bad you need his cock.” He says calmly, even though he was dying to be inside of you already. 

“My tummy’s starting to burn.” You cry out to him.

“Right here sweet girl?” Harry asks, bringing his free hand up to your lower stomach and ever so slightly pressing it down into you. 

“Mhm!” You mumble loudly, feeling the burning sensation intensify as he pressed further into you.

“Use your words doll.” Harry softly repremands. “Is this where you feel it?” He asks again, this time expecting a real answer from you. 

“Yes daddy.” You mewl before bringing your lower lip between your teeth.

“Daddy’s gonna make you feel so good.” Harry promises. 

He then brings the hand that was on your stomach to your hip, and he uses the other to line his cock up with your entrance. When you feel the thick head of him against your entrance, your moans get even louder. When he hears and sees you like this, Harry begins to push into you.

“Such a good girl, takin m’cock so well.” Harry praises, continuing to fill you to the brim. While he’s pushing into you, you’re a complete mess. He wasn’t fully inside yet and your legs were already quaking. You could feel your walls stretching to fit his thick girth, and you could feel him pushing into you inch after inch. Once Harry was nearly all the way inside, he brings his now free hand to the other side of your waist and he pushes the rest of the way in. 

“Fuck daddy!” You cry out to him. You could feel his cock hitting the deepest part of you. You were completely filled with his cock. There was no other feeling like it for either of you. It felt so good that a chill ran down the both of your spines when he hit that spot inside of you.

After taking a couple deep breaths, Harry begins to move his cock inside of you. After a few shallow, and a few soft thrusts, Harry decides to speed it up a bit. He wanted you to really feel his cock. When hr starts to speed up, your moans and whines turn into full on screams and cries. With each thrust you could feel him slam into your sweet spot. It didn’t take long for you to turn into a screaming, crying, quivering, and drooling mess below him. And thats exactly what Harry wanted to see. He wanted to see how much of a mess for his cock you could be. He wanted to see just how bad you needed him. 

“Look at my little baby taking daddy’s big cock.” Harry mocks, looking down at your completely disheveled and disoriented state. He could feel your spongey walls clenching around him and just knew that you were about to explode. He let’s go of one of your sides and he reaches out to grab one of your hands that were limply laying in the bed next to your also limp body (the only place you weren’t limp was from your hips to about mid thigh). He brings your hand down, and he presses it into your lower stomach. “Feel me in your tummy baby?” He pants, speeding up his thrusts and pressing your hand down a little harder so that you could really feel it. “Feels good doesn’t it.” He grunts, feeling his own release coming onto the verge of crashing down onto him.

“So good daddy! M’gonna cum.” You cry out to him. Your release was speeding towards you and it wasn’t going to stop. 

“Tell me how big daddy’s cock is inside you!” Harry growls.

“So big!” You reply wearily. At this, Harry sends one final thrust into you. This one is very deep and sharp. So much so that the both of you not only gasp at the feeling, but you both explode from it. As the two of you came, the two of you got louder. This was the release that the both of you were looking for. This release also lasted for a good while. Harry emptied so much of his cum into you that it began gushing out as he pulled his cock out of you. 

This release hit you both so hard that it knocked you out of your subspace, and Harry out of his domspace. And it left the both of your bodies fully numb and your mouths at a complete loss for words. 

Masterlist

[jonesinghardy]

No More Spitting Feathers 02/?

PAIRINGS: Warren Worthington III x Reader  WARNINGS: injury, blood, implied drug use RATING: T+, will be raised later.  WORD COUNT: 2.2k INSTALLATIONS: Part 01 AUTHOR’S NOTE: Dedication and thanks to Andi @venombxby​ for discussion and honorary mentions to Monica @rosesvioletshardy​ and Wella for inspo. This is written in second person bc I have never been able to get on board with Y/N trends, and the reader is a mutant with a limited mix of healing, telekinesis and some empathic inclinations. 

The night is never as dark as you’d like in a city, and no matter the hour, night owls are bound to be turning their gaze onto anything that moves above the shadows. 

He casts quite a shadow. 

Dove.

You don’t speak much after he agrees to go with you. There is a stalemate between the two of you for many minutes before he offers an arm and helps you up, getting you to a more comfortable place in the warehouse to rest until you could stand on your own. 

