#i miss his beautiful smile and his voice and his tiny screams when he goes AAAAGH and it sounds so cat coded

[bamgeut]

guys... i miss... kang taehyun...

[moonlight-tmd]

okay, I was just scrolling through my feed and came across angst for the bees in transformers who lost their voices. (TFP, KV, CV, etc)

now let's apply that to TFA and see how bee becomes a shell of himself due to it. I've read fics about it (two) and I wanna know your take on it

Boy they really like to give him that angst do they...

Well, i did read those fics and unfortunatelly, i am a weak weak bitch and cannot take his beautiful voice away(for too long).

I think he would get injured- it's probably Starscream cuz i like the idea of him being a sadist, his voicebox gets ripped and crushed, leaving him mute.

Bee would be so devastated- he tries to talk, scream, anything. There is nothing but painful static.

The others- sure, sometimes they wished Bee would just shut up and stay quiet but they never meant it. And now they are forced to watch as Bee essentially becomes depressed. He can't eat solid foods so he's bound to drinking oil and liquid energon. He almost stopped interacting with others because it's so difficult to let them know what he wants to say; charades are too confusing and writing signs is too slow. All is left of his cheerful attitude is a tiny smile he offers sometimes when he and the others (are trying to)have fun.

Sentinel is the worst, he is oddly untouched at the scout's misery. He straight up says it's good that he shut up when he's not around. Optimus has ended whatever was left of his friendship with Sentinel long ago, but it seems like Sentinel never acknowledged Optimus saying anything- like he's above what the failure of a Prime is saying to him.

They are stuck like this- Bee hanging on by a thread that is threatening to snap at any moment and the others desperately trying to hold onto Bee and help him out of this Pit.

Bee is crafty so one time a radio breaks and he tried to fix it. Static spills over garbled words whenever he's trying to tune it, it remind his of something... He fixed it at last, the static briefly present whenever the channel is switched and songs or radio news play, tuning in and cutting sentences, almost making a new one- That gives Bee an idea.

He spend a a whole week trying to get his own radio to obey him. The others are so surprised when Bee answers one of their questions with cut up song lyrics and words from the radio, but they are very happy- Bee has started to look up, slowly but surely. The amount of relief they felt when Bee used the laughting sound effects to mimic his own laugh. He's still sad that it's not his own voice, but that is the closest he can do.

I imagine it was Longarm that took mercy on the scout- they were good friends, Longarm had grown fond of Bee as a friend. It hurt him to see Bee so sad- just like in boot camp when Wasp tormented him. So- Longarm, being the Data Master, steals Bee's medical info and other stuff and contacts Swindle about it. He has everything- parameters, size, settings, type, even various voice samples from when he and Bee talked to find the perfect voicebox to replace his missing one. Bee might have infected Longarm with his stubbornness cuz he's determined to make Bee talkative again.

Longarm comes to Ratchet and gives him the necessary parts and materials to fix Bee, he avoid any questions like 'where did you get this?' and leaves. Ratchet assumes it because he's a Prime with connections.

Bee has to force-refresh his processor to comprehend what Ratchet just said to him. He goes under a surgery and it's succesful.

He could not stop crying, his voice was back. Primus he wanted to say so many things but this was so ovewhelming he couldn't stop ugly sobbing.

The whole day he said everything that was on his mind- i mean everything. No filter to separate his thoughts from what he wanted to actually say, he spilled so much answering questions and how he felt the others didn't know if they were trembling from happiness or the sheer worry about the minibot.

After that, whenever Bee is annoying, the moment they want to say 'shut up' or something like that, they get flashbacks to when Bee was mute. They never told him to shut up ever again- instead they try to manouver their situation to make Bee go do his own thing and leave them to do that important thing they were doing.

To say the least, that situation was traumatizing to all of them.

And of course, Bee couldn't help but tackle-hug Longarm and repeat 'thank you' over and over again the next time he visited.

[nescaveckwriter]

Hurting Angel - Chapter One 🥰

Crowley x reader (also known as Bri)

Chapter One 🐞

A/N: Hey my bugsies, so this was requested by a beautiful anonymous bugsie, I sure do hope y'all are going to enjoy this series...🥰💓

Side Note: Let me know what y'all think, also thank you all for the support - also all my stories can be found on watpad aswell.🥹🤭

Warnings: Blood, thriller, horror, sarcasm, mentioning of guns, if there's anything else, let me know... Much love "Nesca" 🐞

Go on a blind date they said, it'll be fun they said. You need to get out more Bri, they said. " Remind me again why I agreed to download the stupid dating app, signing up for it in the first place was crazy, damn freaking nuts. "

Stirring the drink at the bar, not really feeling like drinking, but hey its a bar, its what your supposed to do right!

The bartender basically screaming over the loud music, 'you okay miss?'

"Yeah of course never been better, love getting stood up," her lips pursed

The barman didn't quite know how to answer that, so he just walked further down to the other end.

Irritated about the fact you got stood up and that it bothers you a tiny bit, you pull out your phone, texting the babysitter, asking if everything is still alright, with Lainey.

The text came through, "Little Lainey is watching my little pony and she already had her dinner, enjoy yourself a bit darling" Mrs Anderson is the only person she trusts with Lainey.  Biting her lip, maybe I should stay a little longer, just enjoy myself for awhile, unwind, the story about the biggest crime syndicate is really taking over my damn life, I'm this close, mimicking with her index finger and thumb, to uncovering the face behind the leader, his code name "The Devil" a crooked smile on her lips, its such a stupid nickname, like are the people supposed to be immediate, well like yeah, here comes the little red man, with his pointy tail and ears, with his little pitch fork, all I know for sure is his name is Crowley, and he goes by the devil, as for how he looks, I'll find that out very soon, well as soon as my source comes through anyway.

''Drinking alone and looking as beautiful as you, is just a crime'' the silvery voice says, breaking her out of her deep thoughts. Turning her head to the barstool next to hers. ''Oh really? last time I checked there's a lot worse crimes in this world'', sounding a little more snarky than she intended. The man with his neatly combed over blonde hair and blue eyes laughs, ''not in the mood for company?'' 

''In all honesty, not if your going to tell me cheesy pick up lines all night'' she sighed.

''Your safe, I promise, that was my last, you have my word'' he laughed

''Okay good! Then your more than welcome to join me,'' sounding inviting

The man, asks for the bartender to give them two more, of whatever she's having. After getting your drinks, the two of you talked, not really exchanging names, merely about how noisy it is, and the fact that, they both got stood up. Still laughing and having fun, some guy bumps into your chair, letting your handbag fall to the ground. ''Hey! Look where you going buddy'' she warned. The guy just gestures a sorry and keeps on stumbling further. 

''This place is getting to crowded, I'm going to head home, as soon as I finish the last few sips'', she expressed

''Leave now? We are just getting to know each other'', his silvery voice, sounded so smooth.

''Biting her lip, yes thank you for the nice chat'' getting up, to only fall back again, holding her head in her hand, "oh wow, how is it possible that I feel so lightheaded, I had two drinks," everything is spinning, my body feels so numb, so outside of myself. Fumbling through her handbag, trying to take her phone. Hearing the bartender say something, the man next to her, sounded so disembodied when he answered, looks like she had a bit to much to drink, I'll take her home, taking ahold of her arm, let's get you home!

Something is wrong, has she been drugged? Trying to get her arms to function to push him away, so that she can get out of his grip, but her body feels weak, her muscles is losing all functionality, as for her eyelids it feels as heavy as stone, she whispers a shaky "no" before everything goes. dark.

Her eyes starting to slightly open, "w..what happened", she mumble's. Glancing over the room, to see if she recognises anything, her view is hazy "where's the man that took her" hearing the dripping sound of water, "it's freezing" breathing heavily, excruciating pain shuttering throughout her body, feeling still slightly numb, tracing her fingers over her abdomen area, her hands trembling when she feels a long incision, and the thread of a wound being closed up, unknowingly tugs at the pointy strand, "what the hell" she gasped.

Forcing herself to see more clearly, glancing down, shaking uncontrollable, her eyes widening, her body is laying in a bathtub covered with ice, some crystal clear, others stained with red, most likely from the blood, still seeping through her left side. "My side its sliced open" she yelled, as if she only realized that what she felt previously was her own body.

Searching across the bathroom, for anything other than the dripping sound and the shaking of her own body, she grabs ahold of the bathtub, her fingers a discoloration of blueish-white, forcing her body over the edge, plumping to the ground, "dammit" she exclaims. Dragging herself across the floor, moaning and whimpering in pain.

Opening the wooden door slowly to peek through, to see if anyone is stil there keeping watch, sighing in relief, "the coast is clear. " Crawling to the edge of the bed, trying to get up, still shaking and weak, she forces herself up, rolling over, taking in a deep breath, her heart is beating rapidly, her throat dry, her voice sounding hoarse. "I need to get to a phone, hospital something"

Grabbing a blanket to wrap up her shaking body, that's only covered in a black sports bra and her black shorts, making her way to a shaky stance. Holding onto whatever she can find as she stumbles out of the room. The bright streetlights making her eyes burn, glaring down the stairs," really the least they could do is butcher me on ground level" irritation in her painstaking voice.

Dragging one foot across the other, down the steel staircase. Searching the parking lot for a vehicle or help of some sort. There in the corner, an old chevy Camaro, "almost there" she sighs.

Pulling the door, praying it isn't locked, "yes, its open" a half smile forming on her tired face. Hoping the keys are still inside, she gets in. "Dammit, no keys, why would it be easy, nothing is every easy" her voice low and weak.

Pulling the ignition with every last bit of strength she has, "need something to strip the plastic covered wires" peeking through the car, in the window hangs a beer opener, reaching for it, taking it to the wires, pulling it across the starter wire, striping the plastic about 1'3 inches back, then doing the same with the battery wire, touching the two ends together, something she learned when she was a teenager, "Come on baby, come, there you go, that's a girl" she whined.

Throwing it in drive, and stepping on the gas, she drives off, leaving a man in her rear view window chasing after her.

Looking at the street signs, trying to read it, but its all a blur, turning down the first left she can find, looks like a residential area, "maybe I can get some help here" she utters desperately.

Feeling the blood rolling down her side onto her thighs, her breathing more shallow and her eyes heavy, knowing she needs help quick! Real quick! Making her foot heavy on the gas, not taking the turn in consideration, she crashes into a wall,  making her head jolt to the steering wheel, glancing over the shattered windscreen, at two men with weapons, running towards her, she looses consciousness.

Chapter Two Here 🐞

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

back at it again with the 2 billionth joker request 🤭 I keep getting ideas LMAO

after you made that post about him being abandoned by his mother & having a child of his own he can't bear (or bare idk) to leave I've been thinking about it for quite some time now, a scenario where the s/o is giving birth and once the child is here he cried with child 🥲

how dare you make me write this with my own two hands-

DISCLAIMER: This piece is accompanied by a section of lyrics from the song “Piece By Piece” by Kelly Clarkson! I don’t own the song, don’t claim to, and am not profiting off this piece at all.

piece by piece, I fell far from the tree I will never leave [him] like you left me and [he] will never have to wonder [his] worth because unlike you, I’m gonna put [him] first.

When JOKER gets the message that (Name) is in labor, he’s surprised his heart doesn’t burst right out of his chest.

He’s there within minutes, and he thinks he would have been there in seconds if it were physically possible. Nothing else really matters right now, except being there to see his child come into the world. This is the moment he’s been waiting his entire life for! He can’t miss it…

All he can really do as he crouches there next to his beloved, holding their hand, is pray that it’s an easy birth. He’s heard so many horror stories of births that last a full day or more, and imagining his darling struggling through that, being in so much pain, just to bring their little baby into the world, is like torture. Especially because, well, there’s nothing he can do to prevent it or make it easier.

“Ye got it,” he murmurs in what he hopes is a supportive voice as he lets (Name) clutch his hand. It’s his good one, just so their agonized grip doesn’t risk breaking the prosthetic. (He can just hear Doc’s scolding of, “You didn’t realize they could break your hand while giving birth?! Imagine trying to squeeze out a tiny human and see if just the thought doesn’t give you ungodly strength! You have to be more careful!”)

The other hand, what he’s always thought of as his ‘bad’ one, runs gently through their hair. “Ah, ye’re doin’ so good, my love. It’s… it’s gonna be jus’ fine, alrigh’? I’m ‘ere, an’ ye’re doin’ a great job, jus’ breathe.”

Breathe they do, in between wails of pain. Speaking of Doc, he should probably be here to help things along, but… Beast is doing well enough as a stand-in midwife. Much as Joker is thankful to Doc, the idea of it being just family to witness the birth of their child is more appealing to him. If anything goes wrong, they’re close enough that they can rush (Name) over to the medical tent.

It seems that for the first time in his life, God has decided to answer Joker’s prayers. Things don’t drag on for too much longer before Beast pops her head up to speak to (Name). “Alright, c’mon! Give us one more big push, sweet’eart, I think that’ll do it!”

“It hurts so bad,” (Name) sobs. “I don’t know if I can take it!”

Beast gives them a pat on the leg. “Yes, y’ can! Y’re doin’ great, jus’ give us one more push ‘n’ it’ll be over! Deep breath, ‘n’… push!”

The rest of it is a blur, and Joker can imagine that it all doesn’t matter to (Name) too much either, not once the baby is actually here. Beast, bless her heart, works fast — cutting the umbilical cord, helping (Name) through getting the afterbirth out, cleaning the screaming infant up. After their baby is delivered, it feels like the rest of the process takes all of ten or so minutes.

Joker stays with (Name) as they hold their son for the first time, and he notices that Beast quietly slips out to let the new parents have their moment of privacy. He gives her a grateful smile before turning back to his partner. He continues to praise them in a low voice, that they did so well, that finally their little boy Ellis is here, that this is such a beautiful start to their family, that he’s proud of them.

At last, (Name) gestures for him to move closer, toward their arms. “Here, my love. Come hold your son.”

Just those words, your son, are enough to bring tears to his eyes. Despite the fact that he tries to hide it, he feels so much, all the time, and a lot of those feelings are distracting or unpleasant.

This is the best possible mix of emotions he could be overwhelmed by. There’s some worry tingeing it all, but he doesn’t want that to ruin the rest of it.

He reaches down, both hands shaking, and gently takes the baby in his arms. All Ellis is doing is crying; with an air of amusement to his thoughts, he decides he can’t blame the little one. Coming into existence must be just as hard as continuing to exist.

“There’s my wee babe,” he coos as he straightens up. Cuddling this tiny life against his chest, looking down at this incredible child he helped to create, his thoughts suddenly turn to something else.

… His mother. He doesn’t know if his father was any different, but the little he knows about his mother is enough to make his head spin.

She left him, a baby, and he doesn’t even know how. Did she leave him on someone’s doorstep and knock, ensuring that he’d be taken care of, because she knew she couldn’t take care of him? Did she leave him in some box in the gutters, rain-soaked and next to the filth of London’s streets, because she didn’t know where to go?

Did she want him? Or was he just… a mistake? An accident?

Even if he was, people still manage to love babies who weren’t planned. Hell… he and (Name) didn’t plan Ellis. They weren’t trying to get pregnant.

And yet, he still loves his son. He loved this baby for so long before Ellis even arrived.

Now that Joker has his baby in his arms, looking down at this small person who’s less than an hour old, he doesn’t think he could love his child more. But he knows he will tomorrow, and the next day, and every day after that until he dies.

The thought of just leaving Ellis somewhere and walking away, never coming back, makes Joker feel physically ill. Tears are rolling down his face before he knows what’s going on, because his thoughts are a jumbled mess as he tries to make sense of his past.

How could she leave him? Aren’t mothers supposed to be the first one to love a person, even if it’s not quite instant? Didn’t his mother have some kind of responsibility to make sure the life she brought into the world was cared for, even if she didn’t have any good options to take care of him herself?

He can’t imagine leaving Ellis on a doorstep or in an alleyway or wherever his mother left him. He can’t imagine not feeling a sense of duty to ensure his child has everything he needs.

It wasn’t so black and white for his mother. That’s something he can understand, at least a bit; the little he knows about her is that she was a prostitute, a line of work that all but ensures a woman will end up pregnant, and a line of work most people look down on. It wasn’t as if she could just walk up to someone and hand them her baby and say, “I need you to take care of him because I can’t.”

There just… there had to be something she could have done, hadn’t there? Anything other than washing her hands of her child entirely?

He tries so hard not to be bitter about it. Those thoughts just run wild sometimes, wondering how she left him and if she ever loved him at all.

The bad ones have taken root in his mind like weeds in a garden, convincing him that she threw him away. That she left because she saw she’d given birth to a baby with only one arm. That she was disgusted by him, that she left him somewhere to die instead of leaving him somewhere that gave him a chance.

And if his mother never loved him, then who else could? If the person who brought him into the world saw something so wrong with him that she abandoned him, what could anyone else see in him that was worth loving?

The part of him that wants to hope pushes back with, (Name) did. They saw someone with a sweet smile, a kind heart; someone loyal and devoted who’s willing to do anything for the people he loves. They saw you and they loved you and they will love you until the stars burn into ash. And now they’ve given you a child to protect.

Whatever else his life will become, whatever similarities he shares with his mother, he will not walk away from his baby like she walked away from him.

He doesn’t care how hard life gets. He doesn’t care what struggles he’ll face. He doesn’t care what he has to do.

Abandoning his child just isn’t an option for him.

Ellis will grow up knowing that he is loved, and he won’t ever have to guess whether his parents wanted him. He won’t have to wonder if there’s anything wrong with him.

By this point, even Joker doesn’t know if he’s crying or laughing as he rocks Ellis in his arms. Both, most likely.

“Papa’s ‘ere, Ellis,” he whispers to his child. “I’m ‘ere. ‘N’ I always will be. I ain’t never gonna leave y’. I promise.”

This might be the only promise he fully keeps in his life.

But by God, he is going to keep it.

[dr4cking]

Tutor

draco malfoy x reader | smut | fluff

"miss y/n, this is getting horrible, you have been failed at my class so many times, your grades isnt doing better, now all i can do is to suggest you by getting a tutor" professor slughorn sighed handing y/n her last test disappointedly.

"im sorry professor, i promise i will try harder and get better" y/n took her paper and going back to her seat.

"im sure you're a great student, you just need some help. uhm- mr. malfoy? do you mind tutoring your classmate here, miss y/n? its only you who is the bestest in my class" the professor asked to one of the best students, the famous draco malfoy, y/n gulped and waiting nervously for his answer. she had this little crush on him since they always had classes together and she's in the same house as him, but they were not exactly 'close'.

"oh i dont mind, professor. its my pleasure" draco answers politely, taking a look at y/n making the girl look down and blush, a smile appeared to his face. little did she know, he has a big crush on the lovely girl who seemed clueless about all the hints he gave her almost everyday.

professor slughorn just nodded and dismissed the class, everyone packed their things and left, y/n look at draco who's already staring at her with a genuine smile plastered in his face, motioning her to follow him. she feels like her heart jumped out of the place, she follows him behind as draco walking them to his room.

as they arrived in draco's room, y/n admires the design, it was elegant and neat. typical rich slytherins room.

"it looks nice" y/n said opening the conversation.

"thanks, put my hardest work to make it look the best. here, take a seat beside me" draco patting the side of his couch, there's a small table in front of the couch.

y/n took a seat beside him, and placing her books to the table, the tension was so awkward that she wished she was a talkative person.

draco started the lesson, y/n learned faster from the way draco explained it than in the class, but she would be lying if she said she hasnt lost her focuses a few times to studying draco's face, he's just so beautiful. she thinks he didnt noticed, but he did, he just keep it to himself.

after hours studying, y/n feels like her head will going to explode in a minute, she decided to take a break.

"god can we take a break, draco? this is so stressing, why cant i just be smart like you, dont get me wrong you're a great tutor but im just too dumb" y/n protested, massaging her head and rubbing her face in frustration.

"oh y/n dont say that! we can take a break of course, but to make you feel better, i promise you, you're doing so great now, you've improved a lot, im so proud of you" draco said cheering her up, his hand goes to tucked her hair behind her ear reassuring her.

y/n look up to draco, giving him a sweet shy smile and her cheeks turns red as draco keeps complimented her, before they know it they were leaning into each other and their lips met, the kisses were soft and lovely, draco cupped her cheeks caressing it gently while y/n wrapped her arms around the back of his neck pulling him closer tugging at his hair deepening the kisses making both of them let out a small moans.

as the kisses turn into a full makeout and got heated, draco lays her down gently on the couch placing soft wet kisses on her neck, sucking on it, marking her causing her to let out a soft moan, he placed one of his hand on her thigh rubbing small circles until his hand got higher, he pulled away.

"do you wanna take this further, love? we can stop now if you dont want to" draco asked and y/n shakes her head no and put his hand back to her inner thigh.

"no draco please keep going i want you, i need this" draco groans and he continues rubbing her clit from her panties feeling the wetness that already make a spot on her panties, soft whines escaped her lips as draco keep teasing her clit, he pushes her panties aside and insert one finger inside her making y/n let out a constant squeal and she covered her mouth quickly, her eyes rolled back at the pleasure.

y/n's moans were muffled by her hand, draco cant help but getting harder by looking at her expression, he still cant believe he finally got the girl he always adored like this, he added another fingers into her cunt, curling them inside her making the girl squirmed under his touch.

"dont cover your mouth, let me hear your beautiful voice, show me how good i make you feel, love" draco said as he takes her hand off of her mouth and intertwining their hands instead with his free hand while his fingers still working their way in and out of her tight hole getting faster each time, he stares at her in awe, how gorgeous she looks right now, mouth hung open, eyes rolled back in pleasure and all because of him, he feels butterflies filling his stomach.

"yes- yes draco, oh god.. you make me feel so good" draco go down to her pussy, pulling off her panties, putting her thighs on his shoulder and positioning his face in front of her glistening cunt and started to eat her out making y/n a moaning mess, he let out a moan too at the taste of her, getting addicted to it, he can even eat her out for all day if she let him.

"do you like the way my tongue plays with your pretty pussy, love? mhmm you taste so fucking delicious baby" draco keeps sucking on her clit, its like he was making out with it, his tongue going in and out of her hole his fingers going with the same pace as his tongue.

"ah- yes draco i love it, oh- please im so close" y/n keep moaning uncontrollably while her hand grasping tightly onto his hair.

"yes baby, let it out, cum on my tongue, let me taste you, darling" draco wants nothing more than to pleasure her right now, making this moment unforgettable for both of them, and within seconds y/n screams his name and cumming hard on his mouth, laying breathlessly still steadying her breath after her intense orgasm.

draco pulled away and y/n blushing madly looking at his face, his mouth covered in her juices, he smiles proudly at her, sucking his fingers clean, and hovered over her, reconnecting their lips, y/n hummed at the taste of herself on his tongue. draco started to unbuttoned her shirt, taking her bra off too and throw them to somewhere, he hungrily kissing her breasts, playing with her nipples causing y/n to get wetter while her hands working on his belt and taking his pants off, his erected dick slapped up to his lower stomach, she took it in her tiny hand and stroking it massaging the tip, making him groans.

"god.. you're so beautiful y/n.." y/n mumbles a quick 'thankyou' at the compliment getting impatient, wanting nothing more than to be taken by the blonde guy.

"draco, please, i need you so bad" she cant take it anymore, she wanted to feel him, wrapping him inside her tightly, she whimpers at the feel of his hard dick rested on her thigh.

"your wish is my command, princess" draco lining up his dick on her cunt, rubbing his tip up and down on her clit lubricate it before slowly pushing in, they both moaning each other names out loud at the sensation, both of their heads thrown back and eyes screwed shut in pleasure, y/n wrapped her legs on his waist pulling him deeper, draco paused a moment as he was fully inside her, letting her adjust to his size.

"you can move draco, god you're so big" y/n dug her nails onto his back as he slowly made a move, pulling out until its just his tip inside and slamming it back again, making y/n bites her bottom lip.

draco started to pick up his pace, pushing her legs to her chest making more access as he continues to thrust in and out deeper and faster inside her, he put his hands next to the side of her face to support his weight, y/n runs her hands on his chest, scratching it, her breasts bouncing up and down under him.

"merlin, you're so tight baby feels so good, fuck- how can someone feels this good-" draco said as he kissed her lips, his lips trembling against hers, he bites softly on her bottom lip to hold his scream as he feels her walls clenching around him, squeezing him tighter.

"oh my god- draco, right there, holy-" y/n cant even finishes her words as she screams louder when draco keeps hitting her spot, going deeper and faster each time, bringing her to her high.

"baby, are you close?" y/n nodded at his question, cant even answer him as she was too focused as the coil started to tighten in her stomach.

"good baby, cause i cant hold it much longer, now cum love, cum for me" draco rubbed a circle on her clit, his thrusts getting sloppier, y/n screamed his name out loud seeing the stars as she finally hit her orgasm, harder than the first one and draco cant help at the feeling of her walls clenching really hard around him after her high, he spilled his thick cum inside her, painting her walls white non stop, making both of them groans, his vision going blurry, he collapsed on top of y/n, burying his face on her hair, running out of breath, their bodies started to shake.

"fuck y/n that was amazing, you are too good for me, love" draco kiss her lips again as he finished, he pulls out gently, but before he can stand up he falls to her side, both of them laughs.

"look at what you did to me, y/n" draco laughed as he slowly standing up to get the towel and clean her up.

"if this is how the tutoring ends, i wouldnt mind doing it again" y/n said, smirking to him confidently as draco helped her up to his bed, giving her a cheeky grin.

[strawberrykake]

Reuniting at the Airport

timeskip!haikyuu, fluff

osamu, hinata, oikawa

✈︎ Osamu ⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

“Yer kidding me?” Samu gives you an unimpressed look through the phone screen as you facetime him. You tried to lie to him, saying that you were still at home, but he was able to make out the obvious background of the familiar airport’s concrete walls.

“C’mon, lemme see ya, already.” Your clearly agitated boyfriend looks around for you as he walks with the phone held in front of him as he speaks to you. His hair looked tousled from a long airplane ride, dark circles under his eyes probably due to lack of sleep. Feeling bad, you decide to jump out of your hiding place and there he was, bumping right in front of you.

You let out a small oomph as he catches you, flattening a hand on your back. He’s startled at first, wondering who would be in his way. But the familiar scent of your shampoo and that melodic voice of yours has him pulling you closer. Plus the fact that you had on one of his sweaters that he lent you—but let’s be real, you practically own it now.

“Hey, there.” He smirks.

“Hey,” you say with a guilty smile. You thought he’d start lecturing you or complain about the stunt you just pulled, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he grabs your face admiring it closely. It’s not the same to see you through a digital screen. He much prefers this in-person interaction. He misses your touch, the feel of your skin beneath his…

You had your eyes closed, ready for a kiss but he doesn’t close the tiny gap. One of your eyes peek open to see him gazing with a lovesick smile.

“What?”

“Whaddya mean what, jus’ wanna look at ya.” The boy presses his nose against yours, pecking it lightly. Then, finally, after what felt like hours, he pulls you in a tight hug.

“Missed ya a lot,” he says after a sigh. All the gloomy energy seemed to leave him after your hug. A smile is attached to his face. You don’t miss the chance to lean up, surprising him with a kiss on the lips.

“Missed you, too, baby.”

✈︎ Hinata ⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ���︎

You wait eagerly at the airport for Shoyo to arrive from Brazil. A swarm of people begin entering from the gate and your eyes frantically search for your ginger-haired boyfriend. It took a couple of minutes before you notice him, looking tanner than usual, a navy-colored pillow neck around his shoulders, with his ridiculously large backpack. He was busy chattering with someone. An older middle aged man who had a friendly smile painted on his face. When they got closer, you could get a grasp of the situation.

“It was really nice meeting you, sir! Thanks for helping me find my seat. Tell your lovely family I said hi!” It doesn’t surprise you that Shoyo makes friends everywhere he goes. Something about his sunny disposition draws people in.

Your boyfriend looks around, scratching his chin, looking lost for a moment before his eyes land upon you. And you realize how much you miss his smile, his hugs, his voice, his presence.

“Y/N!!!” he practically screams, dropping his sunglasses that were in his hands and running straight to you. Your smile widens when you lock eyes. Despite the long airplane trip he had been complaining about, there isn’t a lick of exhaustion on his face. He looks as energetic as ever.

Just as he reaches you, he gives you the biggest hug, making you both almost fall over, but thanks to his great upper body strength, he pulls you back, feet planted on the ground.

“Man, I have so much to share with you,” he says, pulling back. “But first,” he starts, planting one loving kiss on your lips which surprises you because PDA isn’t very common in your relationship. “You have to tell me how you managed to stay so beautiful.” You feel your cheeks warm from the compliment and he’s grinning confidently.

God, did he miss you, too.

Damn, what did Brazil do to you, Shoyo?

✈︎ Oikawa ⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

You saw Oikawa exiting the gate with his backpack and a mini bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hand. If we’re being honest, the flowers looked like they were going through a tough time. Probably from its long journey. Oikawa is sort of mimicking the flower’s wilted posture, looking sad and gloomy. A small frown was on his face before he finally sees you. And then, he’s grinning.

“Hi, baby,” he says before hugging you. After a few minutes of recollecting the feeling of being in each other’s arms, Oikawa offers you his gift.

“I brought you these. Your favorites.” Oikawa lifts up the flowers, teary-eyed and looking sad again, making you worried.

“Babe! What’s wrong?” you cup his cheeks, forming a pout on his lips.

“They were fine when I got on the plane! I had six of these flowers for our sixth anniversary. But then, this little girl wanted one so I gave one to her. And then I dropped it as I walking off the plane and someone stepped on them! And then—”

“Tooru!” you say his name, making him pause in his frantic rambling. “I love them! They’re beautiful…” His frown remains on his face, unconvinced by your statement.

“Really?” he asks.

“Totally.” You take the flowers and sniff them. They haven’t lost their fragrance. “They smell wonderful, too. Thank you so much, love.” Leaning forward, you pucker your lips and he gives in, planting one sweet kiss.

“Babe, I missed you.” He finally confesses, taking your hand in his. What he doesn’t confess is that in the plane, he treated those flowers as if they were you, talking to them and telling them how excited he was to see you. It provided him emotional support. That probably explains why he’s grown an attachment to them. But now that you’re here in front of him, he has nothing to complain about.

“I missed you, too, Tooru.” You lean in once more to kiss him three times. “C’mon, you must be hungry. Wanna go eat somewhere?” you ask him and his face brightens up immediately, remembering all the home foods he missed. He nods and you both make your way straight to your usual food place that sells the best Tonkotsu.

taglist below ｡⋆｡˚ ʚïɞ ˚｡⋆｡

@dai-tsukki-desu @crystal-lilac @remajalabill @ashisbored @yuubabe @luvrzumi

[vannybarber]

Eyes Forward

Summary: Let's face it, long haired Chris is irresistible. So you take your chances.

Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: SMUT, oral (f to m), handjob, rimming (f to m), LONG HAIRED CHRIS, fluff 🥺 this gif can absorb me 🥵.

Watching the two beautiful brown skinned goddesses grind and makeout on the screen, you couldn't help the puddle forming in your panties. This wasn't the first time you and your buddy Christopher have watched explict films together. In fact, it was one of you guys' favorites genres.

You and Chris had found a show called 'The Wire', which has a 9.3 rating on IMDB. A rating that high on such a stingy app had to be good. A sex scene between the two women had arrived, which threw you both off because of how unfiltered it was. But you weren't complaining. Neither was Chris.

He was fixated on the TV, watching the view before him, a boner visibly formed through his grey sweats. Trying to adjust himself, he fails as he gets distracted again by the close up of them.

Getting a sudden burst of bravery, you maneuver your left hand onto his bulge and rub it in a slow motion. He whips his head at you, puzzled, but somehow absentmindedly grinding himself onto your hand.

You put your index finger to your mouth and point back to the screen with a small smirk. He follows your silent orders without protest. It's not like he could form words at the moment anyway.

The scene gets more intense as the woman straddling Sonja, the actress, breasts show on the screen and she takes them both in her mouth. Chris sucks in a breath, which is quickly covered with a cough as you add pressure to his covered length. You let a giggle escape from your pressed lips.

You turn your body so your front is fully facing his right side and switch hands, laying your right one back on his pants and your left around his neck.

"Y/N..", he says through gritted teeth.

"Shh and keep your eyes foward." You nibble on his ear and squeeze him to affirm your instructions. Moving your lips down to his neck, planting long but soft kisses, he groans, thrusting himself up in your grip. Getting at his hints, you push your hand inside his pants and slowly smooth a soft but firm way down his shaft. It almost shocked you how long it took your fingertips to reach the head.

You look up at Chris and his eyes are slowly closing so you squeeze him in your hand. He shoots his eyes open and looks at you.

"Do not close your eyes. Keep them open and watch the TV" you command in a rather stern voice. "Don't they look amazing?" He nods his head in agreement.

"The one with the short hair has beautiful tits." You smile because he's absolutely right.

"Yes, she does. Look at the way she's sucking them." As you comment on the scene, you rub your hand up and down his cock as much as possible, but grow frustrated with the restriction of his clothes. "Take your pants off."

He moves to shove his jeans down and kicks his feet out the holes. Getting a better view, he is well endowed. You take both hands and stroke him. He can't help but watch, but the scene is over so you don't scold him.

"You like that baby?" You coax him, moving a little faster. You both make eye contact and he breathlessly lets out a 'yes'. You bit your lip and smile. Catching him off guard, you dip your head down and take him in your mouth.

He maneuvers his right hand onto your ass, giving it a squeeze. You moan around him, making him groan and thrust up into your mouth. Suddenly you pull back. He quickly gets worried.

"What's wrong?" You cup his cheek.

"Oh nothing. As much as I love you feeling on my ass, I want you to see me sucking your cock."

With that, you slide off the couch and on your knees in between his legs. He sighs, appeased and adjusting himself so he could get the perfect view.

"Hope you weren't worried there." You joke, smiling and winking at him. He grins, shaking his head. He's still rock solid and throbbing when you grab his cock again and sliding your mouth back on it.

After bobbing your head up and down for some time, you take him out and push his legs further out to drag your tounge from the very bottom, swirling around his tight hole. You let out a hot breath over it, resulting in him letting out a small whimper while you pump him faster.

You move back up, tongue still on him and lick up his wide shaft and take him back in your mouth, finishing him off. A few more seconds and you feel him twitch.

"Fuck, I'm 'bout to cum" he groans out. Warm shots of his seed score in your throat and slide down your tongue. Satisfied, you suck up and off him, making sure you collect every drop. You open your mouth, and show him the mess he made in you. He nods with approval.

"Swallow."

You gulp down all the sweet content and smile at him. Getting off your knees, you strip from your clothes, pussy aching from the need to have him inside you. He watches as you remove everything, all your forbidden parts coming into view.

"Like whatcha see, Evans?" You smirk at him.

"Yeah, but I'd like it better if it was inside it." He doesn't have to say any more. You climb on his lap and pull his shirt over his head, ginger locks falling back into place.

"Ya know, I'm really loving this look. You should keep your hair like this." You comb your fingers through his silky hair, mesmerized with it.

"If it makes you do shit like this, I'm just might." He traces his fingers on your thighs and moves them up your hips and on your back, pushing you towards him. Your lips plant on his, moving in perfect motion, not missing one beat.

Mouths staying connected, you grab his cock and meet it with your entrance and sink down slowly to feel it stretch every wall. You suck in a breath and moan, fully seated on him. After getting comfortable, you pull away and start moving on him. Looking in his eyes, you search for his breaking point. The move that's gonna do it for him.

"You like that baby? You like when I bounce on your cock?" His eyes shift almost at your verbal attack. He slaps your ass in response but also a warning. You just grin. It's working.

"Gotdamn Y/N, you're so fucking tight." His face crunches up, head thrown to the cushion of the couch. You squeeze him as a thanks. Workouts pay off.

"A tight, wet pussy and a big ole cock, what'd you expect?" You kind of laugh as you move faster on him. You could feel him touching every spot inside you, that sharp ping of pleasure hitting you everytime you slide back up.

"Fuck, daddy you're gonna make me cum," you whine out, not being able to handle the feeling, like you asserted before. You flatten your palms on his shoulders and try to bounce as fast as you can, but the ecstasy is weakening your ability. Chris takes notice and quickly solves the issue.

Pushing you towards him, he adjusts your knees up a little closer to his hips and grips your ass and starts fucking into you. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and drop your head down beside his.

"Mmm Chris that feels so," you let out a whimper when he hits your spot 2 thrusts in a row, "so good."

"Mhm you thought you were the one in control, didn't you sweetheart?" The sound of your ass hitting his thighs accelerates your want to cum. You need it so bad.

"Shoving your hand down my pants, tryna seduce me, but who's the one getting her pretty little hole fucked??" At every word, a thrust gets harder and your mind goes even more blank.

You can't even form words, only adorable tiny noises and moans leaving your vocal box. He grips your waist roughly, not satisfied with your answer.

"You better fucking answer me or I'll stop right now and make you suck me off again and this sweet little pussy won't get to cum." He slaps your sore pussy and you inhale a single, but deadly breath.

"I am! I'm getting my little h-hole fucked," you scream. It was humiliating, but that's what made it more arousing. You tried to be in control, but failing effortlessly once he was deep inside you.

"Good baby. Daddy's fucking this hole way better than anyone else could, so it's only fair that it belong to me now, right?" He looks up at you and grabs your face to look him in the eyes. "This pussy is mine, yeah?"

At this point, fuck it.

"Yes, Daddy my hole belongs to you! All my holes are yours." You could feel that familiar pressure rising in the pit of your stomach as he fucks up in it. You grow excited, but more determined to make it last.

"I'm gonna cum," you moan as he lets your face go, but not breaking eye contact. "Make me cum, Daddy. I wanna cum all over your cock. I want it so bad. More than anything!"

"Just let go, baby. Let go for Daddy." His voice is soft and encouraging. You do as he says and let your orgasm take over your body. He could feel your hot cum spreading all over the head of his cock.