You didn’t think he’d be able to fold his wings enough to hide them, you thought it would hurt too much, but he manages to do it anyway and tucks them away into a long coat that he found in the disused warehouse staffroom, along with a large umbrella that helps conceal him better.

Once you could stand you found a dusty bathroom with running water and managed to clean your arms and face of blood and wrangle your hair into something less dishevelled. You also took off all your absurd jewelry, cleaning it all with hot water and chucking it into the same locker you find a pair of shoes that are too big but are better than trying to walk barefoot. 

You get the privilege of draping his leather jacket over your shoulders, which doesn’t exactly keep you warm given the modifications he made to the back to accommodate his wings, but you suppose you’d be colder without it. 

You walk in silence side by side for most of the journey, and calling it such is no exaggeration. It only takes half an hour for the pain to creep into his wing again, especially with how he has them folded against his back— you feel it, and have to breathe through the discomfort, the one aspect of your powers that you can’t turn off, but that thankfully doesn’t wipe you out the same way healing or telekinesis does. 

It takes three hours, and neither of you seeks a break, somehow knowing that stopping would benefit neither of you. He gets more tired though, but you can tell he relaxes a bit when the city falls away and the trees thicken, and the people and cars become few and far between.

The safe house looks abandoned from the outside, and to your benefit, it has thick overgrowth around its perimeter that provides plenty of privacy. All of the windows are either frosted or boarded up save for the stained glass windows on the old domed church that will be your shelter. 

You find the key where you expect it, and as soon as you enter you’re working on autopilot. You throw off the shoes that have given you blisters, walk across the confused space to a large set of shelves and pick out a change of clothes that don’t quite fit but are better than the tiny cocktail dress you’ve had to trek your way here in. 

Dove throws off the coat and drops onto the nearest cot, groaning as he stretches out his wings. You shudder from the incomparable empathic impression it leaves in your back. You change without caring if he looks (he doesn’t), putting on the pants and a too-large shirt, collecting a blanket from a crate in the corner and yourself dropping onto a cot not too far from where he’d lain down. You pass out after you heal your blistered feet. 

You sleep for eighteen hours. 

He sleeps for twelve, and when he awakens he’s hungry and hungover, aching in unpleasant but not unfamiliar ways. You can feel the malaise even though it doesn’t wake you, creeping into your body and your dreams and then fading once he freely navigates the space and finds the food and water kept in the makeshift pantry. 

You feel better when you wake, but you’re ravenous, and dig into whatever shelf-stable item seems most appealing— you’re still chewing when you go and find him, having made himself a more private corner to relax in with cushions, two cot mattresses and a few blankets. 

Swallowing doesn’t quite soothe the scratch in your throat, and you notice some subtly floating feather particles in the air, leaving you to idly wonder how much he sheds. 

“Are you well enough to heal me now?” he asks, filling the silence. You’re not sure if he believes you are, he seems tired and resigned.

“No,” you reply. “Not significantly anyway.”

He levels you with an incredulous look. 

You sigh. “I could give myself an aneurysm if I try to heal you too fast.” 

“What can you do, then?” 

“I could have you flying again in ten days,” you say, “that won’t put too much strain on me.” 

His wing, the undamaged one, flutters slightly. “Fourteen.”

“What?”

“Take fourteen days. You were like a rag doll at the warehouse, Häschen, you’re no use to me like that. You think you can do ten days— I don’t have anywhere to be— we’ll do fourteen.”

You look at him for a moment, trying to spot some ulterior motive and figure he must be doing the same. 

“Okay, alright. Two weeks.” That’s probably how long you’ll need to arrange extraction anyway. 

You swallow again against the scratch in your throat and take a deep breath. 

“You need a tour?” you ask, feeling awkward. 

He shakes his head. “I looked around while you were sleeping.” 

“The church is free-reign,” you say, explaining anyway, “the rest of the building is not really safe, but isn’t off-limits.” You shrug. “The shower room is over there.” You point. “Towels and soap are in the baskets… they’re all labelled.” 

“You planning to leave me alone here, Häschen?” he asks, sitting forward slightly and canting his head to the side. 