In retaliation, he shortly follows, filling your pussy to the brim, quite more than he ever has before.

"I feel so full." You sigh, content and fulfilled. A dopey smile is on your face and your body is limp. He rubs your back and plants kisses on the side of your face and on your shoulder blade.

"I'm gonna go give you a bath. Alright, bear?" He turns his head, waiting for you to look at him and give the 'ok'. You lift your head.

"Can we just stay here for a little bit longer please?" He kisses your nose and wraps his arms around you, securing you to him.

"Of course." You lie your head back down and close your eyes.

You could get used to this.

I know I said I was gonna finish this a long time ago, but I got distracted per usual 😭 hope you guys liked it 🧡

masterlist

[quackiseok]

— sweet dreams

feral boys x gn! reader || headcanons

genre : fluff

warnings : swearing

summary : the feral boys' reaction to you falling asleep in their embrace or on them!

a/n : AYY HELLO!! i'm so sorry for the lack of content these last three days OTL but here's something i wrote, hope you guys liked it! ♡

song to listen to while reading :

— DREAM

let's say dream has just finished recording for his upcoming manhunt video and it was a chilly night

well, the solution? a gun CUDDLES!!! ♡

he's a sucker for cuddles and you love cuddling with him too, so why not?

the two of you plopped yourselves on the bed, warm blankets wrapping the two of you together

the first plan was to watch a movie, but the two of you ended up talking to each other and leaving the movie unwatched

he share many stories with you, letting you rest your head on his chest whilst listening to him. he would also put an arm around your shoulders to keep you warm and close to him 🥺

as time passes by, it was getting late. you felt really safe around dream, especially if you were in his embrace

your eyelids grew heavier each time you tried fighting it off and focus on dream's voice, which leads to you unconsciously falling asleep on his chest

after a few seconds talking, dream would realize your sleeping figure in his embrace and OHMYGOD

HE WANTS TO FREAK OUT SO BAD BECAUSE HOW CUTE YOU WERE—

lowkey scared that he might somehow crush you or something because you're the tiny little spoon in the current situation

man, he had to refrain himself from taking a picture of you sleeping in his embrace

and the fact that you felt safe enough to fall asleep in his arms makes him tear up (in a positive way!) 🥺

would slowly move you to a more comfortable position and carefully pull you closer to his chest, making sure that he doesn't wake you up

[hugs you tightly]

ALSO just like any other times, mans would secretly mark the date in his phone's calendar because OHMYGOD????? this date better be stamped on history books

after getting into a slightly more comfortable position, dream would just adore you— even only from looking at you, his serotonin level will always go 📈📈

would 100% whisper i love you's or other sweet words while looking at you

mans just smiling to himself, thinking about how much he loves you and adores you— and how lucky he is to have you in his embrace 🥺💞

after some time, he would start to drift away too and ending up sleeping while hugging you tightly in his arms 🥺

— GEORGE

the two of you were sleepyheads

like at the weekends? both you and george would just lazily lay on the bed and fall asleep together regardless what time it was

even at noon? NAP TIME

and today was one of those lazy days

you were laying your head on his lap, which leads to him to his habit of playing with your hair while joking around with you and talk about random things

he just absolutely adores your fluffy hair 🥺

he'd also learn how to braid hairs from youtube just so he could braid yours 🥺

AND SURPRISINGLY HE'S SO GOOD AT BRAIDING HAIRS 💞💞

the way he caressed your head was so comforting, which leads you to feel sleepy. you still wanted to talk with george so you tried fighting off the sleepiness but ended up falling asleep anyways

after not hearing a respond from you, he realized you fell asleep.

WAIT, YOU FELL ASLEEP ON HIS LAP AND THE WAY YOU LOOKED SO ADORABLE SHOULD BE ILLEGAL—

a blush crept up on his cheeks as he looked at your sleeping figure on his lap

ohmygod he absolutely adores this and 100% would plan more sleepy days with you just to see you fall alseep on his lap again

george would admire you shyly, his fingers still softly caressing your hair while making sure not to do it too hard since he doesn't want to wake you up 🥺

he looks at you > gets shy from how adorable you are and how much he loves you > look away > missing looking at you > back to the first step (put this cycle on repeat)

GOSH he just wants to pull you close to his embrace now but that's not possible to do since he doesn't want to wake you up ;(

as he secretly admires you, he would slowly feel sleepy too but he doesn't want to move you away from his lap

so this man right here decided to just sleep in a sitting position which he didn't mind too much since he could still lean his back on the stacked pillows

come on— he doesn't wanna ruin this adorable moment :( it's worth the back pain according to him 👍

and so with that, the two of you fell alseep peacefully 🥺💞

— SAPNAP

mans a whole ass tease @ you

mf would browse through hundreds of websites and collect the cheesiest jokes he can find to use them on you later 😳

also won't stop clinging on you for 24/7 but you don't mind since he's so adorable 🥺💞

and today was just the same like any other days, he clung on you and begged you to cuddle with him

how can you refuse such a sweet offer????

so here you are now laying on the bed with his arms around your shoulders, holding you close to him

the two of you would just joke and laugh at many things, just havin' a wholesome fun time 🥺

don't forget the fluffy blankets around the two of you (you adore soft blankets so sapnap bought you at least 3 blankets and you absolutely loved all three of them 🥺)

until at one point everything felt so comfortable that you didn't even realize you were drifting yourself to sleep

and the moment sapnap realized you fell asleep sweetly in his embrace?

[!(-?#?2@&&????? SCREAMS???? —NO, MAKE THE SCREAM SILENT SO IT WON'T WAKE YOU UP]

he can't help but let out a soft chuckle when saw your sleeping figure

oh man, he was gripping on the pillow tightly so that he doesn't lose control and pull you closer to him which could wake you up

100% gonna make you cuddle with him everyday until you fall asleep on him (mans just making it a routine now)

he would also have to refrain himself from squishing your cheeks while looking at you in awe 🥺💞

even though he's growing sleepy too, he won't give in so easily

like— hello??? a cutie pie just fell asleep in my arms, sleep can wait 🖐🖐

but then eventually he'll fall asleep anyways, but he swore he tried his best keeping his eyelids up and that's sweet 🥺

((would 100% unconsciously pull you closer and just hug you tightly in his sleep ♡))

— QUACKITY

we all know how much alex LOVES driving and mans really good at it (he knows what he's doing fellas)

especially with you 😳😳

the two of you would blast banger songs together while enjoying the road and the pretty view from the window 🥺

it was one of those afternoons again where the two of you went for a stroll with his car

both you and alex planned on only going for a short stroll, but ended up strolling around for almost 3 hours now

but neither of you cared, alex loves spending lots of time with you and same goes with you 🥺💞

the two of you wanted to get some fresh air for a bit after such a long drive, so you stopped by at the nearest field before driving back home

and man, the view was indeed beautiful

the two of you had moved to the back seat so he can get closer to you

as the two of you talked while watching the sun setting down, you started feeling a little bit sleepy

you shrugged it off at first and continued to talk with alex, but then you couldn't help but fall asleep with your head leaned on his shoulders eventually

and when he realized you has fallen asleep on his shoulders?

OH MY— HIS HEART WENT BRRRRRR BECAUSE OF HOW CUTE YOU ARE

definitely will plan on doing this in the furture but at home so he can just adore your sleeping figure for as long as he wants to

he has to drive back home but this moment is very important so he chose to stay there for at least the next 1 more hour 🥺💞

he just wants to kiss you on the forehead so bad but he's scared that he might wake you up :[

but then again, it was getting really late and he has to drive the two of you back home so he would carefully make you lay down on the back seat and he would put his jacket underneath your head as a pillow 🥺💞

and when the two of you arrived back home, he would carefully carry you back in and just cuddle you up for the rest of the night until he falls asleep too ♡

— KARL

karl jacobs has 2 moods : the wholesome mood and the cursed mood, no in betweens

he can either be very wholesome and send you the cutest hamster pics ever or just send you cursed, unexplainable images like macaronis boiled in gatorade

but even though he's in the cursed mood, his clinginess for you will stay the same ♡ (which you absolutely loved)

you loved both of his moods anyways since it's sweet and funny 🥺💞

today, he was feeling extra wholesome so he would just chill with you on the sofa in your matching frog hoodies and your head on his lap

((yes, he bought matching frog hoodies with you at christmas to wear them together 🥺👉👈))

the two of you would be watching cartoons, especially adventure time!! (it's superior cartoon, you can't change my mind)

then as time passes by, you felt your eyelids grew heavy but you tried fighting it back

yeah, you ended up falling asleep at the end 😔

karl noticed how you grew silent and when he checked on you only to see you sleeping on his lap?

yeah karl's never gonna leave his seat, 100%

mans just smiling to himself from looking at how cute you are in your oversized frog hoodie, asleep on his lap 🥺

GOSH this better happen frequently in the future because if not? he'll commit ARSON

he would try softly play with your hair, making sure his touches were soft so he doesn't wake you up

the cartoon is now long forgotten, his focus is just full on the sweetheart sleeping on his lap 🥺💞

he would constantly check on you and pull the blanket back up to your body if it moves back down, and make sure that he doesn't shift his legs too much because it might wake you up :(

will also try his best to not fall asleep because MAN, HE CAN'T JUST SKIP THIS HISTORICAL MOMENT

but he fell asleep anyways after holding back for around 40 minutes, which is impressive 😳

just like george, he doesn't mind falling asleep in a sitting position 👍 backpain = worth it

[watchmegetobsessed]

SIT ON ME

a/n: heavily inspired of the time when a girl actually asked him the question i used in this fic lmao. also maybe a part 2 might be good for this? let me know if you’re interested in one!

pairing: Sebastian Stan X Assistant!Reader

word count: 1.5k

masterlist

Fixing the collar of his shirt one last time you pat on his hard chest, breathing out shortly as your eyes flicker up to meet his icy blue gaze that was already examining you.

“Just try to… not say anything stupid, okay?” you tell him, hopeful that he will take you seriously just once, though in the back of your mind you already know it goes in one ear and slips out the other usually.

Sebastian nods, a small, coy smile tugging on his lips as you fold your arms on your chest, checking the time on the clock on the wall across you, only minutes until they are going on stage. It’s another day, another panel, you have no idea what the event is called anymore, you lost track of even which city you are at right now. You’ve been on the road for weeks now, going from one hotel to the other, jumping from events to appearances, trying not to lose your head, because if you do, that means Sebastian’s head is lost too. Being a personal assistant means that you’re responsible for two people at the same time, you can’t afford falling apart.

“Five minutes, everyone!” a man shouts as he runs down the hallway and Mackie drops a joke about him, but you don’t really catch it, because Seb’s hand touches your waist as the two of you wait patiently for the start.

“Can I get a good luck kiss?” he smirks down at you, leaning closer to your ear so no one can hear him, only you. His hot breath tickles your skin and you try to hide your pleasant shudder at his closeness.

You can’t push the smile down that tugs on your lips as you peek up at him, that boyish glimmer in his eyes never fails to stun you. He is such a beautiful person, inside and out and it’s hard to resist his charm when all he does is trying to wrap you around his finger. He knows the effect he has on you and he doesn’t hesitate to use it. The relationship between the two of you has been a bit blurred these past months, you both could feel the shift when after his last birthday, drunken and totally worn off from his party, the two of you ended up sleeping in the same bed, tangled in each other. You stayed completely clothed, yet the intimacy was burning and the flame hasn’t really disappeared since then.

However you haven’t let it go farther yet, trying to maintain the slightest bit of professionalism in the midst of the madness your job is, though Sebastian doesn’t seem to care about that at all. It’s been a cat and mouse game ever since that night.

Reaching up you cup his jaw in your hand and pulling him closer you can see the surprise in his eyes when he thinks you’re about to kiss him, but then you turn his head and your lips end up on his stubbled cheek, an airy chuckle leaving his lips.

“I think you missed it,” he slyly smirks down at you, but you just roll your eyes.

“Behave, Stan,” you warn him.

The remainder of the time flies by fast and the boys walk out to the stage to the cheering crowd, taking their places, ready to answer any and every questions thrown in their way.

You watch from the sidelines, laughing with the audience every time Mackie cracks a joke, or when Sebastian gives a funny answer, you feel like one of those fans sitting in front of them, you totally understand why they are so obsessed with them. It’s hard not to love them, they are just amazing people.

“Alright, let’s see the next question!” the lady on the stage announces, turning to the girl who has the mic this time.

“Hi! I’m so happy to be here and see you guys!” the girl beams, making the men on the stage smile gratefully.

“We’re happy you’re here too!” Sebastian answers her, definitely making her blush at the sweet response.

“So my question is…” she starts, taking a deep breath. “Sebastian, this is for you. If you were a chair, who would you want to sit on you?”

The question makes the whole room erupt in laughter and you can’t hold back yours either. You can tell Seb is shocked at the blunt and quite dirty question, but you also know that he is definitely gonna answer it, no matter how inappropriate it’s going to be.

“Wow,” he chuckles into the mic, while he is trying to keep his act together, Mackie on his left is fighting back tears at this point. “What an… interesting question,” he huffs, making everyone laugh again. “Um… Okay, if I was a chair, I would want…”

His eyes wander over the crowd until they find you at the side, your gazes melting together for a split second and you already know what his answer is gonna be, just from the way the tiny wrinkles around his eyes appear. And there’s nothing you can do against it.

“I would want my assistant to sit on me,” he answers, a round of howling and screaming washing over the room as you cover your face with your hands in embarrassment. Did he really just say that? In front of all these people?

When you glance up next time, you catch his eyes again, that smug and pleased look in his face is almost annoying, knowing how much he is enjoying putting you into this situation.

“I’m going to kill you,” you mouth to him, but he just chuckles.

“Damn, Sebastian,” Mackie huffs. “You ain’t playing anymore!”

“No, no, it’s all just fun,” he explains. “I just like to tease my assistant, don’t take it seriously,” he adds, trying to save the situation, though it’s useless. His answer has been captured on hundreds of cameras and it’ll be all over the internet in a matter of time.

The conversation on stage carries on and you patiently wait for it to be over so you can murder Sebastian yourself. When they finally say goodbye and head off the stage you’re waiting for them already, trying to look serious and a bit mad about the stunt Sebastian pulled, but when his gaze meets yours you simply can’t keep up the act. You are so soft for this man, he could do about anything and you wouldn’t stay mad at him at all.

“Uh-oh, you are thinking about killing me,” he smirks, not even an ounce of regret or shame for himself present in his voice.

“I am, yeah,” you nod, arms folded on your chest as he stands in front of you, biting into his bottom lip as he cocks his head to the side.

“What can I do to earn your forgiveness?” he asks in a dramatic tone, before his hands find your upper arms, pulling you closer until your front meets his chest and he can wrap you into his embrace.

“Stop being such a flirt,” you prompt, raising your eyebrows at him.

“Oh, I don’t think I can do that, sorry.”

��Of course,” you roll your eyes at him.

When everything is said and done and you can head home, you and Sebastian make your way out, only to face the huge crowd that gathered around the building just to see a glimpse of their favorites. The car pulls up to the entrance and you follow Seb out through the crowd that’s being held back with two rows of security guards, but you need to be fast, because they are starting to lose their shit. Sebastian gets into the car and someone pushes you from behind when you are about to follow him, making you fall and end up on his lap in the car, the door shutting behind you as the driver leaves immediately.

“Shit,” you breathe out, holding onto his shoulders for leverage and his strong arms wrap around you as an instinct, catching you from falling further. A second passes and he smirks at you, arching an eyebrow at you.

“See? You did end up sitting on me,” he smugly points out and you just shake your head laughing as you climb off of him, sitting next to him on the backseat.

“If only we had HR, you’d be in so much trouble,” you warn him, though you can’t keep a straight face as you point a finger at him that he just easily grabs and pulling your hand to his lips he kisses your knuckles with a smug grin on his lips.

“Good thing it’s just you and I then,” he shrugs, keeping your hand in his hold in his lap and you don’t even try to pull it back, you just huff amused, sliding down in your seat, leaning against his arm, your head coming to rest on his shoulder. Sebastian hums contented, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head as you both ignore the elephant in the room and pretend like you can go like this forever.

But deep down you know you can’t.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[mrshipsmcgee]

Found: Part Two

tasm!Peter Parker

SERIES NAVIGATION

part one part three part four

Warnings: 18+, mentions of loss of a baby, mentions of domestic abuse, mentions of stalking, fluffy uncle!Peter

Summary: Peter and Rose take the grocery store and run into an old friend.

Found Playlist

—

It had been one week since fate brought Peter Parker to baby Rose - alone in her family’s apartment days after the Blip. Peter still hadn’t gone back into the laundry room, trying to respect the dead in some strange way by not opening the door. Though, deep down Peter knew the truth - once he acknowledged the dust on the floor of the laundry room he would have to acknowledge him needing to report Rose as missing.

He thought of all of the new stories he had been seeing about group homes being overcrowded - hearing awful rumors on Reddit that orphanages were selling children into sex trafficking. He couldn’t let that happen to this innocent baby. It was up to Peter to protect her now.

She would run up and hug his legs and demand to be held and snuggled, or tossed in the air a few times - loud cackles coming from her tiny body as he’d catch her and blow raspberries on her cheek. He loved to make her laugh, convinced that he would never hear a sweeter sound.

He didn’t want to have to give her up now. He couldn’t. He could figure it out just like May and Ben did. But would her family come looking for her?

Peter’s thoughts seem to be just as loud as Rose’s screams - fighting sleep in Peter’s arms as he stands, rubbing her back as he twists his torso to rock her back and forth. “Please, Rosey - it’s midnight. You’ve got to sleep at some point.”

She palms her wet face - burning hot from crying so hard; or from how warm-blooded Peter is. Peter blows her curls out of her eyes, her eyes closing from the sensation. “Oh-,” Peter hums, thinking of what May used to do whenever he struggled to sleep.

He remembered her always singing one song, Billy Joel’s Lullabye. “Well, it worked for me - here goes nothing,” he cleared his throat.

Peter’s rocking slowed as the song played out in his head, beginning to sing the words, his heart fluttering as he’d wonder why looking at Rose made him want to cry. He sang every word to her, remembering when May would sing this to him, her voice always so beautiful as she’d brush his hair from his eyes.

Rose’s hazel eyes seemed to pierce Peter’s heart, making him feel a deep ache - somehow feeling a bit like longing coming from his gut. Something primal. Instinct. Belonging?

He continued to sing, brushing his calloused thumb over her soft forehead to move curls from her tired eyes. She palmed her wet face, breath hitting as Peter continues to sing to her - steadily rocking her as he approached the crib. Her long eyelashes flutter as she starts to drift off in his arms.

“Goodnight, my angel - now it's time to dream. And dream how wonderful your life will be. Someday your child may cry, and if you sing this lullaby then in your heart there will always be a part of me.” He sang in a low whisper as tears started to brim. He thought of May, her kind smile - he could still feel her soft hands cup his cheeks as hot tears started to fall, “Someday we'll all be gone, but lullabies go on and on. They never die. That's how you and I will be.”

He shut his eyes for a moment, trying to collect himself so he didn’t wake Rose. Peter felt like the same scared boy he was - or maybe still is, wanting nothing more than for his Aunt May to cuddle all of his fears away. She would keep him safe. She would have known what to do - but she would have made Peter try to figure it out for himself first.

Peter opened his eyes, seeing Rose fast asleep. He lowered her into the crib as if she were made of porcelain - holding his breath until her body was securely on the tiny mattress underneath her. He exhaled slowly, silently as possible as he tiptoed out of the room, cracking the door behind him as he made his way into the living room - crashing on the sofa for the seventh night in a row.

-

“I can’t believe we ran out of baby food!” Peter whispered to Rose, strapped into a baby carrier wrapped around Peter’s torso. He pushed the cart down the grocery store isle as muffled music played in the background. “Where, oh where is the baby isle,” Peter started to hum along to the music as he searched the store.

“Finally,” he sighs, rounding the corner of the isle - only to run his half full cart into another cart. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” He quickly checks on Rose before looking up and making direct eye contact with a the woman behind the cart, equally apologizing to him, “I’m so sorry, I guess I’m just a woman on a mission today. Is she okay?” The woman asked as she looked to Rose.

Peter smiled as he watched the beautiful stranger smile and wave at Rose, talking to her and complimenting her outfit. “Did your Daddy dress you up so pretty?”

Peter’s heart seemed to flutter at the words.

The woman’s gaze met Peter’s - both of their brows furrowing as they look to the other. She seemed to study Peter’s face for a moment before she covered her mouth. Peter’s head twitched to the side, “Is everything okay, ma’am?”

She lowered her hand, her beautiful face full of emotion as she spoke, “Peter? Peter Parker, is that you?”

Peter stood in silence, feeling a strange sense of nostalgia as he studied her face in better detail. He let out a small and confused, “Yes?”

“It is you..” she whispered, a look of longing on her face as she stared into Peter’s eyes before she pulled herself from her thoughts - shaking her head. “I’m sorry - you probably think that I’m crazy, Pete. We haven’t seen each other since we were like - I don’t know, twelve?” Her voice was warm as she spoke. “It’s okay if you don’t remember me, it’s been so long now since we’ve seen each other.”

Peter blinked, beginning to remember a spunky little girl that he used to play with at May’s house, his friend he was inseparable from - always playing make believe games and sticking up for one another against bullies. He remembers her parents going through a nasty divorce and having to move to Florida - it happened so quickly.

He remembers thinking of her often over the years - unable to recall her name, wondering what ever happened with his childhood friend. Wondering if she even existed in the first place.

He would dream of her eyes over the years, her face against the summer sun, seeming to illuminate his world - maybe she was his first crush and his best friend? His memories of her were hazy after so many concussions.

“I thought I made you up in my head,” Peter whispered, feeling a flood of emotions as he looked at her. “You- you’re all grown up.” He could feel a burning in his stomach as he looked at the woman. Nerves?

She giggled, pointing at Rose, “Says the scruffy, fully grown man with a cute baby.” Peter chuckles at her words before he says, “Well, that’s a long story.” She sighs, nodding, “I understand long stories, believe me.”

Peter and his friend smile at each other in silence before Rose lets out a small cry. Peter stammers, “I’m sorry - she’s hungry. We’re gonna have to run.”

“Oh, that is fine, I’m sure all of our frozen food is melting,” the woman says, starting to pull her cart from Peter’s. She turned before walking away, smirking at Peter as she said, “It was so nice to see you again. Hopefully we can run into each other again soon, Petey.”

Petey.

He remembers the rain was pouring down as she threw her arms around Peter - embracing him as they both cried on the front porch at Ben and May’s house. “I don’t want to leave you, Petey. Please don’t let them take me all the way to Florida-,” her broken sobs were muffled into Peter’s neck. “I don’t think I can do anything without you beside me.”

Peter remembers holding up his pinky to her, hot tears streaming down his face as he whispers - his voice cracking, “I pinky promise you that one day we will see each other again. And I pinky promise that I will be there with you wherever you go. You may not be able to see me - but I will be there.”

Memories started rushing back as Peter swallowed his emotion, clearing his throat to speak and stopping her dead in her tracks.

“Hey,” Peter said with a smile, “I don’t mean to be too forward, but would you like to catch up over dinner?” She bit her bottom lip as she smiled, “You tell me when and where, Parker - you know I’ll be there.”

Peter felt bold in this moment looking at his beautiful friend, “Well - lately I feel like there’s no time like the present. So what about this evening? Rose and I can cook you whatever you want. If that’s too-.”

“-That’s not too anything, Pete. I would absolutely love to see what Chef Rose and her Daddy cook up for me!” She says, making a silly face at Rose before looking up at Peter. “Just let me know when and where!”

She held her phone in her hand, “I’m ready when you are.” Peter shared the address, telling her to arrive at six for dinner and drinks. “See you there?”

“Looking forward to it,” Peter smiles, watching his old friend walk away before looking down at Rose. “Well, that just happened - let’s get checked out and get you home, Rosey girl.”

-

It was five minutes til six when a knock came from the door of Rose’s family’s apartment. The smell of spaghetti filled the room as Rose’s favorite movie played on the television. Peter looked over at Rose and smiled widely, remembering that he had dressed her in his favorite outfit of hers. “C’mere, Rose,” he says with a grunt as he plops her onto his hip, brushing hair from her beautiful eyes as they walk over to the door. “You look good, kid. How do I look?”

He poked his lips out, squinting his eyes in his best attempt at Flynn Ryder’s “smolder.” Rose giggles, scrunching her nose at him.

Peter opens the door to see his friend standing in front of him with what looked to be a cake in her hands. “Hi!” Peter says with a smile, getting Rose to wave at his friend. Rose giggles, opening her arms out to the woman, “Oh - I think she wants for us to switch!”

“Oh!” The woman smiled, “Trade me?” She shrugged, holding the cake in her hands. Peter gave her a silly smile as he began handing her the baby, “Oh - gladly. This is a fair trade, don’t you think?”

She held Rose in her arms, chest to chest as she rocked her back and forth. Rose snuggling into her chest as the woman held her. Peter’s friend shut her eyes, seeming to cling to Rose.

“Oh yeah, I will gladly take baby snuggles over cake,” Peter’s friend whispered before looking back up to Peter. “It smells delicious in here, Peter!”

Peter felt a pull at his gut, feeling ashamed of not remembering his friend’s name. He cleared his throat, speaking like word vomit, “So - I’m ashamed to say I can’t remember your name. I’ve had a lot of hits to the head over the years and it’s made my memory terrible. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, it’s fine - I promise,” she shrugged, putting Rose onto her hip. “So - my name is actually a long story because I no longer go by my birth name, which is another long story. You remember me as Mary - but I’ve taken on a new persona as of late and I go by MJ now.”

Peter froze, breath hitching in his throat and palms growing sweaty. He can’t find any words, he just stares at his beautiful friend holding his beautiful baby. He was in awe.

“Peter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she steps closer to him, grabbing the cake pan from him and sitting it on the kitchen table before turning back for Peter. Her free hand’s fingertips wrap around Peter’s clammy hand. Her voice was soft and kind as she spoke, “Let’s get you sat down, honey.”

Shockwaves shot out through Peter’s body, seeming to come from where her fingers intertwined with his. Her hand was so small in his. Touching her gave Peter goosebumps. He didn’t want her to let him go.

He watched her, brown eyes studying her beautiful hair and stunning face as she sat him down on the couch. Peter was stunned that someone so beautiful was fated to him, always with him. She had been hidden in the back of his most cherished memories for so long now he had convinced himself she was an imaginary friend.

But here she was - his long lost imaginary friend - standing in front of him, holding Rose on her hip so naturally as she dropped his hand to check his forehead. “When’s the last time you’ve eaten today, Peter Benjamin?”

Peter shook his head, blinking wildly trying to compose himself, “I- I- I’m okay, I’m sorry. I just - I felt a little dizzy. You just - you look so beautiful it took my breath away.” His doe eyes look up to her, seeing her blushing with a smirk. “Thank you for sitting me down MJ.”

-

It had grown late, Rose had been asleep for an hour now, the small bit of leftover spaghetti still sat in a pot on the table where Peter and MJ sat drinking wine and chatting about everything. They chatted about their childhood, recalling fond memories and moments of growth they had experienced together - “Do you remember whenever you punched Drew McCall in the face because he said I had bird legs?” Peter asked with a cackle. MJ laughed, holding her belly as she leaned back into her chair, “And my Mom made me call and apologize to him. I remember I told her that he had what was coming to him for messing with my best friend.”

Peter and MJ laughed, taking sips of their wine before the air seemed to shift to a more serious tone. “So, it really is just you and Rose, huh?” MJ asked, “I could have sworn you would have been married by now - you’ve always been such a catch, Peter. I’m actually shocked that there isn’t a Mrs. Parker yet!”

Peter looked down to his fidgeting hands, “Well, Rose isn’t my baby.”

MJ sat down her drink, “What?”

“I - I don’t know who’s baby she is..” Peter continued. “I found her crying in here three days after the Blip. I know it’s not right, but that’s why I haven’t taken her back to my place yet - I was hoping a family member would come looking for her,” he said, the last sentence stinging. He knew it was a lie. “I just - I - I know this sounds terrible, but I just can’t let her go yet.”

MJ places her soft hand onto Peter’s, her eyes sad as she speaks, “Life has been hard since the Blip. I’ve heard about the overcrowded orphanages, Peter.. you aren’t hurting her. You’re just trying to protect her. It’s okay.” She watches as Peter continues to stare at his hands, “Peter, you are a good man - you have a good soul. It’s golden. And I’ve seen how she acts and looks at you, she loves you. You hold onto that sweet baby girl until you can’t anymore.” Her voice breaks before clearing it and sitting back into her chair.

Peter finally looks up to MJ, his heart breaking seeing her sad eyes staring back at him. “Thank you,” he whispers as a tear starts to fall down his cheeks. “I’m sorry for dropping that on you.”

“Well, if anyone understands, it’s me,” she whispers, followed by a gulp. “It’s okay, Peter.”

Her demeanor had changed. Peter noticed her heartbeat had changed as well, growing faster with every passing moment.

Something was wrong.

“Do you want to talk about anything, MJ?” Peter asked, adjusting his large hand to envelop hers on the kitchen table. “I know it’s been a while, but you need to know you can and always will be able to tell me absolutely anything.”

She gulped again, blinking back tears as she cleared her throat before taking another sip of wine. “It’s a long story, Peter,” she whispers through glossy eyes.

“You don’t have to share if you aren’t comfortable. That’s okay,” he locks eyes with her, feeling butterflies in his stomach as he spoke. “Just know that I’m here for you whenever you want to talk about it, okay?”

“I came to New York to disappear,” she whispered, her voice so small - so sad and scared. “I - I was in a pretty toxic relationship and I ran.”

Peter’s heart picked up speed, “Toxic like a fuck boy.”

MJ stared at the table, “No - not a fuck boy. I actually wished John fell into the description of fuck boy. John is - well, John is.. he’s John.” She paused, “I’m just being rude.”

“What do you mean, MJ?” Peter asked, leaning towards her.

She gulped, eyes fluttering back tears as she spoke, “I met John when I was still living in Florida. I was working at Barnes and Noble and it felt like love at first sight. He was handsome and knew how to handle money, and he swept me off my feet. He made me feel pretty and sexy.” Her eyes began to swell with tears. “But things changed and he changed.”

“How?” Peter’s voice was low.

“Well, it happens slowly. I promise it happens slowly, Peter - so please don’t think of me differently,” she was wiping tears, “He - he…”

“MJ,” Peter whispered, looking her in the eyes shaking his head slowly. “We don’t have to talk about this right now if it is making you uncomfortable. I don’t want you to ever feel uncomfortable whenever you are around me. If it needs to wait, it can wait. I want to be a place of peace for you.”

“No, Peter - you should know,” she whispers. Closing her eyes to collect herself before speaking again.

“John asked me to move in with him about two weeks into our relationship, saying he couldn’t stand to be without me. About a month into me living with him he - he asked me to quit at Barnes and Noble, saying he made plenty enough already. And he said he wanted to take care of all of my monthly payments.. Which I thought endearing at the time,” she explained. “He told me he wanted to take care of me, but I figured him out eventually.”

Peter’s hand hadn’t left hers as she continued to speak, trying to show her small support through his protective grip.

“One day I looked around, seeing myself in three day old pajamas with cum stains on them. I knew what I had become. I tried to leave, but realized that he sold my car months ago claiming he didn’t need the added expense given I don’t work anymore,” she gulped. “I had nothing to my name anymore. I had nothing to claim as my own. I turned into nothingness. I became nothingness.”

They both sat in silence as MJ took another sip of her wine, “And I realized that I had given myself up for this man. I had lost who I was. But here’s the kicker, Petey.. when I tried to leave he got violent. He hit me in the face and told me I was a worthless piece of shit, telling me all I was nothing. I believed him, Peter.”

Peter’s heart dropped into his stomach, eyes fluttering to hide his rage - swallowing it back inside to let MJ continue to tell her story uninterrupted.

“John would tell me he deserved to cum when he wanted.. that if I wanted to have sex with him or not simply didn’t matter because he put a roof over my head. He broke me down, Peter,” MJ cried, looking to Peter. “I wasn’t strong anymore when it came to John. He told me all I was good for was a fuck and a meal - that’s it. And that was told to me on repeat for a year until I believed it and became it.”

Peter couldn’t help but to let the tears fall from his cheeks as MJ’s soft voice spoke. He was angry seeing her so upset. He wiped the tears from his scruffy face before cleared his throat.

“And then one day I realized I hadn’t had my period in two months - and - and…” she looked up into Peter’s eyes, still looking so beautiful while she cried. “And I knew - so I went a grabbed a few tests just to confirm it. And I was right.” MJ blinked, intertwining fingers with Peter.

He gulped, stomach turning in knots as their hands united.

“So I ran,” she whispered. “I got on a greyhound with a bag full of clothes, a $100 dollar bill and a baby in my stomach.. a baby that I knew didn’t deserve to be around John and his manipulation tactics. I didn’t want my baby girl to see her Momma with a black eye or a busted lip.. or worse, so I ran. I ran home to New York where I could disappear. And I had my baby girl - my sweet Evangeline - which means good. And we moved in to a shitty apartment underneath a sub-shop.”

Peter watched as MJ stopped speaking, biting her lip as she buried her face in her hand as she sobbed. He scooted his chair closer to hers, shoulder to shoulder with her as her chest heaved. He sat in solidarity beside her, his hand holding hers as he held back tears.

“My sweet, good, perfect Evangeline turned to dust in my arms while I was feeding her,” MJ choked out. “I held her until she was nothing in my arms. And then I just sat there for hours - so in shock. My baby - my Evie baby just gone.”

“Oh, MJ,” is all Peter could muster up to whisper. Catching MJ as she falls into Peter’s strong arms as she cries. Peter couldn’t hold back tears, sobbing as he held MJ close to his chest. “I’ve been alone since then.” She whispered through sobs, muffled into his neck.

“I am completely and utterly alone,” she said, craning her neck up to look at Peter. “And I swear - I know I sound crazy, Peter - but I swear I keep seeing John everywhere I go, I think I’m going crazy.”

“Do you see him here?” Peter asks, adjusting his arms to better hold MJ’s tired body as she shook her head, ‘no.’ “Good,” he whispers. “Know that whenever you’re with me you’re safe from that dickhead, MJ. I promise. I will protect you.”

She sniffled, wiping tears away as she tried to give Peter a weak smile, “I’m so sorry, Petey.” She started to sob again, holding herself in her own arms as her back shook through the tears.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Peter sat up straighter, pulling her into his chest. “Why are you apologizing? MJ, there is no need to apologize to me. You have done nothing wrong.”

“I’m so embarrassed, Peter - for unloading all of my shit on you. And I’m embarrassed because I couldn’t keep my Evangeline safe,” she continued to cry. “John was right, I am a failure - I’m just a worthless piece of shit. He would laugh at me now, knowing I couldn’t protect her - he would get a rise out of knowing I lost my apartment within a few days because my landlords blipped.”

Peter places a hand on the table, protectively cocooning himself around MJ as he whispers, “You were Evangeline’s greatest protector, MJ. And I know that she knew that too. And wherever she is now, wether it’s heaven or the great beyond - she knows. She sees her beautiful, loving mommy. She knows that you protected her with her life,” crocodile tears fell from Peter’s eyes as he cried, looking into MJ’s eyes. “You are not a failure, you are not nothingness - you are my MJ, my long lost childhood best friend home at last - blessing me with her presence. Evangeline is still with you because matter cannot be created nor destroyed. So I know she’s here with us even now.”

She sniffled as Peter scooping hair behind her ear, continuing to speak to her in a low whisper, “You make my Rose happy, and you make her giggle. You are good, MJ. You are a good person, I can feel it. I have known you my entire life. Don’t listen to that douchebag’s voice in your head - he’s a damn liar.”

MJ giggled at Peter’s words, rolling her glossy eyes before looking up to him once more and locking eyes with him, “Thank you, Peter. Fate really seemed to bring us together at the perfect time. I think I needed this.”

“I do, too - look…” he sits up, backing away from MJ to give her space before he continues to speak. “I really need to go back to work and need to pay someone to watch Rose while I’m away. But the kicker is I work the night shift. Would you be willing to make a little extra cash to sleep in the master bedroom and take care of Rose at night? No strings attached?”

She hesitates, looking away from Peter as she fidgets with her outfit.

“I- I’m so sorry, MJ - I didn’t mean to cross a line,” he apologizes, scooting his chair away from hers before he’s stopped by her hand on his thigh. “No, Peter - I would love that. You don’t even have to pay me. I just really would love a bed to sleep on..” her hands remains on his thigh. “I promise to take care of Rose as if she were my Evangeline. I promise, Peter. I’ll cook - I’m a great cook. I promise I will be the best-.”

Peter stops her, placing his warm hand on hers - greeting her eyes with his kind gaze, “No. Strings. Attached. You don’t have to cook - I will cook. I’m decent, you’ve seen it tonight. I just simply need someone to feed her and change her if she needs it.. other than that your job is to sleep in that gigantic bed in the master bedroom.”

MJ and Peter sat only inches away from each other now, eye to eye as she nodded at him with a big smile. “I dropped my bag at your door, it’s literally right there in the hall. It’s all I have, so I won’t bother you too much with laundry and such - let me go grab it.”

Before she stood Peter spoke, his insides seeming to burn with sadness as he looked up to MJ, “A bag is all you have?”

“They threw away what I couldn’t take this time last week, it happened very fast. But don’t worry, Petey.. I grabbed the important stuff, like Evie’s hospital things and a few pieces of clothes - toothpaste and such,” she smiled contently, grabbing her bag from the hallway before coming back inside.

Peter’s heart sank seeing the small duffle bag she had, knowing her entire life was inside of it. He couldn’t stand to think of what all she had been exposed to in such a short amount of time. Peter wanted nothing more than to beat John into a pulp, and then to wrap MJ up in his arms and tell her she was entirely safe and never going to hurt again. Not as long as he was around.