You both react when he strains his wing, and you try to hide your whimper with a cough. His wings shudder and the feathers tighten up, drooping slightly as he sits back against the wall with a slight grunt of pain.

“I want to get some supplies from the store… like better food,” you explain with a shrug. You also want to get him some medicine to tide him over between your attempts to heal him. 

“Are you going to walk?” 

You shake your head. “There’s a car stored on the property, I have what I need. I shouldn’t be more than forty minutes.”

He doesn’t say anything further, and it feels too invasive to watch him struggle through his pain.

“You want anything?” you ask, already planning to get him some clothes. 

“No.”

“Okay. What clothing sizes do you wear?” 

The look he gives you is almost a smirk, a raised brow and a quirk of his lip that makes you flush. You look away in embarrassment and clear your throat again. 

He tells you the sizes. “You don’t like my clothes?” he asks. 

“That’s— that’s not the point,” you say, and motion at him, his pants and boots, the lack of a shirt, the modified leather jacket he’d taken back while you slept. “That’s all you have.”

He shrugs with his hands. “Do what you want.”

“I will.”

“See you in an hour, then.” He seems inclined to give you more time than you think you’ll need.

— 

The subtle hiss and splash of water greet your ears from across the echoey safe house when you return. You took less than the hour, but more than the forty minutes to get everything done. You put the bags down on the tables that make up the kitchen (which isn’t much of a kitchen at all. There is an old fridge, two hot plates, a toaster oven and some cookware and dishes next to a deep industrial sink).

There is steam coming from the shower room, and when you get closer with the bag of clothes you got for him, you feel a malaise creep into your body. 

“Dove?” you call, but he doesn’t answer.

You put down the bag and go to the door, not sure what you’ll find, but hardly wanting to violate his privacy nor open yourself up to any teasing if you’ve misinterpreted the empathic impression. 

A small gasp leaves your lips. His wings are almost totally clean now, free of the dirt and char and blood that had been caked on them— some of which sits over the drain grate to his right. Feathers are missing from his left wing, and it continues to droop, but what concerns you is how he’s kneeling on the floor with his head against the wall, taking in shuddering breaths. The wings hide his nakedness almost completely, but that hardly crosses your mind as you step into the room.

“Dove?” you say again, more urgently now, your new shoes splashing on the wet floor as you cross over to him. 

It’s a rather bare room, stripped of all curtains and half-stalls, with only a dozen showerheads set a few feet apart around the space. He has two showers running to cover all of him, and you gasp when you feel how hot the water is, yanking the tap to the left to make it cold and then reaching over him to do the same to the other. 

“What are you doing!” your voice is louder than you intend, and he tenses, groaning when cold water penetrates whatever daze he was in. You get down on one knee and grab his face between your hands. He’s hot hot hot, and not just from the water, flushed. He startles, wings jerking and feathers fluffing, and he gives a slight grunt of alarm.

“Hey, hey, it’s me— it’s just me.” 

He doesn’t quite relax but he seems to calm, bowing his head slightly and shivering. You carefully reach up to turn off both showers and bring your hand to his neck. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus through the haze and urgency. 

“What are you doing…” he says dully, lifting a hand to grasp your forearm. He groans when he feels the initial relief of your healing. “Don’t, you’re not— I’ll be fine—”

“I can handle it, you’re not well,” you reply, almost scolding. He makes a sound of acknowledgement but speaks no further, he keeps his hand on your arm. 

You don’t find what you’re looking for, you assumed it would be an infection from the fracture, but his whole nervous system is rioting. You quickly readjust, your fingers pressing against his neck, by the nape. It’s not the healing you expected him to need, but you hadn’t exactly gotten the chance to examine him and come up with a plan. Your healing balances his autonomic nervous system, calming the sympathetic and re-engaging the parasympathetic. He’d need more help than that, you can tell, but easing his distress is your primary goal. 

A drop of blood hits the floor, and his hand squeezes your arm. Your nose is bleeding.

“That’s enough,” he says, his voice much more controlled now.

“I’m alright,” you assure him, “I know my limits, I can do a bit more…” You aren’t lying but you know how far you can push yourself before you get as bad as you were last night. You can do more now that you’re touching him too, that always makes you more precise.