“Thank you - really, Peter. This - this is, it’s so sweet of you to do this,” she said as Peter stood from his chair. “No, thank you, MJ,” he said, giving her a downturned smile. “I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through. I hate that you’ve been through it.”

MJ swallowed back fresh tears as she smiled at Peter, only being able to mouth ‘thank you” as tears fell to the floor. She threw her arms around Peter’s neck, crying as she whispers, “I don’t have to do anything without you anymore.”

Peter thought of those two preteens crying in a warm embrace during a thunder storm on that fateful Tuesday all those years ago, wishing to never be separate from the other. He wishes he could tell them what would happen one day.

Peter and MJ stood in a warm embrace, crying as they held each other, knowing that things were finally going to be okay again.

Right, dear reader?

-

Sorry for any emotional damage I may have caused. My b.

Please please please, tell me what you think in any way!! I crave your validation - especially because I’m so excited about this fic. <3

Let me know if you would like to be tagged in the next part!

- Cait <3

———

Found Tag List: @withahappyrefrain @abibliophobiaa @ouralcohol @bbrs-princess @lilacvine @holyheadharpies99 @strange-person16 @xbamboowishesx @liz-allyn

Tag List: @rose-writes-shit @xuxialling @itwasallinmyhead1 @mypalbuck @angelcritterz @levylovegood @gwenebear @saltedcoffeescotch @thelittlebirdwriter @mbjackie @kiwi5335 @nikkitc0703 @laurathefahrradsattel @lizabethmenke @cheeseman @blooming-violets @andrewgarfieldsloml @s0upisgood @spidermansdeadgf @haileymorelikestupid

Special Tag: @agnesamarantheastwood

Please please please, like, reblog, comment - let me know your fav parts. Hopefully it isn’t too angsty and sad :( </3

[snackhobi]

pairing: taehyung x reader / word count: 13.3k / genre: fluff, friends to lovers, smut (NSFW, 18+)

summary: you’re used to being in love with taehyung. you’ve had a lot of time to get good at it, after all—by this point you’re the world’s expert at keeping your less-than-platonic feelings hidden from him, what with the amount of practice you’ve had.

but then he signs up for a massage therapy course, because apparently you can never catch a break.

or: the one where taehyung gives you a full body massage and then some.

warnings: sexually explicit content, massage with a happy ending (literally 🤧), cursing, edible massage oil/lube, fingering (f), unprotected sex (be safe when you have sex please), multiple orgasms (f), oral sex (m), cum swallowing, pet names, body worship?, brief mention of shower sex

a/n: I swear this was meant to be pwp. this was literally meant to just be pwp with some massage shenanigans. and then I blinked and it had become a soft 13k fic which honestly… kicked my ass quite a bit. but I hope you enjoy it!! thank you as always to @hobi-gif​ for beta reading this and encouraging me and putting up with me changing this multiple times, what would I do without your support miss hope?

--

Taehyung goes through a lot of different phases.

He just finds so many things interesting. Photography, art, art history, music, fashion, thrift shopping; heck, there was even the time he got weirdly into making tea and became some sort of connoisseur, going through the whole rigmarole of buying the loose leaves and weighing them out, checking the temperature of the water, brewing for a precisely measured amount of time.

You still remember the look on his face when you said it all tasted like hot leaf water to you.

Because, of course, as one of Taehyung’s best friends and his roommate, you’re inevitably swept up in everything he does. You’re used to the weirdly acrid smell of photo development fluid and how cold dark rooms can get. You use phrases like chiaroscuro and sfumato to describe the simplest things after listening to Taehyung do the same for so long. You’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve tripped over his saxophone case when he leaves it lying around the apartment. You regularly wear the baggy t-shirt with the face that Taehyung had painted on it—even if you still refer to it as the Squidward-House-Shirt despite the fact you know he was inspired by Basquiet and Schiele and not the Easter Island themed stone head that Squidward lives in.

You don’t mind getting dragged along with whatever he does, honestly; you don’t have time to attend every class, but go with him when you can. It’s always good to expand your horizons. You also love watching Tae’s face whenever he learns something new, the various expressions that flit across his features—from wide eyed excitement and eyebrow raising astonishment to the more solemn side that appears whenever he’s taking something in and thinking deeply about it, turning it over in his mind, mulling on it.

(You love watching Tae’s face all the time, actually, but that’s a whole other can of worms you’d rather keep shut.)

However, the latest course he’s signed up for is not one you’d been expecting.

“Massage therapy?” Your face twists in equal parts confusion and surprise.

Taehyung’s dropped this latest nugget of information while you’re cooking, trying to fry some rice while also peering at the phone screen that’s been thrust into your face. You’re not bad at multitasking, per se, but Taehyung’s iPhone is drifting so close that you’re almost cross-eyed and it’s blocking you from seeing what’s going on in the pan. 

“I had a coupon,” he says, as if that explains everything. (It doesn’t.)

“Scooch,” you say, and he immediately moves so you can turn the gas off.

“Jiminie and Jungkookie say that my massages help with dance, and that's just from Youtube tutorials.” Taehyung continues to talk as you bustle around the tiny kitchen. He’s already set the table so now he’s free to watch you finish doing the rest of the work. “And Joon-hyung says I have the perfect hands for it.”

You fumble with the pan as you’re scooping the steaming rice into a large bowl, only just managing to save food from scattering everywhere. You’ve thought about Taehyung’s hands a lot, about how large and long fingered and beautiful they are, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Really? Huh. That’s nice.” You stare at the pan, fixated on getting every grain of rice so you can avoid looking at Taehyung’s face. And hands. Which are still cupped around his phone. Which looks so small in his big, pretty grip.

Jesus Christ.

“It means I can give you massages if you ever start to get tense.” Taehyung sounds pleased, lovely grin on his face at the prospect of being able to rub his hands over you. As if that isn’t going to make every single one of your muscles lock up and turn you into some sort of coiled rope of a human being, which is the complete opposite of what a massage is supposed to achieve. 

“Great.” Despite your inner turmoil, your voice is level and steady as you meticulously scrape the last grain of rice into the bowl, chasing the tiny fleck of white around the huge pan. Scrape, scrape, scrape. “Sounds fabulous. Can’t wait.”

Of course Taehyung would sign up to learn something that he could use to help his friends. He’s so big-hearted and loving. Big-hearted and loving and kind and funny and affectionate and beautiful and deep-voiced and so entirely overwhelming in every single way imaginable. 

You do what you always do when confronted yet again with your all-consuming crush—you bottle that shit the fuck up until he’s not in the room.

And then you have a miniature breakdown at Pickles.

“I am going to die,” you whisper-scream. “He’s going to offer to massage me and he’s going to get a bottle of massage oil out and he’s going drizzle it onto his massive hands and I am going to fucking die.”

The bearded dragon cocks his head as he stares at you. Taehyung had come home with the reptile one day, tank and all, saying that someone on Facebook had been giving him away because they were moving house and could they just look after him for a little while, please, pretty please? Until they found a good home for him? Please?

That was over a year ago. (You’ve always been bad at saying no to Taehyung.)

“I hate my life,” you lament to the lizard, but then you hear the noisy flush of the toilet and know that Taehyung is going to emerge from the bathroom soon, so you have to wrap this miniature meltdown up pronto. “I wish I was a bearded dragon too, you know. All you do is get fed and sit under the heat bulb. Your life is so easy. You don’t even know what capitalism is.”

The silence you get from Pickles is far more support than you get from your human friends once you tell them. Yoongi just raises his eyebrows while Seokjin and Hoseok laugh outright in your face, just like they always do when you cry to them about Taehyung.

You need new friends. These ones are defective. (If only you’d kept the receipt so you could return them.)

“We learned how to do neck and shoulder massages today!” Taehyung says brightly after the first session.

You hum in response. You’re rewatching Pacific Rim together, cuddled up against Taehyung’s side, and you don’t have to turn your head to know what expression is on his face. There’ll be that little upturn to his lips, happiness at learning something new. That warmth in his eyes at being able to share it with you, even if you couldn't be there with him. Those little freckles on his face, under his eye, his nose, his lip; the one you’ve imagined kissing more times than you can count.

“My teacher says I have a natural talent with my hands,” he adds, and you’re so grateful that you can blame your sudden intake of breath on the scene that’s playing on the screen, as high stakes as it is. 

“That’s nice,” you say, and mentally pat yourself on the back at keeping the strain out of your voice. You've had a lot of practice at this. “I’m not surprised, though. You’ve always been good at doing things with them.”

That’s not a euphemism. Taehyung’s always so careful when he makes things; you’d learned how to fold different origami patterns together, matching crane for crane, lotus for lotus, and he’d always been so delicate with his fingers. He’s always so careful and considerate with you, too, fingers splayed wide across your shoulder as he squeezes you closer to his side, leaving you breathless.

“I wish you could come too.” Taehyung sounds disappointed. “We always have so much fun together.”

For the first time in your life you’re grateful that your manager at Olive Chicken is such a hardass and won’t let you swap shifts, so you’d had to miss signing up for the massage course with Taehyung—because you know there’s no way you’d be able to keep it together if there was some sort of tandem practice in class or whatever. Your crush on him is filled with equal parts of tenderness and lust and you’re well aware of that. You’d rest your hands on the soft skin of Taehyung’s shoulders and back, the lust would overwhelm you, and you’d immediately burst into flames like some sort of demon stepping over the threshold of a church. 

Why oh why did God have to make Kim Taehyung so hot?

Why oh why did God have to make you so… not?

You know Taehyung doesn’t see you in a romantic light at all. You’re grateful for this deep, platonic relationship you have, and you love him to pieces, but holy hell is it hard to walk around with Kim Taehyung looking the way he does and wanting to jump his bones while simultaneously being aware that it’s never going to happen. Whenever he smiles at you, or touches you, or holds you, it’s in exactly the same way as he treats any of his friends—and as happy as you are to be one of those friends, it also kind of kills you inside. 

(Because you know you don’t have a chance, have never had a chance, and will never have a chance.)

The idea of offering to massage Taehyung is one that makes you want to melt into a puddle of horny goo. But when he offers to massage you, it’s because you’re a convenient practice partner who he’s comfortable with. It’s no big deal. You could strip naked and slather yourself up in oil and stand in front of him with your bosoms heaving and say ‘Have at me, big boy’ and Taehyung would say: ‘Sweet! A chance to practice deep tissue massage! Gee, thanks for being such a great pal!’

The kind of deep tissue you want Taehyung to massage is very different to whatever he’s talking about.

… Anyway.

You manage to avoid Taehyung using his apparently magic fingers on you for a surprising amount of time, though you’re kept up to date with his progress, because he shares everything with you and tells you about everything and you always, always listen. Because, more than being your crush, he’s one of your best friends and you love him.

Which is why you try your best to be gentle, graciously refusing his offer of a shoulder massage after he sees you wincing, even if with anyone else you’d just tell them to back off with zero hesitation.

“It’s fine,” you say, flapping a hand at him. “I just slept on it funny.”

“A massage would help! It won’t take long, I promise. Five minutes? Please?” 

Taehyung’s looking at you with those big puppy eyes of his, pleading. You waver. You’re torn between being steadfast and avoiding a situation you’ve literally had nightmares about (Taehyung had offered to massage you, and you’d said yes, but then you’d fallen over as you were walking to him and suddenly a lasagne had appeared in your hands and you’d spilled it all down your shirt and he’d pointed and laughed and laughed and you’d felt so embarrassed that you’d woken up, cheeks burning), but then he pouts and you give in like the spineless and lovesick fool that you are.

“Five minutes,” you say, and Taehyung nods emphatically, looking pleased.

(You have the backbone of a chocolate éclair.)

You send quiet thanks to whatever God is listening when he doesn’t ask you to take your top off and doesn’t break out a bottle of scented oil. Instead he just asks for you to straddle a chair, clutching a plushie against your chest to cushion where it leans against the backrest, and tells you to get comfy.

“Just relax,” he says, as you desperately try to remember how your body works and coax it to relax like Taehyung wants you to. You fail miserably. You feel like a ball of rubber bands, each muscle a layer of tighter and tighter elastic that’s circled around you. “Lean forwards a little?”

At least Taehyung can’t see your face from this angle. You have no idea what sort of expression is twisting your features; consternation and horrified anticipation, probably. You're basically throttling your plushie, taking out your tension and frustration on the poor thing, Rilakkuma's placid face morphing into a twisted expression of sympathy under your grasping fingers.

“Perfect,” Taehyung says. The sound of praise in his deep voice has your insides turning into overheated syrup, hot and thick, dripping down and pooling between your legs. You hate yourself. Getting turned on by the most innocuous words from your best friend, really? Get it together.

The second you feel Taehyung's warm hands touch the back of your neck, your shoulders hunch up faster than a whiplash, a turtle sucking its head into its shell. Your friend laughs.

“This is the opposite of relaxing,” he says, voice warm with amusement. 

“You surprised me.” You dig your nails into Rilakkuma's soft brown fur. Taehyung just thinks you're not used to being massaged, not that you're being weird because it's him that's touching you. Because he touches you a lot. He’s just never done it like this. “Sorry.”

“It's fine,” he replies, unruffled and oblivious. “Let me try again?”

You bite your lip, desperately trying to quell the mix of arousal and tension that’s churning in your stomach, begging your muscles to unwind. You’ve kept your crush a secret from him for this long, you can keep that energy up. (You have to keep that energy up.) “Um. Okay.”

You’re still tense when Taehyung puts his hands on you again. The touch is warm through your clothes, firm but careful, digging into the sharp line of tension laid across your shoulders; despite the way your heart is threatening to launch itself out of your chest, you start to loosen up, because holy shit that feels nice, actually.

You melt against Rilakkuma and smother the bear's face in your chest. “Your teacher wasn’t kidding when they said that you’re good with your hands,” you mumble. 

You’ve never gotten a proper massage before but it feels so damn good that you can’t help but unwind, turning to jelly at the confident presses of Taehyung’s fingers and palms into the soft skin between your neck and shoulder. A little sigh spills past your lips when Taehyung starts to work at the part that’s been twinging after you lay crookedly on it, limbs akimbo in your sleep after a long night at work. “Oh, right there, Tae.”

Taehyung goes still for just a second before continuing, trailing his fingers over your shirt. “Here?”

Your eyes have drifted shut so you can focus on the sensation of that tension being pulled out of your body. “Yeah, right there,” you repeat, massaged into a state of lazy euphoria. The breath you let out is long and deep, catching in the back of your throat at a particularly firm rub of Taehyung’s hands; if you weren’t so blissed out you might be embarrassed at how much the noise you make is like a moan, but as it is, you don’t even notice. You just let out a little sound of discontent when Taehyung’s fingers stutter in their motions, displeased that he’s stopped even for a second.

By the time the massage is over, you’re so relaxed that you feel like you could melt into the floor, a wobbly puddle of unwound muscles and loose limbs. It’s official. You’re a massage convert.

“Holy shit.” Your eyes flutter open as you lean away from Rilakkuma so you can turn around. They’re the first coherent words you’ve spoken for a while; small sighs and sounds have been dripping from your lips and it’s only now that you’re able to regain your breath. “Tae, that was amazin—”

You’re met with the sight of Taehyung’s back as he power walks away, steps rapid, a little shaky, awkward. Before you can ask what’s wrong, he’s stepping into the bathroom. 

“I need to wash my hands,” he says without looking at you, before the door slams shut.

You don’t remember Tae telling you about how quickly you have to wash your hands after finishing a massage. But, thinking about it, you suppose it makes sense—you know, with massaging multiple clients or whatever—even if it’s surprising exactly how fast he’d hoofed it away from you. It sounds like he’s switched both taps on full blast as well, noisy even through the wooden door, and judging from how long he’s in there, he’s being very thorough. Hand washing must be a lot more important than you’d realised. 

Once Taehyung emerges, his face is a little flushed, cheeks a soft red. You wonder if the hot water tap is playing up again and filling your dinky bathroom with hot steam, and make a mental note to look into it. You smile at Taehyung from your perch on the sofa, Rilakkuma plopped on your lap, smile spread across your features; one that Taehyung returns, as pink-faced as he is.

“How’s your shoulder feeling?”

“So much better, honestly,” you admit. It’s incredible. He hasn’t even finished the course yet and he's already this good. He really does have magic hands.

“I’ll have to give you massages more often,” Taehyung says, though the end of the sentence trembles a little. He must be light-headed after all the steam in the bathroom.

The thought of more massages doesn’t fill you with as much mind-numbing trepidation as it might have earlier, utterly languid as you flop across the sofa, muscles uncoiled after the lovely touch of Taehyung’s even lovelier hands. No wonder people rave about spa days if they leave you feeling like this. Maybe if you’d been staring at Taehyung in the eye when he’d been touching you, then you’d feel a lot more awkward—as it is, it’s no worse than usual. Your crush is still all-encompassing but you also got a massage out of it, so.

“Sounds great.” This time you don’t even have to fake your excitement. “Now come sit your butt down so we can order some takeout and decide what to watch.”

When you bend down to speak to Pickles later, the bearded dragon is lolling on his favourite branch. “There’s still a high chance that I’m going to die,” you say in a low voice, before you flick the lights off so the lizard can sleep. “But he hasn’t broken out the oils yet, so I think I’ll be okay for now.”

--

Your luck doesn’t last.

“Strawberry and champagne, lychee martini, mint mojito, white chocolate, or tropical coconut?”

You look up from where you’re painting your toenails. “Huh?”

Taehyung bundles into the room and throws himself onto your bed, flopping on his belly and ignoring the way the mattress is jostled. You, of course, are used to his antics, which is why you’d swept your open bottle of nail polish up before he could spill it everywhere.

“What do you think sounds best?”

“Well, that depends,” you say, squinting at your toes and carefully sweeping the polish over the freshly buffed nails. “For candles, I think they sound pretty nice. For sauces to pour over a steak, I’d say I’d give them all a hard pass. What’s it for?”

“Massage oils,” Taehyung says blithely, too busy staring at his phone to see you muffle a curse when your hand slips and you paint your entire little toe blue. “I was wondering which you think sounds best.”

“Oh. Uh.” You fumble to clean your toe and salvage the now-terrible pedicure you’re trying to give yourself. It was only a matter of time before massage oils were going to become part of your life. Taehyung never goes into things half-hearted, so of course he’s going to invest in oils, too. God’s sake. You can never catch a break, can you? “Why these ones in particular?”

Taehyung pauses for a suspiciously long time, but it gives you the chance to furiously rub at your toe while he’s distracted. “We get a free bottle from the course,” he says eventually.

Huh. Okay. “That’s pretty neat. What was the last one? Coconut? Stick with the basics, can’t go wrong with that, right?”

“Coconut is always tasty,” Taehyung comments absently, and you glance up from your Smurf toe.

“Agreed, but it’s not like you’re about to eat massage oil, are you?”

Taehyung pauses, and then buries his face into his phone screen—suddenly very intent on rereading the list of ingredients in each bottle, it seems. “No, of course not, you’re right,” he mumbles.

He’s almost finished the course. He’s not going to be an accredited masseuse or anything, but you definitely think he could be, if he wanted to—you’ve never had less tension in your shoulders and neck in your life. Taehyung always eases his way into your personal space anyway, casual and effortless after years of friendship, but now you’re used to his fingers sliding over the back of your neck, a gliding touch, sending tense little goosebumps over your skin while simultaneously making you melt. 

“It’s pretty cool that you get free stuff, though.” Your toe is clean, thankfully, no longer blue. “And not just, like, a generic bottle of oil or something. They all sound really fancy. I didn’t realise that you could get massage oils that were scented like that?”

Taehyung makes a non-committal noise, which is uncharacteristic of him, but you’re too focused on repainting your final nail to pay it too much mind, letting out a loud huff of triumph when you’re done.

“Get me a bag of shrimp crackers, please?” You have a sudden craving but you don’t want to penguin waddle to the kitchen and risk getting anything on your wet nails. “Ya girl is hungry.”

“Got it.” Taehyung rolls off the bed without protest. You’re used to his antics, and he’s used to yours, indulging you whenever you feel lazy or want him to do something for you. “You need me to feed you?”

“I wasn’t going to use my toes to feed myself,” you laugh, but Taehyung ends up feeding them to you anyway.

When you recount the list to Seokjin later, his face crumples in a way that’s equal parts offended and disgusted. “They all sound terrible,” he says. “White chocolate should stay in chocolate form and not be turned into an oil. Why does massage oil even have to smell like anything?”

You’re both holed up in the tiny smoking nook behind Olive Chicken; neither of you smoke, but it’s a good excuse to go outside and get fresh air during longer shifts. 

“Hey, don’t ask me, I’m not the one who’s taking the course. I think lychee martini sounds interesting, though.”

“Agree to disagree.” Seokjin unwraps one of the complimentary chocolates the restaurant gives to diners with their bill, swallowing it whole. “Besides, we all know Taehyung could approach you with dirty, used fryer oil and you’d let him dip you in it.”

You slap the next chocolate out of his hand before it reaches his mouth. He’s unmoved and simply plucks another from his pocket, which is apparently bulging with them.

“Yoongichi,” Jin says, calling to the delivery boy, who’s just appeared from the dark like some tired-eyed spectre of fried chicken. “Tell me this. If I were to ask you what smell of massage oil you’d prefer, what—”

“I would say that I really could not care less.” Yoongi flops down on one of the rickety fold-out chairs before silently accepting a chocolate from Seokjin’s stash. “And then I’d ask why you’re asking me in the first place, seeing as you’re the one using it, not me. If Taehyung’s asking what massage oil you’d prefer, Y/n, it’s because he wants to rub it all over you specifically.” Yoongi munches on the chocolate, already filling in the blanks without needing to be told the context. You really are that transparent, huh. “Please, we’ve been over this.”

Jin pouts. “You ruined my set up. I had a whole speech prepared.”

“Oh no.” Yoongi remains blank-faced. “How terrible.”

“I hate both of you,” you say. “I’m going to tell Pickles how mean you are.”

“I bet if that lizard could talk, he’d tell you how tired he was of you two dancing around each other, just like the rest of us,” Yoongi says.

There’s no dancing around, though, no matter what your friends say. Well. Not on Taehyung’s end anyway. You’re out here doing the fandango, castanets and all, while Taehyung just stands stock still, oblivious.

You let out an incredibly long sigh. Seokjin hands you a sympathetic chocolate.

The massage oil doesn’t make an appearance in your life for a little while, though. The end of the course comes and goes, Taehyung proudly flapping the laminated certificate at you, wobble-wobble-wobble, filling the apartment with the sound of rippling plastic. But no coconut oil.

The scent of ‘tropical coconut’ has started to haunt your dreams, in a way that’s both good and bad; when you wake up in a sweat, heart pounding, it’s not because you’re having nightmares, let’s just put it like that. It’s like there’s an invisible countdown that you can’t trace and it’s only a matter of time before it ticks over and the shoulder massages (that you’ve gotten very comfortable with) edge into something different. Taehyung’s going to innocently offer to give you a backrub and uncap that bottle of scented oil and you’re going to explode into a mess of putty under his hands.

Well… then again… you had been worried about that with all the shoulder rubs. Now look at you. You weather those like a champ. Sure, your skin tingles and you run hot and you think about the sensation of Taehyung’s hands gliding over you whenever you’re alone, but you’re basically fine. Your friend who just so happens to also be the great love of your life remains none the wiser.

You bet a full back rub would feel great after a long week.

Which is why when Taehyung steps into the apartment with a look on his face that you immediately recognise as tiredness, you sort of wish you knew how to massage people, too.

He falls into your arms with little fanfare. It’s been one of those days, one of those ones that everyone gets, even Taehyung—he’s usually so Switched On and Exuberant and Alive, and people don’t seem to realise that even he feels exhausted, sometimes.

“You alright, bubs?” You can’t massage him but you can rub his back soothingly, let him snuffle against your neck. Sometimes you think about that little space between your chin and collarbones as Taehyung’s, a hollow that’s perfect for him to press his face into, hair tickling your chin as he curls up into you. His and his alone. “Did something happen?”

He just shakes his head.

“Okay,” you say.

(Close proximity and skin on skin with Taehyung doesn’t always have your pulse rising and your heart racing. Sometimes it’s just this: quiet and soft, your heart bright with fierce affection for this boy, the only thought in your mind that you want him to be happy, forever.)

The long silence is broken by the sound of Taehyung heaving in a breath before letting out a long, exhausted sigh. 

“Thank you.” His voice is quiet and low, far less energetic than his usual self.

“Nothing to thank me for, Tae,” you reply. “Always here for you. You know that, right?”

He doesn’t respond straight away. He just burrows closer, draped over you, until he murmurs, barely audible. “Why?”

Your face twists. “Why, what? Why am I always here for you?”

“Yeah.” Taehyung squeezes himself impossibly closer, skin warm against yours, forehead pressed to the skin of your neck. You can’t see his expression from this angle.

“Because you’re one of my best friends and I love you,” you answer, immediately. You don’t even have to think about it. “Because you’re important to me and if there’s anything I can do for you, I will. I’ll celebrate the good things in your life with you, and I’ll be at your side during the bad times, just like you are with me. Please don’t ever forget how much I love you, okay?”

There’s a pause, and then it feels like all the tension leaves Taehyung’s body, slumping his whole body weight against you. “Okay,” he murmurs. “I love you too. Thank you,” he says again. You just reply by squeezing his shoulders.

He’s a little quieter for a few days after that. You’re not sure why, because he’d perked up after a lazy evening of lying around and eating too many snacks, flopped against you like an oversized, clinging starfish—but you’re gentle with him nonetheless. 

(Well. You’re always gentle with him. It just takes you half a second to fold in the face of his whims, rather than a whole, full second.)

So when the dreaded bottle of oil finally appears, you’re far less ready to fight off Taehyung’s insistence on a full body massage, caught off guard after days of indulging him. Fuck. 

“You’ve had a long week!” Taehyung insists as you scrabble your way over the sofa’s backrest so you can hide behind it, clutching a cushion to your chest. “You need to relax!”

Without looking you fling the cushion over the sofa. Judging from the fact that Taehyung doesn’t make a sound, you’ve missed. “I was feeling perfectly relaxed until you started yelling at me about it! Why are you so obsessed with the idea of me being relaxed?”

Taehyung doesn’t respond. Oh, crap. Maybe you did hit him with the cushion?

You pop up from behind the sofa. Nope. It's an embarrassing distance away from Taehyung, who’s got that surprisingly large bottle of oil held loosely in his hands. There’s an expression on his face that you can’t decipher; a little crestfallen, a little unsure, but there’s something else there, too, something you can’t put a name to.

“Taehyung?”

“I just… wanted to help,” he says. “You’re always there for me when I’m not feeling great, and you calm me down, and I wanted to do the same for you.”

You immediately feel like the worst human being alive. Take the feeling you get whenever you accidentally step on an animal’s tail, multiply it by infinity, and that’s only just a drop in the ocean of awful, awful guilt that you’re drowning in. 

“Oh, Tae,” you say. Your voice comes out so much softer and sweeter than you mean it to, but you can't help it. “I’m sorry. I was just joking. It’s really nice of you to be so concerned. You just surprised me. You do help me relax and your massages are great.” (You tell him that often enough that he should know it, but it never hurts to repeat a compliment.)

His face lifts. It’s like the sun bursting forth from the clouds after heavy rain, and you have to resist the urge to shield your eyes, blinded by the brightness and beauty. Kim Taehyung is so unfairly gorgeous (but what else is new?). “So I can give you a massage?”

Despite the fact the prospect makes you want to fling yourself into space, when you’re faced with Taehyung’s dark eyes and wide smile and large, warm hands, you cave, because of course you do. If, way back when you’d first been frying up that kimchi rice and letting Taehyung thrust his phone into your face, you’d been told you’d end up in this position, you would have laughed outright. Haha, yeah, sure, like you’d be stupid enough to let yourself be wrangled into such a vulnerable state in front of Taehyung, nowhere to run, helpless under his fingers. Not.

But here you are. Whipped for Kim Taehyung, forever and always.

The pastel blue towels under your stomach and chest are soft as they shield you from the cold, hard floor. You’re incredibly aware of how chilly the apartment feels, air prickling against your bare skin; you shift to try and get comfortable, glancing over your shoulder to fiddle with the towel that’s draped over your hips and ass, making sure it’s covering everything. Taehyung insists on authenticity (as if you’re not lying on the floor of your apartment rather than on a massage table) and he says that it’s normal to be completely naked for a full-body massage, even underneath any towels that are covering you up.

Authenticity is also why he’s in the other room, warming up the massage oil, because that’s apparently a thing?

(You’re going to die.)

It doesn’t matter that Taehyung will only be able to see the back of your head, your shoulder blades, the small of your back, a slip of your thighs, your calves. None of these things are especially scandalous; all the parts of your body that someone might find more interesting are out of sight, pressed against the floor or hidden under a layer of Egyptian cotton microfibres. 

And yet you can’t help but be hyperaware of how you’re entirely unclothed. Even if it doesn’t bother Taehyung—what with, you know, the fact he’s not interested in you like that and doesn’t find you attractive at all (sigh)—embarrassment creeps hot and uncomfortable under your skin.

It just feels so crazy intimate to be laid out like this, even if people do this all the time, happily strip down to let professionals rub the tension out of their body. 

(Then again, most people aren’t best friends with their masseuses and haven’t harboured long, one-sided crushes on them, either.)

Just breathe. You can do this. You love the shoulder massages that Taehyung’s been giving you; just think of this as a shoulder massage. 

… A shoulder massage that involves warm oil, near-nakedness, and Taehyung’s hands sliding all over you.

… You are going to have a very long venting session with Pickles after all this.

You’re so distracted by your own self pity and distress that you don’t register the sound of Taehyung entering the room; the little pause when he steps over the threshold, feet stuttering, just for a moment. It’s only when he’s kneeling down that you notice his presence, body jolting from surprise before you let out a slip of high laughter.

“Jesus, Tae,” you say. In any other circumstance, you’d be clutching your chest. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.” He sounds genuinely apologetic.

Your cheek is pillowed on your arms. When you turn to look at your best friend you immediately regret it; he’s settled back on his ankles, knees spread wide, and you come eye-to-eye with his crotch.

In an effort to look away from his clothed dick, your gaze flies up to his face, which might be even worse. He has this intense look in his eyes, and wow, alright, you’ve never been able to see Taehyung’s face as he’s been massaging you, but you never realised exactly how seriously he seems to take it, judging from his expression.

(Do all massage therapists look like that when they work?)

“That’s alright.” You’re a little breathless, but you’re going to blame that on how your boobs are smooshed into the floor, and not on anything else, nuh uh. Shoulder massage. It’s a shoulder massage. It’s just like a full bodied shoulder massage. (Maybe if you repeat it to yourself often enough then you’ll actually start to believe it.) “Uh. Do you need me to… do anything? Or do I just lie here?”

Taehyung’s expression lightens a little at the uncertainty in your tone, smile curling up the corners of his mouth. “You’re perfect right where you are,” he says, and then he reaches for the bottle of oil.

You turn your head away again, cheeks burning. There’s no way you’ll be able to handle the visual of him slicking his fingers and palms up. “Cool,” you say, voice only a little strained. “Coolcoolcoolcool.”

(It’s not cool.)

You don’t have a visual, but you do get the auditory experience thanks to the relative silence in the apartment. Goosebumps ripple down the back of your neck and trail down your spine at the sound of Tae’s hands sliding against each other, thoroughly coated in the warmed oil, and you’re so glad that you can blame it on the chill in the air.

At first, it’s okay. Taehyung starts at the parts of your body that are used to receiving his attention, though it’s different without the barrier of clothing in the way, not to mention how easily his palms glide over you, the air full of the light scent of coconut. It’s different, but manageable, and you think you just might be okay; as always, his touches are firm but careful, and your body is used to this by now, relaxing.

But. The second you feel Taehyung’s touch between your shoulder blades, you stiffen with a shiver. The oil is the perfect temperature against your skin, but you’ve always had a sensitive back; you can’t help but clench your fists, digging your fingers into your palms. Relax. Just breathe. 

“You’ve got a lot of tension here.” Taehyung’s voice is low as he digs the heel of his palm into the dip of your spine.

It’s because you’re touching me there, you think to yourself, but just let out a non-committal hum of agreement instead. 

You feel Taehyung's hands, a repeated sliding motion between your shoulder blades; the tension starts to leak out of you again, but your breath hitches in your throat at how you're pressed downwards and into the cotton towels beneath you, nipples hardening against them.

Thank God you're on your front so Tae can't see what effect he's having on you.

“Better?”

Taehyung's voice is always deep, but you'd swear it was even deeper in this moment, pitched low. Maybe that’s because the sound of blood pumping is filling your ears so it’s hard to discern. At this point, who even knows? Not you, that’s for sure.

“Yep.” Why are you so breathless? You haven’t moved at all, but you sound like you’ve just run the 100m sprint, winded and weak. “So much better.”

You regret agreeing to this. You are so out of your depth and there’s no way you’re going to be able to hide exactly how much this is affecting you and you want to collapse in on yourself and shrivel up like a sundried tomato, tiny and wrinkly and underwhelming. 

Taehyung shifts to reach more of you and you squeeze your eyes shut so you don’t come face first with his crotch again, shielding yourself from the view of his loose linen trousers stretched almost taut with how wide his knees are. It’s both a blessing and a curse—a blessing because you’re saved from aforementioned view, but a curse because your sensation of touch is heightened, and all you’re aware of is his hands sliding down your sides. You’d swear those fingers were so long he could circle your waist with ease.

(Massages are meant to relax you and yet you’ve never felt so tense in your life.)

Taehyung clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth. “I can’t get a good angle like this,” he mutters.

Before you can think anything or say anything, you become aware of the sound of moving and shifting and—

Your eyes fly open. Taehyung’s straddling your thighs, heavy and warm, and you suck in a breath so sharp and fast you can feel your chest expand, brain full of the screaming clang of warning bells. There’s no way this is a normal masseuse thing. There’s no way. It’s intimate and entirely too physical and there’s absolutely no way that this is something Taehyung learned in class. 

(What is he doing?)

But then any coherent thought in your brain slips when his hands settle on you again.

They so, so lightly brush the hem of the towel that preserves your modesty, and you can’t help the full-body shiver that wracks through you. You suck your lips into your mouth, swallowing down the noise that threatens to bubble up in your throat. There’s the sensation of fingers trailing up the line of your spine, feather light, smoothed by the slide of oil, and you feel like molten lava, burning hot and bright.

“Taehyung.” Your voice is high and faint.

His fingers splay down your ribcage and run down your sides, confident and smooth, warm with that coconut-scented oil, and you’re dying, you’re living; you want to disappear, you never want this to end. 

“Taehyung,” you repeat. Your voice shakes.

He hums, low and indulgent. “Yes?”

“M-my thighs,” you stammer, unable to articulate yourself. Why are you on my thighs, oh God, you’re so warm and heavy on top of me, oh God oh God oh God.

Taehyung completely misunderstands you. “Oh? Of course.” He sounds nonchalant. “I’ll massage those next.”

You can feel the drag of his linen trousers against your skin as he moves down to rest on your calves, and hear the bottle open as Taehyung drizzles more oil over his hands, far more than he could possibly need. His palms feel so broad and warm against the smoothness of your thighs, touches firm and confident as he digs his fingers into the muscle, and, oh, fuck, this is, this is too much—

Your legs jump when Taehyung hitches the towel up, just a little, baring more of your body.

“Fuck.” You can't keep quiet any longer. “Tae, I’m fine, I’m feeling way less tense now.”

He’s still, for a moment, before his hands slide up the back of your thighs. “Are you sure? You want me to stop?”

It’s only then that you realise how deeply Taehyung is breathing, fast and low, voice rough and gravelled. His fingers rest in wait, warm and slick with oil; you’re so close to losing any modicum of modesty, only one motion away from that towel being rucked high enough that there’s nothing protecting you from Taehyung’s touch and eyes.

“I haven’t finished yet, though,” he continues, digging his thumbs into your skin as he pulls his hands down your thighs, mindlessly following the motions he’s been taught. “There’s still more to go.”

You could twist around to look at him but you’re almost afraid to look at his face, afraid of what you’d find there. He sounds as affected as you are, but there’s absolutely no way. There’s no way.

“You don’t need to do the whole massage if I’m feeling relaxed, right?” 

(Because you’re feeling so relaxed right now, of course, and not like you’re about to go supernova and burst into heat and light. Absolutely.)

(But.)

(But. Taehyung’s hands settle at the back of your knees, swiping the sensitive skin with his thumbs. You can’t see his face, but you can feel something in that touch, something more than skin deep, like it’s sinking into you, through skin and muscle and bone, in in in, settling inside you, a flicker of—of—)

“Want to do this perfectly for you,” he murmurs. You clench your hands at the husky note in his voice, nails digging so hard into your palms it hurts. “You deserve the best. I want you to feel good.”

He must be able to see your back rise and fall as you breathe in sharply.

“Taehyung.” Almost pleading. 

“Yes, love?”

You suck in another sharp breath. The pet name sounds so soft and sweet in his mouth, somehow, even with the heated edge to his voice. One that’s definitely there. You’re not imagining it. 

(You’re not.)

“Do you want me to make you feel good?” he continues.

Before you can think, you nod.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Please.”

You’re trembling. Taehyung’s still heavy and warm across the back of your calves, sliding one hand to the inside of a knee and up the soft skin of your inner thighs. You instinctively shift them apart, as far as you can with Taehyung trapping your legs, and, oh, his hand is going higher, oh—

His hand is so big, cupping your overheated sex. It’s hard to tell where the oil ends and your own arousal begins, flushed wet and hot; when he dips his middle finger between your lower lips, long and gentle and firm, you let out a noise you didn’t realise you were capable of. The angle is off, a little awkward, the motions of Taehyung’s fingers stifled by how you’re lying flush to the ground, but God, you’re so turned on it barely matters.

You’re hyperaware of everything. The soft touch of air on the cooling oil across your skin. The fall of the towel, bunched around your waist, slowly slipping to one side. Taehyung’s hand, his fingertips easing through the heat of you, sliding over your clit, over your entrance, slow and soft and amazing. 