His breathing even outs and his heart rate calm, and his head bows in relief after another long moment. Your bloody nose gets worse, but you set him up better this time, stimulating his immune system and provoking a healing response throughout his body, natural pain relief. It would help his body help itself until you could resume your efforts tomorrow. 

You move your hand away from his neck and move it to under your nose. The leg of your pants is wet when you stand, and you turn away but he gives your arm a little tug, making you look back down at him. His face isn’t as flushed now, and there’s a different kind of pain in his eyes, something non-physical. Something like guilt. 

“I didn’t deserve that,” he says gravely. You slowly pull your hand away. 

“You were in distress, I wasn’t going to leave you like that.” 

His wings twitch, ruffling carefully. “Some pain deserves to be felt,” he argues weakly. “Especially for something of my own doing.”

“Withdrawal isn’t a penance, Dove.” When he meets your gaze, you think he might be searching for judgement, but he won’t find any. He looks away.

“It’s an unfair strain on you.”

You turn away, still holding your bloody nose. “I can’t just pick and choose what I heal. If you’re sick I can’t fix your wing effectively.” You huff, turning away. “And I’m fine. It’s not as draining when I can touch you… I left you some clothes by the door. If you really don’t want to waste my efforts, you’d better get some rest. Your body can do the work itself until tomorrow.”

You start out of the room deliberately, shoesfalls splashing wetly. As you pass the threshold, the echoey walls of the shower room amplify his quiet words just enough for you to hear.

“Thank you.”

You keep going without acknowledging it.

[redevenir]

rigil kentaurus (pt. i)

The brightest star of the Alpha Centauri solar system – our closest neighour. Its name is the latinisation of the arabic رِجْل القِنْطورُس‎ Rijl al-Qinṭūrus, meaning the Foot of the Centaur. It is slightly larger and more luminous than the Sun. W

seungkwan x reader

wc : ~ 4000

summary : you are only a spectator of your life until they take your hand and let you live it.

a/n : started it as a seungkwan piece, then turned it into a johnny one then coming back to seungkwan bc this is how i wan to keep writing it. it's like i can't keep writing it if it's not seungkwan i don't know.

« It’s the fourth one. » Chan’s voice is only a hushed whisper but you hear how bothered he is. You don’t answer.

I know…

No, It’s already the fourth one tonight, and it’s only eleven!

I know…

It’s like they’re not even trying! Seungkwan barely avoids the tea towel as Chan raises his arms out of exasperation. If they don’t what a cappuccino is, why do they order it anyway? It’s a coffee shop, just buy a coffee! You know you don’t need to answer that. You’ve been working here for months and complaining about customers seems to be a universal way of breaking the ice. You’ve heard this speech from your first week at the counter, and with time you’ve come to agree with whatever colleague you were with, on every single point. Not once have you considered quitting to find something else instead. It is, indeed, not the best place. At the entrance of the city, the beginning of the highway. It is neither cozy nor warm. The air conditioning is too strong half of the year, the radiator too hot during the six months of winter. You are either sweating or shivering. The playlist is sickening, and never in tune with the season. You ignore Maria Carey’s christmas’s vocals as you give a customer a refill. Night workers and truck drivers are your only customers during the night shifts. You have stopped judging them long ago.

For months on end, the only thing Chan could tell about his coworker was that you were not a model employee. It was hard to blame you for anything specific. But you felt off. You felt nothing. When Seungkwan asked him how his shifts went, he would just shrug. It felt like he spent many of his nights on his own rather than with you. Like you were not there with him. Every evening he would arrive, greet you and feel like it was the first time ever. And he would grumble about it.

Can you believe I know nothing about her ?

Well, she’s surely a very private person.

Yes, and that’s rude.

You make little to no effort to appeal to the customers. In fact, you barely engage at all with them. Although, and this is your secret, you do have your favorites. From the three maintenance workers of the power plant to the security guard who comes four times a week, before the end of your shift, after the end of his own, Chan has found out that, if he listens to you close enough he’ll learn their names. Because you know them. You often seem to be elsewhere, but when you wish them a nice evening, or good luck, you do say their name, quietly, without any fuss. A sign to him you weren’t completely indifferent but thoughtful in a different way from his. There is nothing likeable to the Dreamy Drivin Chan works at. First of all, it is not a drive-in, nor a drive-through, it is a mere coffee shop. Not a fancy one, not a chain one. The counter’s light green is ugly, the temperature’s always off, and the pay is honestly not much. This is how life is at the border of the city. You catch what you can get and you try to make it work. He assumes the reason you’ve landed there is the same as his and Seungkwan’s : dropped from school, without any proper qualification for a living. He assumes you are his age, that your face must look younger when you are not tired. Chan is nice. Well, Chan likes to tease his friends, but Chan is nice. He tries to reach you, one sentence at a time.

White noises. The purring of the coffee machine you’ve never seen off. They come in, white shirt, stained jeans, black coats. They order the same thing, the largest, darkest coffee you got. You serve them with a « good night », « good luck » if you feel in a kinder mood. Since Seungkwan’s smile is bright and big and loud, you’ve decided you didn’t need to fake one of your own. They pay for their order and leave for never ending roads you cannot quite picture in your mind. When you work long shifts, it seems to you the world is shrinking, that if you open the front door you will fall into a bottomless pit. That the joke of a coffee shop you work at is some sort of asteroid gas station where rocket drivers stop by on their way to the Andromeda galaxy. You tell yourself Earth is also a little rocking drifting among the stars. You welcome a new customer. You dream of outer space. It is known people turn to alcohol and other substances to forget their troubles, but you don’t need that. Numbness greets you every time the pointing machine does its trick, and you even lose sight of your daily life. Surely you have one, plants to grow, books to read, hiking to walk and messes to clean. People to see and a sun to meet. But here, behind your pale green counter, you consign it all to oblivion. Here, there is only the world in your head and the star who takes orders by your side that exist. Your hear Chan’s annoyed sigh. You serve another coffee. It feels like taming the crow that lives in the tree in front of his building. Like he could give you bread and even croissant crumbs every single night and you would still be distant. And one day, you initiate the conversation, and he knows he’s done well. He remembers it just fine now. It was probably a boring wednesday, late in the afternoon. It had been a cloud few hours since he had woken up. A dim midday sun dissolving into the thick gray air. He was already behind the counter, checking the clock, when you had busted in the room, panting. There was some pathetic charm about the whole scene. You don’t hide your surprise when you see Chan already there, and a smile had made its way – oh so joyful and unsettled. The smile on your face had remained unchanged when he had asked you. And why are you late ?

I am not ? You had answered. What the manager doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

Ooh, so that’s how it is. Chan relates to that. He never complains about you again. Next time he talks about you, he tells Seungkwan you are his friend now. His quiet, merry friend who never works day shifts. Chan does. As it happens, Chan hates working the night shifts and only does it when Seungkwan can’t. Seungkwan is kind. Seungkwan is the most loveable being Chan has known in years. Seungkwan is grounded and warm, and steady. Moving in with him was like having finally his roots planted into rich, reliable earth, instead of the slippery mud he had been walking on for most of his life. Chan is heard, is seen. Chan sleeps well, and goes out of his way whenever Seungkwan asks him a favor, because it is easy to satisfy him. Easy, and right. He tells Seungkwan you’ve asked after him, and watches as the other chokes on his coffee.

Can’t believe you’d think I wouldn’t notice.

When Seungkwan comes back to the night shifts, you don’t mention him ever leaving, but he notices the change in you immediately. When you greet him, he looks at your face and wonders what was so bad that your better rested face still looks worn out. You’re not as lively as he is, you’re not as lively as Chan is, hell, you’re not even as lively as Chan said you were with him – which wasn’t that much to begin with. But you are here. There is a relief in your presence. Seungkwan said nothing about his absence, and diligently drinks the cup of coffee you offer him around three. Seungkwan regrets the day shift but still. It could be worse. As he tries his best to maintain his customer service to its level – it is hard and how, how did he manage to do it before ? Is this the reason why you don’t ? Don’t set any standard, at all, so no one can be disappointed – and especially not you – when you don’t live up to them. Seungkwan wonders how hard you really are on yourself, and if he isn’t being dramatic. Maybe you’re all right. Maybe you look terrible because that’s how you look. Maybe you were born tired and he has no need to worry about you. Maybe you don’t need him to meddle in your privacy. Surely, if you wanted him to know about your life you’d tell him yourself.