“Again,” you plead. “Again, Tae, please.”

“Feels good?” He asks, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you nod, cheek still pillowed against your arm.

“So good,” you say. “But I want more, please, Tae.”

“Anything you want,” he murmurs.

Taehyung’s hand shifts between your legs again, so hot, so big, so reverent. The slide is smooth as his fingers press into your folds, practically gliding. You twist beneath him, letting out a noise of displeasure when he draws his hand away, but then he lifts off your calves. You let him thrust your legs apart before he resettles between them.

Just as you’re distracted with the towel being tugged away from your hips, baring you entirely, Taehyung slides a finger into your weeping cunt.

You whine. It's so long. Now that your calves aren’t trapped, there’s nothing to stop you from rutting back against his fingers. He splays his other hand over the soft flesh of your ass, encouraging the rolling motion of your hips, and you’re gasping, wanton in your noises of desire and pleasure. One finger becomes two, and then three, Taehyung’s voice a low undercurrent to your stuttered moans as he presses them as deep as he can.

“Just like that, angel,” he breathes. “Want you to feel good, keep making those pretty noises, let me know how good it is—”

“Taehyung,” you whine, dragging the syllables of his name out when he curls his fingers inside you, so amazing, hitting you in all the right places.

“Baby.” He sounds wrecked, words sliding together, and you haven’t even touched him yet. “You’re so hot n’ wet, fuck. So perfect. Just like that, keep moving like that.”

You can hear the slick sounds of his thrusts into you. He’s already learned what you like, twisting his fingers in a way that leaves you breathless; they’re so fucking long, sliding into your greedy cunt with ease, reaching so much deeper than your own can. His pretty lovely hands are on you, inside you, and you’re heady at the thought.

“There, Tae, don’t stop, please, p-please.” The coil twists tighter in between your legs, a taut thread that’s ready to snap. He listens, repeating the motion that’s pulling you closer to the edge, eyes wide, staring at the way you’re writhing underneath him; the way the oil on your back and legs shimmers in the light, the evidence of his touch all over you, shining. “Tae, oh, God, right there, yes, yes, yes—”

Your entire body goes tense and then you’re cumming around Taehyung’s fingers, clenching your thighs together, trapping him inside as you buck your hips. You grind back against his hand, a loud moan falling from your lips, drowning out the noise of awe that Taehyung makes when he feels your walls pulsate around him. You're warm and tight and wet, arousal flooding thick against his skin, and he lets out a stuttered groan, fingers buried knuckle deep inside you, feeling every wave of pleasure that rocks through your core.

You’re panting by the time you settle back down and barely make a sound when Taehyung drags his fingers out of you. When he leans down the oil on your skin feels tacky against his clothes, material sticking to you, chest to back, hips to ass. You can feel the hot curve of him through his trousers, his cock heavy, getting harder—and it feels sososo good.

Taehyung’s face is so close, now, chin hooked over your shoulder. Even though you can feel the hardness of his cock pressed against you, the smile on his face is so gentle. Your heart thrums in your chest.

“So cute n' pretty,” he says, and presses his nose to the soft curve of your cheek. Rather than coconut, all you can smell is his shampoo, familiar and homely and heady. “All over. God, I can’t believe you’d let me touch you like this. I’m so lucky. Was that good, baby?”

“Yes,” you say, and then, because you’re still floating in a light haze of disbelief: “I’m the lucky one.” 

Taehyung laughs, low and quiet. It’s a honeyed moment, dripping slow and sweet, even sweeter when he tilts his head forward. His lips are soft against your cheekbone, your jaw, and when you turn towards him, they’re even softer against your mouth. You can feel the shape of his smile, and it tastes so bright, small kisses that turn open mouthed, so perfect. Because you’re kissing Kim Taehyung, your Taehyung, something you’ve been dreaming about for so long, now—even if this entire situation is pretty unbelievable, honestly.

When you pull back, his eyes spark with unadulterated joy. He’s warm and heavy, pinning you down against the towels that are soft against your front; arching your spine, you lean back against the weight of Taehyung’s body, his cock fattening up through the layers of clothes that separate you. He lets out a breath of surprise before he grinds down, pressing that hard heat against you, and your cunt clenches.

“Can I finish the massage?” He asks, sounding almost eager, even with the rasp of lust in his voice. You can’t help but laugh, an affectionate giggle that has you knocking your foreheads together.

“Of course,” you say, and he catches your lips again, swallowing the last of your laughter, sweeping his tongue over your lips, inside your mouth, wet and hot and a little messy, but good. 

“You need to be on your back,” Taehyung continues, slow after the kiss is broken, and, oh, okay, that has you shivering. “If you want to?”

Of course you want to.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Let me move.”

He shifts to give you room, but not before pressing a kiss to the back of your neck, the bump of the top of your spine, lips sliding against the oil that he’d rubbed there earlier, goosebumps erupting over your skin.

“So good to me,” he whispers. You don’t think he even means for you to hear it. 

(It’s said without thought; not thoughtless, no, but a soft little thing that says so much. A thought that’s slipped across his mind and fallen from his lips, warm and tender. Like you’re always good to him, and he sees it, he knows it, he feels it, he thinks it, and he’s almost in disbelief about it, because you’re so good to him.)

You feel warm and languid after cumming, loose-limbed as you flop onto your back. There’s no going back now. There’s no going back from this moment, naked and vulnerable under Taehyung, nothing hidden away any more—the soft fall of your breasts, your stomach, the lines of your hips, your fingers tightening in the towels spread beneath you as Taehyung’s eyes drink you in, wide and overawed at the sight of your flushed cunt, ripe and slick and ready for him.

(There's no more hiding how much you want Taehyung to have you, body and heart alike.)

You can see the shape of your body silhouetted on his clothes, where the oil has seeped into the material from how close he’d been pressed against you. You can see just how affected he is, cock straining against the loose linen of his white trousers, and you bite your lip to try and stifle the sound you make.

“Look at you,” Taehyung breathes, kneeling between your legs. “You’re so perfect.”

Your cheeks burn. “Taehyung, please,” you say, embarrassed. You really aren’t, especially in comparison to model-gorgeous Kim Taehyung, eyes dark and full of heated lust, hair falling in his eyes, effortlessly beautiful, always.

“You are,” he insists. “You have no idea how perfect you are.”

Before he reaches for the massage oil, he sucks the taste of you off his fingers, sloppy and messy. Your pussy throbs at the sight. And—you were also right about the visual being too much to handle, breath catching in your throat as you watch it drip into his broad hands. His palms shine as he rubs them together, interlacing his fingers, so graceful in their motions. You’re so wet from your orgasm, only getting wetter as you stare back at Taehyung, whose gaze has been heavy on you the whole time.

He starts at your collarbones. It’s even slower than before, and you ease underneath him, revelling in the softness of his touch. He sweeps his hands over your shoulders, down your arms, circling his long fingers around your wrists before lifting one of your hands. Your eyelashes flutter as he presses a kiss to your palm, a motion so full of adoration and tenderness it steals your breath away, and you squirm, shy.

“Tae,” you whine. “You can’t just do that.”

Of course he doubles down, lifting your other hand and repeating the motion, letting his lips linger between your head line and your heart line. “I can,” he says, words warm in your cupped palm. 

“I hope you didn’t do this in class.” Your voice is too weak for it to come out as the joke you mean it to be. 

Taehyung just shakes his head, mouth brushing over the tips of your fingers. “Only for you,” he says. “Did the whole class for you. I wanted—wanted an excuse to touch you more,” he admits, and your heart feels like it’s going to launch itself out of your throat.

“Then touch me,” you say, trying to sound confident even if your cheeks burn.

And he does. He lets your hands drop, gliding his touch back up your arms, down your body, over your legs; he massages your thighs and calves, digs his thumbs into the arches of your feet, circling his fingers around your ankles, shackles you don’t want to escape from. You feel so relaxed and lax, somehow, even if every touch has you biting your lip, anticipation roiling  in your stomach for what’s to come, Taehyung laying your legs down softly before he shifts back up, hands held out towards you—

—then he cups your breasts in his big, big hands and your back arches, fingers sliding over your nipples, glistening with coconut oil, circling them with the pads of his thumbs. You let out an embarrassing whine.

“Oh, Tae,” you beg. “More, please.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

You smile at another soft, unexpected pet name, flustered, but then your eyes slide shut when Taehyung bends down to kiss your neck as he continues to run his hands over the swell of your breasts. He trails his lips over your oiled skin, shifts down, drawing a line from your neck to the valley of your chest, the hard line at the center of your ribcage.

“Tae,” you murmur, and then, feeling bold under the heat of Taehyung’s dark eyes— “Baby.”

He hums before laying another sloppy kiss against your sensitive skin. You can feel the curve of his smile in the kiss. “Yes, love?”

“Is it really okay for you to… you know… get that oil in your mouth? I don’t want you to get sick,” you say, concerned, even through the haze of your arousal. His lips shine with it, at how he’s been trailing his mouth over all the parts of your body that he’s touched.

There’s a short beat, and then Taehyung buries his head against your neck—in that little hollow that’s his, in a motion he’s done dozens of times. Except this time you’re naked and he still has fingers splayed across the soft skin of your chest, nipples dragging underneath his palms.

“You’re always so considerate.” His words are muffled against your skin. “It’s fine. It’s edible.”

“You got edible massage oil from your course?”

Taehyung hesitates. “No,” he admits. “I bought it. It’s edible and, uh. Safe for intimate use.”

You’re silent, just for a moment, and then you can’t help it. You start to laugh. 

“Kim Taehyung,” you say, body shaking with amusement. “Did you buy edible massage oil that you can also use as lube?”

Taehyung pulls his face away from your neck and glances up. You’re giggling at him, and he feels so full of love and affection; he can’t help but join in, both laughing at him, loud and carefree.

“It’s why I asked which one you liked,” he confesses, once he can catch his breath.

“I can’t believe you lied to me,” you say, but you don’t mind, really, and he knows it. You lift a hand to push hair out of his face, running your fingers down his scalp. He leans into your touch with a smile, bright and lovely, before he abruptly shifts one of his hands down so he can lick a hot, wet stripe across the skin of your breast.

That stops your laughter pretty fast, surprised hiccup shifting into a broken moan when he engulfs your nipple in the heat of his mouth. “O-oh,” you gasp. “Oh, Taehyung—”

“Been thinking about this for so long.” Taehyung’s eyes are lidded and dark as he leans back, watching the way you react to his touch, arching up towards him. “Wanted to touch you like this so much.”

“Wanted it too,” you breathe. “Wanted—oh, God, Tae, fuck—”

It’s overwhelming. Not just the way Taehyung is flicking his tongue over each of your nipples, pressing his lips against your skin, no—but the idea that he’s been hoping for this, too. Each wet motion of his tongue over your pebbled skin drags pulls out of you; Taehyung’s cock twitches at a loud keen that’s drawn from your lips, a wet patch of precum seeping through his boxers and trousers, darkening the fabric, even though you haven’t touched him yet.

When you reach out to grasp him through his clothes, his hips jolt forward and he bites off a surprised gasp, cutting through the sound with his teeth. He feels long and heavy as you stroke him, thumbing over the wet patch at his tip, hot, even through all those layers between your skin and his.

“I want to feel you, Tae,” you say, staring at him. “Inside me. Please.”

His breath hitches when you tighten your fingers around his shaft and drag your hand upwards, slow and intent. 

“The oil isn’t condom friendly,” he admits, abashed. 

“Then you can cum in my mouth,” you reply. No hesitation.

Taehyung’s eyes are so wide, but then he smiles, eyes squeezing into crescents, mouth turning up into that lovely, broad grin of his. He looks so sweet and sincere, and you feel like you could explode, stuffed overfull with love for him.

“You really are perfect,” he says.

“Only for you,” you reply, your smile just as bright.

He lays one final kiss to your chest, above your beating heart, before he starts to strip. The oil has obviously soaked through his shirt and onto his skin because it sticks when he peels it off and carelessly throws it aside. 

Just like his heart, Taehyung’s body is soft and lovely. You sit up so you can touch him properly, catching him off guard when you pull him in for a kiss—one he eagerly leans into, and without the shirt in the way you can feel the way your skin slides against his, softened with oil. 

There really is no one as beautiful as Kim Taehyung. You drag your hands over him, so warm and wonderful under your palms; his chest, his cute tummy, his waist, his hips, the soft skin above his red, neglected cock. He’s radiant in his nakedness, every easing line of his body so perfect as he kneels in front of you, the flush of his skin, the heavy weight of his arousal, head shining with precum, so wet it’s practically dripping.

You lean in to kiss his neck and nip at his Adam's apple as his hands slide over your shoulder blades and down your back, the parts that make you shudder.

“Want you, Tae.” You whisper into his mouth, a soft secret that isn’t really a secret at all, not any more. “All of you.”

“Going to give you everything you want.” The words flow out of him with ease. “Everything you want.”

His chest and stomach shine with the massage oil that’s rubbed off from your own skin. You run your hands across him, and when you finally grasp his cock without the barrier of cloth in the way, he’s almost burning under your grasp, thick, his entire body shuddering when you pump his length. So sensitive to your touch.

“I’m goin’ to make you cum again,” he promises, and you love it, the way he talks when he’s losing himself. “Bet you’ll feel so good around my cock, so perfect.”

A shiver skates through your body. Taehyung’s fingers dig into your skin when he feels you trembling under his hands, and all you can think about is how you want him in you.

“Please,” you say. “Please, wanna make you feel good too—”

“Hands and knees, angel,” he rasps, and, God, yes, those words cut straight through you, sharp and electric.

Maybe you should feel embarrassed at how quickly you obey. The towels underneath you, so carefully placed at the start, perfectly flat, become rumpled as you shift into position; you arch your back, wanting to look as good as possible, and glance over your shoulder to see if it works.

Judging from the look on Taehyung’s face, it does. He looks like he’s never seen anything more awe-inspiring, eyes wide and mouth a little slack, dumbstruck. But then his jaw snaps shut and he splays his hands over the soft skin of your hips, your waist, your ass, shuffling closer to you; you feel the curve of his cock slide against your skin and you bite back a noise of need.

“Fuck, so beautiful.” He ruts forward, and you can feel the wetness of his precum slicking against you, a beaded line drawn across the sheen of massage oil. “My beautiful, perfect girl.”

“Tae,” you plead, already overwhelmed with need, heart squeezing at his words.

“Just one more thing, angel, I promise.”

It’s a good thing that the bottle of massage oil is so big, considering how liberal Taehyung is with it. You gasp when he uses one hand to spread your ass and before you can react there’s a drizzle of oil falling onto your skin, down-down-down, over your cunt, dripping over your inner thighs; Taehyung catches the excess with his palms before he slicks himself up, spreading that sweet coconut over his throbbing cock.

(You wonder what it’ll taste like when you lick it off him.)

When you feel the blunt head of his cock nudging at your pussy, your entire body lights up in anticipation, nerve endings on fire, every inch of your body singing under Taehyung’s touch—and when he finally sinks in, it’s almost effortless. He’s thick and long but everything slides so easy; you gasp and he moans, both lost in how your body opens up for him, hot and wet. By the time he’s bottomed out you're a quivering mess, collapsed onto your elbows. You’re so full. You feel split open in all the best ways, wanting to draw him in impossibly deeper even so.

Taehyung is gripping your sides, hands unmoving even with the slick oil underneath them, fingers digging into your skin. He’s breathing so loud, and when you experimentally shift your hips, he bites back a noise that cuts through that breath.

“How’s it feel, love?” His words slur together in arousal, but the hand that strokes your back is slow, thoughtful. “Feel good?”

“Fuck me, Tae, baby, please,” you beg. It’s so, so so much, so good, amazing, hotter and bigger and harder than anything you’d let yourself imagine, your entire body taking Taehyung and holding him in, in, in. “Please, I need it, it feels good but I want more, please.”

When he pulls away it’s slow and torturous and he goes so far he almost slips out, cock nearly sliding out of your folds. You whine, a little shameless, mostly needy, but then—

The snap of his hips drives you forwards, towels shifting underneath as you scrabble for a hold on something. Each sharp motion of Taehyung’s body has you choking for air and letting out whimpers and gasps, drowned out by the slap of skin on skin; his hipbones meet the soft flesh of your ass, again and again, but all you can focus on is the thick heat of his cock inside you, in-out-in-out, the press of his balls against your clit, everything so wet and smooth and slick.

You can feel how you’re losing yourself to that heady place that’s golden bright with feeling, lust and sex, the rest of the world gone, unimportant. There’s nothing but this—Taehyung touching you, filling your body so well, so perfect, helping you chase that high that’s growing faster and faster, that precipice of pleasure that he’s going to throw you over again, intent on it.

One of his hands trails up your back, between that sensitive dip of your shoulder blades and into your hair, locks tangling with coconut oil before he urges you up. He doesn’t yank or pull but his hold is firm and you end up back on your hands, arms trembling as you try to keep your balance, back bowed, overwhelmed. 

“Baby,” he rasps. “Oh, you’re so tight n’ hot, so pretty, fuck. You feel so good, do you feel good?”

Your answer is almost a wail, so overcome with pleasure, sensation, the glide of his hands over your shining skin, the mix of oil and arousal that drips out of you, only getting wetter with each thrust of his hips into you. “So good, o-oh God, Tae, baby, fuck, oh, theretherethere—”

“Here?”

He punctuates this with a roll of his hips, using the hand still on your hip to pull you back onto his cock as he fills you up once more, throbbing heat. He bends over you, and this time, there’s nothing stopping the skin on skin contact, the slide of his chest against your back as he kisses the soft skin behind your ear, nipping at your lobe, and that’s it, you’re gone. Your eyes slide shut and your mouth falls open as another orgasm crashes through you, legs shaking as you cum around Taehyung’s cock, grinding back against him to drag out that pleasure; the only thing holding you up is the hand still in your hair, the lips trailing up the side of your bared neck, the hard cock inside you, keeping you against him, so many points of connection with Taehyung.

(His chest pressed against your back, heart beating so hard you can feel it, your own heart moving in tandem, matching him.)

He’s been whispering filth to you, heated praise and love, how good you feel, how beautiful you are, what it’s like to see you like this, touch you like this, have you like this. Lovely, pretty, perfect, gorgeous, hot n’ wet n’ tight, fuck, love, oh.

You’re still shivering, the final pulses of your orgasm curling through you with each unintentional shift of Taehyung’s hips, the drag of his length inside your inner walls. You can feel something dripping out of you; oil, cum, you don't know, but fuck, it feels so so good.

“Oh, God,” you say. Breathless. “Oh, Taehyung, oh.”

“Pretty darling,” he murmurs. He swivels his hips, grinding against you, and your entire body jolts with oversensitivity, clit swollen where his balls press against it. You tighten around him and groan at how hot and big he still feels inside, even as you still shiver from the come down of your second orgasm. “Gonna roll you over so I can see that perfect face.”

And when you’re on your back again, fucked out and mussed and wrecked, he just stares at you. You’ve watched his face for so long, seen so many expressions flit across his features, but never something like this—it’s a mix of amazement and awe and tenderness and lust and love, a lift to his brows and a spark in his eyes and a set to his lips.