The softest clunk ever heard by a human ear snaps him out of his thoughts. He meets your concerned look and the large cup of latte you’re handing to him.

Seungkwan, you should go home. Take it easy. Night shifts are hard.

He looks at you with wide eyes, opens his mouth, close it, opens it again and stutters.

But- no ! I mean- I can’t- I- I- you- I can’t let you do this alone- It- It- no, it’s not right! You shrug and gesture vaguely toward the empty diner hall.

It’s whatever, really. You try to elaborate as he doesn’t answer. No one’s here, you’re clearly not here, there’s only two hours left, just, you know. Go to sleep. I really don’t mind. You don’t have to fight me on this, by the way, it’s not like I’d tell anyone.

Seungkwan does as you say, doesn’t fight you on this. He can’t manage a proper thought, a proper thank you. He goes in the locker room, picks up his stuff, only to hesitate before the front door, until you repeat yourself, a sweet promise of rest. He spends the journey back home away from his body, replaying the scene over and over. He knows he’s screwed when he opens the door to his and Chan’s apartment. It’s ridiculous, and he would feel ashamed if he wasn’t so tired. How easy it is to let you take care of him. He crashes on his bed still in his work clothes and forgets his last thoughts.

Your shift passes without a fuss. It doesn’t feel like you’re there either.

You close your book when you realize you’re not reading anything. There is a light buzz in your brain, but it is quiet. Unthreatening. You close your eyes and your reaches for the cup of hot cocoa on your desk. It’s all nice and quiet here, and you wonder how you’ve managed to make your apartment such a peaceful nest when your mind is so often washed out by fierce tempests. You let your mind drift away, floating on a safe shore. Breaks from work are nice. Your sleep schedule is well set by now, and you can properly enjoy those forty-eight hours for yourself. You don’t spend every week night longing for them, because you never project yourself into the future, but you would if you did. Dawns are definitely your favorite moment of the day. Either they mean you can go home, or that you have an entire day to relish in the warmth of your place. It is a nest indeed. A kitchen and a bedroom, all stuffed into the maze of a much bigger building. The wooden floor is quite creaky and you do hear when the neighbor upstairs wears their heels. The walls are a very faded shade of orange, which you love – sun-like colors are for good luck. The furniture is definitely older than you are – older than your parents, probably – but it is nice. And the day you’ll leave it will remain exactly the same. More used but untouched. In a way, the atmosphere is not unlike the Dreamy. Homey and decay. Anonymous, but in a belonging way. Chan would hate it. His apartment – well, their apartment – is probably… You can’t picture it. You don’t know enough about home interiors to picture someone else’s home. Comfortable. Maybe furs as bed-covers? You have never touched one before, but sometimes you catch a glimpse of them on the passenger seat of a car. Your gaze never lingers though : you are not to look at a car owner in the eyes.

Seungkwan feels like he’d sleep nested in a bed of wool and furs. He’d probably like the soft but rough feeling of it against his skin. There’s something comforting about raw fabrics, isn’t there? A bubble of heat slowly builds in your chest and you close your eyes shut to chase the thoughts of Seungkwan’s bare skin in his bed.

Seungkwan is quiet, but not discreet. He is clumsy and always in his own world, parallel to yours, but you wonder how many light years are between you, and it is all to his credit. There is something you find commendable to his behavior. A reliable honesty. Not unlike a dog, you can tell from the look on his face whether he is content or anxious or annoyed. You do not have to imagine his hidden agenda – you are positive he has none. The easiness with which Seungkwan expresses himself still amazes you, even after a year or so of observing him a few nights a week. It seems to you his feelings have no hindrance to them : pure joy, pure irritation, pure panic whenever one of you breaks a cup – it happens more than you like to admit. When his voice rushes to tell you a quick joke between two customers, the joyful spontaneity of his tone carries you miles away from the counter, to bright afternoons on windy shores. He is quick-witted and never misses a chance to tell you whenever he notices something amusing. Simplicity is Seungkwan’s most beautiful quality, you have decided. When you are not drifting around other solar systems, when you come back home to your place, when you are lying in bed a few minutes more before getting dressed up, you try to imagine what he is doing at the same time. What does his apartment look like, what does he like to cook, does he have a dog and why is his smile so charming. Sometimes under the shower you wonder what he would think about you if he were to see you naked. You try to leave these thoughts in the shower where they belong but you cannot always control your mind and you find yourself embarrassed in front of him more often than you care to admit.

You collect information about him like a gold digger their gold nuggets. Every word he addresses you, you replay in your head again and again until you can hear him breathe them against your ear in the darkness of your bedroom. So when Seungkwan comes back, all quiet and cautious, pondering on his words and his welcoming attitude almost erased, you act on it as best as you can. You are not brave enough to properly ask him about it, so you do what you do best. You observe. How quieter he has become, and the slow but unstoppable growth of the bags under his eyes. Not that he seemed well-rested at all, which is also worrying. What did he go through that was even more tiring than working night shifts? Of course, it is none of your business. If Chan were there, maybe he’d spill the tea, but Chan made it very clear he didn’t want to work a night shift ever again. Will you ever talk to him again? The little one you’re so found of. Chan said Seungkwan was a neat roommate to have, and for him to give up the sunlight for months, you assumes he means it. The understatement is lovely. Chan would never spill Seungkwan’s secrets.

You light up the gas, put the little orange pan on it, pour the milk in it. With that you empty the milk carton, and throw it in the trash. Who knows when you’ll be able to afford milk again? You haven’t seen any in the store for weeks – and you restrain yourself from stealing the Drivin. It isn’t worth it. As you wait for the milk to heat up, you hear a gentle knock on your door. You lower the fire, apprehension growing in your chest. You’re not expecting anybody, so this can’t be good. On your tiptoes, breathing deep, you reach the front door and slowly open it. Wary, you let yourself look at whoever is standing outside.

Oh, miss, hello! Sorry to bother you! Someone just called after you, so I thought I’d let you know ! She lived here too. You don’t know her name, but she’s definitely older than you are. She lives upstairs, you’re not sure of the floor. She looks like a teacher, and her enunciation sounds like that too. She has a little polite smile on, aware of your discomfort, the stiffness of your body being obvious. As she sees your absence of reaction, she hands you a piece of paper, covered in smooth carbon writing. Definitely a teacher. One of your coworker, he said he was. I forgot yo ask for his number, but if he calls back, do you want me to tell him something specific ?

Huh, no! I mean- No, no, no, you don’t need- you don’t- you don’t need to do anything, miss. I’m- I’m sorry he took the liberty to call you, I don’t wish to bother you ! You mouth is so dry. Thank you! Thank you! Sorry again! I’ll leave you be then! Have a nice day! You shut the door without noticing the smile she has on again.

The ringing in your head takes over everything else. You try to reach for something to keep your balance and crumble against the wall, choking for air. You crumple the piece of paper in your fist, nails digging in the soft flesh of your palms, tearing little moon crescent that taint the words you haven’t even read. She knows now. What kind of person doesn’t have a telephone at home? Who, if not someone who is trying to remain unreachable? Untraceable. Your head is about to implode from the pain. Now she’ll know. Now, she knows you have something to hide. You lie on the floor, chasing after your breathe. Who will she tell? Does she live alone ? Is she a public teacher ? How long do you have until she tells on you? You cannot dare to think you might have to go now, tears burning your eyes as you hiccup desperately. The hawk claws on your chest only dig deeper and deeper until your forehead is against the floor, searching for cold, for a relief from the blades in your brain.

The crisis lasts for hours.

The room is dark when you emerge, and a faint, panicked thought about being late comes to you but you’re quick to remember you don’t have to work tonight. Smoke and the smell of burnt is all around you. Shit, the milk. Mouth dry, head numb, you slowly sit up, body hoarse. Feeling a light pain in your hands, you let your fingertips brush over the scab already formed. The piece of paper is still in your left hand, torn and bloody. Finally, you smooth it and read the few words on it. Coworker wants to know when next free day is. also have a good day. You stare at it without making any sense out of it. What coworker? Which one? Your planning is with everyone else’s at work. You feel nauseous. Muscles sore, you stand up and go to the kitchenette to turn the fire down. Without second thought you throw the now empty pan in the trash. Fuck all of this. Mindlessly, you reach the bathroom, undressing yourself as in a dream. After you’re done you let yourself fall on the bed. Quiet, in the back of your head, you start to make a list. Tomorrow, tomorrow you will pack. Just in case.

When you arrive at work the next night, you put an obviously packed bag under the counter. You don’t greet Seungkwan. You don’t look at him. The shift goes by without a word addressed to him. At dawn, a few minutes before you’re both free to go, Seungkwan clears his throat next to you.

I-… Hum. I, well, it’s obvious you don’t want to talk about it, but- Well, just- Just so you know. Chan says he’s sorry. He would never hav- You cut him off, stern, as you wipe the cloth over the counter to make it shine. So it was Chan.

I don’t know what you’re talking about. You hear him open and close his mouth. He seems to understand his place.

O- Ok. Have a good day rest then.You don’t bother to answer him before leaving, bag on your shoulder.

Time passes slowly.

You haven’t looked at Seungkwan in the eyes for so long now, Chan wonders if you still know what he looks like. Every afternoon when Seungkwan eats his breakfast and Chan comes back home to a most welcome snack, the night worker sighs heavy, burdened by your silence. It’s unbearable.  It’s unbearable for him to go to work every night with someone who was once friendly and has turned into a wall, a wall for which he longs to love. It’s unbearable for Chan to see his roommate on the verge of tears because of the guilt. It’s unbearable to know their action has you ready to run away every minute of every day.

The thing with Seungkwan is that he is quite good at reading people. Even though he does enjoy some unnecessary drama as much - and maybe more - as others - he usually manages to get through his life without ruffling any feather. It makes it a lot harder to comfort him with empty words when he knows you’re avoiding him, because he has been looking at you. This is how one should talk to people, he has learned. Not everyone is comfortable doing so, he also learned. Sometimes, Seungkwan says nothing, for he is afraid to annoy you away. There is no pleasure whatsoever in taking the night shift. The place is already dull by day, but by night it reaches a new dimension of boredom. Sure, it pays a bit better, but it is not worth it. Since he is not asked anyway, and he does not get to choose his shifts, Seungkwan tries to prize the strays of light in this fog of ennui. First, the night regulars seem to like him better than the day ones. He likes to think they enjoy his enthusiasm and maybe it is one of the reasons they keep coming and ordering there. The other one is you. Although now you are not at all like a light ray and more of a far away storm, high at sea.

Seungkwan would’ve liked it better if had you unleashed hell upon him. Before you used to not talk to him, but it felt more like you were shy, or reserved. Or merely didn’t know what to say, which is a very understandable feeling when you’re still at work at two in the morning five days a week. It didn’t feel awkward. Well, it sometimes felt a bit awkward, but not in the bad way. Now… Now you’re very obviously pretending he is not there, and Seungkwan wants to cry. All of it is his fault. Chan only called to you because of his rambling. I would have called her anyway. I like her. She’s my weird work friend. It’s unbearable. He jumps when Chan drops his fork on his plate with a loud clunk.

I’ll make it up. I can fix this. The eldest doesn’t look up from his meal. Chan wants to rip his own eyes and scream. With her. Inquisitive and tired eyes shoot up. I’m gonna do something about it.

Wha- Wha- Chan, there’s no fixing it, what are you talking about ? She comes to work every day with a bag which I’m sure is full of necessary stuff. You know what that means. I know what that means. She obviously know what that means. There is no fiwing this.

I know, I know. I don’t mean- Deep breathe. I know I can’t fix everything, obviously. But I’m going to apologize to her, and she’ll talk to you. And, well. It’s going to work. Seungkwan shrugs. He says nothing more until he leaves for work.

Chan slumps into the sofa. He’s fucked up big this time. It sucks. He really is a fool. Living one day at a time, he’s lost perspective. He has even forgotten why his life is like that in the first place. How could he be so careless? He’s a fly. Well, all of you are flies. Clearly, you’ve managed to get out the web and he has brought you back into it. Chan’s a fool. He stands up in a sigh, put on his shoes and goes back to the Dreamy Drivin’.