And when he leans down to kiss you, that look doesn’t leave. It melts and softens around the edges as you catch each other's mouths, as you kiss and kiss, small tender things interspersed with longer, deeper touches, lips and teeth and tongue—his eyes darken and his mouth flushes darker pink, kiss swollen and so beautiful, but that expression stays. It stays for you. 

Kim Taehyung is beautiful and lovely and unique. Kim Taehyung is so far out of your reach it’s kind of stunning, actually. And yet, here you are, existence of his touch over every part of you, in every part of you, lust driven, love full; the carefully balanced weight of his body splayed over you, pinning you down, keeping you close.

“I wanna see you cum, Tae,” you say. “Please?”

And just like he always does, Taehyung indulges you, just like you indulge him. He presses back inside you, cunt opening up for him so easy, so smooth, like his touch has already been etched into the memory of your body, perfect for him. He stays pressed close, face so near as he rolls into each thrust, sweat and coconut oil painted across your skin as your bodies shift together.

He’s been covering you in his words, both heated and sweet, and now you return the favour. You tell him how good he feels, how beautiful he is, so good, so perfect, so considerate, how much you’ve wanted this. So good, so long and thick, oh, Tae, feels so good, ah-ah-ah, baby, you’re unreal, fuck.

You can see the exact moment he starts to reach his high, the way he sucks in air, the way he lifts his chin, starts to thrust a little harder, a little faster, chasing that thread of pleasure that’s spiralling through him, and you urge him on. You lift your hips and clench so tight it has him gasping, hips stuttering, and you press your nose against his jaw, saying give it to me give it to me give it to me, wanting him to feel the same pleasure he’s given you. 

When he pulls out, you’re too busy moving to pay attention to how empty you feel, settling between his legs and swallowing down his shining cock almost desperately. There’s no coconut. You can only taste yourself and when you lave your tongue across his slit it’s all Taehyung-Taehyung-Taehyung, hot and salt and bitter; he gasps and his hips jump and you take it all, lowering your head as far as you can, the head of his cock at the back of your throat before you pull up, dragging your tongue over the pulsing vein at the underside, messy and wet. You drink down the wetness of his cock, your own arousal, mixed with his, the precum that beads at his head, staring up at him, your hands sliding over the sheen of his stomach, his thighs, cupping his balls, everything slick with oil and sweat.

“Oh, God.” Taehyung’s eyes are blown and his hair is a mess and his mouth is wide open as he pants for air, watching. “Baby, baby, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum.”

You suck hard, dragging your lips up from the base of the cock to the rounded tip, swirling your tongue, bobbing your head faster—

“Oh, fuck—”

—and you swallow down each wave of cum, swallow down the way his cock twitches as he spills the evidence of pleasure into your mouth, swallow down the lovely noises that shudder out of him, watching him the whole time, never wanting to look away.

When you take your mouth off his softening cock, you draw a line of kisses with your mouth, up the soft skin of his body, stomach to chest to neck to mouth. He licks the taste of coconut oil off your lips, the taste of himself off your tongue; you curl up in his lap, settled against him, the apartment’s cool air even sharper against your skin, magnified by the oil that still lingers.

(Even without the oil painted across him, Taehyung would still shine, even under the weak light from the cheap lightbulb that hangs above you.)

You feel soft and warm and small in the circle of Taehyung’s arms, pulled close, and you can hear the words in his chest as he speaks, a resonance that touches against your skin.

“‘M sorry,” he murmurs. 

You pause.

“Baby, love, darling.” The endearments are sugar sweet in your mouth, soft against his skin before you pull back to look at him, confused, concerned. “Sorry for what?”

“I really—I really was just planning to do a massage, but you’re so…” 

You let out a slip of laughter. The room smells of coconut and sex, but when you lay your head against Taehyung’s collarbone all you can smell is the light tinge of his sweat. You breathe in, deep, like you can hold onto that ephemeral part of him. “Oh, Tae. I’m so what?”

“You’re so good,” he says. “So good and kind and lovely and—and so beautiful. I was going to do the massage to make you happy and then… tell you. About how happy you make me.”

You burrow your head into the hollow of his neck, the way he does to you, shy. “I’m not as beautiful as you,” you reply. “Tae, you are literally the most beautiful person alive, and—God, I’ve. I’ve been. So head over heels for you.”

There’s a pause. “Really?”

When you pull back to fix Taehyung with all the surprise in your gaze, you can see that he’s surprised, too. His hair hangs into his eyes, and he looks a little unsure, like he believes you, but finds it impossible to fathom.

You leave massage oil on his cheeks when you cup his face in your hands, staring at him with wide eyes. “Kim Taehyung, I have had daily breakdowns about the intensity of my love for you to Pickles ever since we got him. You’re the first person I think about each morning—usually because we wake each other up—and the last thing I think about at night—well, usually because you end up climbing into my bed more often than not, but, it still counts,” you say. You’re both tangled together in so many ways already. “You’ve had my heart for a long time, you know. I just never thought I had a chance?”

When Taehyung kisses you, it’s brief, a hard press of his lips before he rests his forehead against yours. “You really, really have no idea how perfect you are,” he murmurs. “I’ve wanted—I want to do everything for you to show you how grateful I am for everything you do for me.”

“You don’t have to,” you protest, but he just smiles.

“I don’t have to, but I want to,” he says. “Like you don’t have to look after me, but you do.”

“That’s because I love you,” you say. “Like, capital L love you.”

You’ve been so afraid of confessing, so convinced that it was an unattainable dream; that Kim Taehyung would never, could never, has never seen you as more than a friend. But the way he’s looking at you now, the way he’s touched you, the way your body still echoes with the feeling of him inside you: you’re not scared, any more. You don’t need to be.

Taehyung’s eyes are so dark and warm when he replies, easy and effortless. “I love you, too.”

Your relationship has always been a give and take, is the thing. When you climb in the shower together, he washes the oil from your back while you massage shampoo into his scalp, laughing when he makes devil horns in his hair. He catches you by surprise when he presses you against the tiles, swallowing your moans when he coaxes one final orgasm from your tired body, rubbing tight circles over your clit as you buck against his hand and water cascades over you both. His cock hardens in your hands, sliding between your legs when you press them together, tight-tight-tight, his length rubbing against your cunt as he fucks your thighs until he’s moaning and shaking and cumming again.

(The water’s cold by the time you finally climb out, but that’s okay. You giggle and kiss as you dry yourselves, each other, excuses to keep touching and feeling, driven by affection, not lust.)

When you’re both clean, and dry, Taehyung’s leg thrown over your hip as he tugs you in, flush with his body under the covers, you press your lips against the line of his jaw.

“Taehyung?”

“Yes, angel?”

You smile and hunch up even closer to him, scrunching yourself up as small as you can to plaster yourself against his side. “Thank you for the wonderful massage. Definitely the best massage I’ve ever been given, ten out of ten, would do again.”

Taehyung laughs, pressing his rectangular smile into the kiss he lays against your lips, and you think that nothing tastes better than the happiness curling his mouth.

“Love you,” he murmurs. Always romantic. “I love you love you love you.”

“Tae-honey-hyung.” And it feels so nice to not have to filter your words, to bite back that second layer of meaning, to try and keep things platonic and chaste when you speak. “I love you.”

And it feels so nice to have your Taehyung beside you, your body still aching with the press of him inside you, a good ache, a nice ache. A physical ache from good love, rather than a heartache from a love you didn’t think was reciprocated. But it is, somehow, each of you so bowled over by each other.

--

(“Hey, Pickles.”

The bearded dragon looks up at you, placid as he lounges in his tank.

“Well, you’ll be happy to hear that you won’t have to put up with me ranting at you any more,” you say. “Taehyung did break out the massage oil but it’s all good. I didn’t spontaneously combust or anything, like I thought I would.”

Pickles’ tongue flicks out as he shifts, and you smile.

“Okay, that’s it, I’m done,” you finish. “Thanks, Pickles. You’re a real pal.”

Taehyung nuzzles into your neck. His arms are a tight circle around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder as he looks down at the reptile, too. He’s warm and solid against your back, and you lean into him, happiness tingling through you.

“I wonder how much longer we would have taken if you didn’t get that coupon for a massage therapy course,” you muse, and Taehyung chuckles, warm and lovely.

“We would have gotten there eventually. And we would have had each other until we did, anyway. Right, angel?”

Pickles stays quiet as you both kiss, but you can tell he approves.)

--

taglist: @beyoncesdragon​

[bakubros-boo-thang]

Disrespected Devil

Wordcount: -4K

Lucifer x F!Reader

Summary: When you disrespect the demon king, Lucifer is forced to say goodbye to you.

Genre: Angst, smutt, slight fluff, but tbh just angst

A/N: So another first. Not only my first time writing for the Obey me fandom (I have a major Obey me brain rot), but also my first time writing angst and I felt depressed after finishing this (which I did a second ago). I love Diavolo, but I needed a reason for the goodbye to happen so even if his dad is the villain, he is the one to execute it... Hope you enjoy this story.

Warning: NSFW, mentioning of being paralyzed I guess.

‘’What’s with Luci today?’’ ‘’He looks more pissed of than usual…’’ ‘’He probably listened to classical music too long and forgot his homework.’’ ‘’Lucifer forgetting his homework will never happen, but if it did he would look like this.’’ Hearing all those whispers during dinner time is nothing new for you. Tonight is different though. You know why he’s mad and you know who’s the blame. But it’s not as if you don’t have a reason to be just as upset. As dinner slowly ends you know there is only a small gap to avoid a situation. ‘’Beel, how about we go bake something for later this evening?’’ You say, as you cling onto the huge redhead. You know that food is a trigger and you know that this is the way to hide from HIM. ‘’Alright, sounds delicious!’’ He doesn’t seem to notice the way you hold onto him for dear life and the same goes for the others. Clearly, they’ve gotten so used to you that it’s not even necessary to be by your side 24/7. It’s not as if they know tonight will be the last time they see you. It’s a small moment of weakness and you feel your heart clench by the thought of leaving those boys. It’s enough to make you lose your grip on Beel's arm. Enough to bend over, because it physically hurts to leave them behind and enough for Lucifer to finally notice you and come to your aid. ‘’Beel, I think she ate something wrong. No cake tonight, I will see her to her room.’’

And with that, he scoops you up and takes you upstairs. Of course, your room is not an option. It’s way too close to the other rooms. No place to yell. No, Lucifer’s room is soundproof. Made for his nights spent with loud classical music and also made for the occasional screaming match with one of his brothers. As he enters the room, he carefully puts you down on his bed. ‘’Are you feeling alright, Y/n?’’ He says as he lays his palm against your forehead. The feeling of sadness is gone, already replaced by nerves. You know what’s coming. You know you won’t hold back. Will this be your last fight with Lucifer? The question never makes it to the surface, because the moment you nod your head in ensurement, Lucifer opens his mouth. ‘’Good, because you have no idea how foolish you acted today.’’  As mentioned before this room reminds you of the occasional screaming matches he must’ve had with his brothers, but never with you. Pissing Lucifer off is easy. You’ve done that plenty of times. Even made him show his true form, but making him scream, that is something you never achieved. Still, it is worth the try. Tonight is your last chance. As you get up you take a look at his face. What faces you is the cold expression he usually shows when he’s done with someone’s bullshit. The expression you have already mirrored back to him. ‘’So you are going to ignore me?’’ I’m not going to answer him. ‘’Are you serious?’’ I am not going to say a word. ‘’Should I spell out what you did?’’ Don’t say a thing. ‘’You just signed your death certificate.’’ His voice cracks and even though it’s far from the scream you aimed for. It’s still the first sign of emotion from the man you care about so much. ‘’Diavolo didn’t seem upset by what I said?!’’ You can’t help but talk louder. especially after being silent for the past few minutes. ‘’ As if he is going to kill me? ME?! And ruin the bonds that are being formed with the humans?’’

You can feel the tears in your eyes, this fight might’ve been about you being disrespectful in some way, but for you it was different. All this time getting closer with all the brothers. All this time loving them. All this time being there for them. It made you realize that the only one who made it difficult was him. With every step getting closer to each other; there were always a few steps back. An obsession with keeping up appearance, an obsession over a promise he would keep no matter what, an obsession with being a stuck-up asshole; That was Lucifer in a nutshell for you. And still, you couldn’t help being drawn to him. As a moth drawn to a flame. Even when the flame could easily kill the moth. Just as easily Lucifer could kill you. And it’s not as if he hadn’t tried that before. ‘’Y/n, You disrespected his father. I had to bargain for you to even leave the castle. The first time I trusted you enough to take you with me alone. And this is how you behave? You know what he wanted to do to Belphegor…’’ You know this story is his weakness. The reason he ended up becoming the lapdog of his so-called best friend. Still, it only makes you more upset to hear him say it. Even when you can hear the slightest hint of emotion in his voice; his eyes stay just as cold as usual. ‘’He is your best friend, isn’t he? He is my friend too, right? You always do this Lucifer! You always get mad over things and it never solves anything. You get mad at me for having fun. You get mad at me for trying to help. You get mad at me for trying to get closer to you. You don’t share things with me! Maybe Diavolo should’ve locked me up. Might as well get myself killed; it’s not as if you never tried to kill me…’’ Your voice is loud as you speak, but his silence is louder. He just stares at you and then it happens.

It’s not that you’re scared you’ve seen his true form before. It’s just as beautiful as him, but it’s also something that happens when he’s full of rage, just as that one time he tried to kill you. You can feel yourself freeze under his gaze. You can feel yourself moving away from him until you reach the headboard of his bed. Still, he moves closer. Until his lips are inches away from your ears. No screams, only whispers; what a way to say goodbye. ‘’DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA OF WHAT IS EVEN GOING ON?!’’ You are so shocked by the volume of his voice, the bass it carries, that it takes some time to realize he has more to say. Your ear is beeping as he moves his lips away and locks his gaze onto you. ‘’DIAVOLO IS NOT THE FUCKING PROBLEM, Y/N, HIS DAD IS. YOU INSULTED THE KING OF DEVILDOM IN FRONT OF HIS SON AND MULTIPLE WITNESSES. DIAVOLO CAN’T DO SHIT ABOUT THAT.’’ Only now do you notice the way his hands are gripping your arms; The way his expression has changed from cold to almost desperate. ‘’That guy has only been able to do what his dad wanted. Our friendship is real, but if his father told him to kill me, he would do it without hesitation. Do you really think he would think twice about killing you? IF HE WOULD KILL ME -HIS BEST FRIEND- IN AN INSTANT?” You notice the tears in his eyes. Lucifer is screaming and crying, but this isn’t a win. Before your heart breaks again, his arms are around you and his face is hidden in your neck, but that doesn’t stop the words. ‘’I had to send you away. I had to be cold. They know I care about you, but not to this extent. I had to pretend it was for the sake of the bonds. After you left I had to beg on my knees for your survival. I had to beg. The avatar of pride begged someone on his knees. It was all Lillith over again…’’

There is nothing you can say to fix this. It might’ve slipped your mind while you were there. But you were surrounded by royalty. What might’ve seemed innocent for you, was clearly a lot for them and now you had to leave everyone you loved behind. You can feel the tears fall from your eyes. “I’m sorry Luci, I truly am.” It won’t help, but it’s the least you can say as you look up into his eyes. He is still in his true form, but even with his wings all spread out, he has never looked more vulnerable. There is a sad smile on his lips as he caresses your cheek. “I know you are, you fool.” He says with no trace of the rage he had before. “ I don't want to leave you all…I don't want to leave you!” You know that you sound like a small child that already knows he lost and that’s exactly what you feel like. “It’s too late for that now, Y/n. Diavolo gave me tonight to say my goodbyes.”  You try to distract yourself by focusing on his raven colored wings. “So that means I can’t say goodbye to the rest…”  The pain is back. Never being a fool with Mammon, never dressing up with Levi, doing make-up with Asmo, reading books with Satan, eating with Beel or sleeping with Belphie.  You can’t help but grab your chest again. “Are you okay?” Lucifer is supporting you within seconds as he asks the question. “No I’m not, but atleast I get to say goodbye to you.”  And as you look up he leans in and gives you a tiny peck on the lips. “I’ve wanted to do that for quite some time.” He lets out. You can’t help but smile as you pull him back towards you. “Let's make it a proper goodbye then.” You whisper as you pull him back to your lips.

It’s not like it’s your first kiss with Lucifer, but it’s the last and that’s what makes it so much more special. It’s the combination of mutual sadness and desperation, the hint of rage still brewing somewhere deep inside the both of you. He knows your body, the way it will arch when he pushes you all the way down onto the bed. The tiny gasps when he starts kissing your neck. The way you look away when he starts kissing all the way down your body. ‘’Please keep looking at me, dear. I want you to see how much I am going to miss you.’’ It’s enough to make your heart flutter, the way he starts to attack your core with his tongue right away. It’s obvious he is in a hurry, but even with all the sadness, it’s the best way there is. You can’t help your moans; You’re lucky his room is soundproof. He’s fast, maybe too fast, but with everything that’s going on, it’s the best you can get. And that’s what it is. The best, because within a few minutes you can feel yourself starting to reach that point. The knot in your stomach tightens. your hands end up in his hair and with one loud moan, you erupt around him.

‘’I know that Mammon claims he was your first… in multiple ways… and not to discredit my brother, but I intend to be your last in all of them.’’  He says as he looks at you while he licks his lips. Him saying those words, the way he just made you lose your mind. It feels good, after all the fighting, teasing, kisses and losses , you’re with the man you love. You don’t want to ruin the mood. You’re really trying, but the moment you hear yourself thinking about loving him, about leaving him, about leaving his brothers, you just break. The tears start to form in your eyes and as you try to wipe them away you feel something on your arms. Lucifer. His eyes are cold again as he moves up to face you. ‘’Don’t hide your tears. I am just as sad.’’ He takes a long look at you, lets out a sign, and lays next to you as he caresses your back. ‘’I don’t want to play the ‘’Who has it worse’’ game, truly, I don’t want to, but in all the years I’ve been in heaven and hell, you’re the first human to have ever make my blood boil. Both from nerves and anger nonetheless, but losing you. Losing the one that made my family whole, the one that makes me feel all these emotions, the one that I love, hurts.’’ You can’t help but raise your brow. when he notices your expression he lets out a laugh.

You feel his hand grab your chin and suddenly your lips are only inches apart. ‘’I know you love me, Y/n. I’ve always known. Falling for you, was what surprised me.’’ You can’t help, but roll your eyes at him. Trying to ignore the way his hand feels on your back. The way it slowly moves it’s way to your hips. ‘’You know I do love all your brothers quite a lot too…’’ You say with all the confidence you have left. ‘’I know you do, but still I am the one that has you laying here. Practically begging for more.’’ He let’s out a chuckle as he pulls you closer. ‘’Let’s end this conversation, there’s not enough time.’’ And with that he’s on top of you. You know there isn’t much time, but when he starts to unbotton his shirt it’s as if time slows down. Of course he notices your looks and can’t help to give you a sly smirk. ‘’Don’t worry your next.’’ Is all he says as he takes his shirt off and starts tugging on yours. After your shirt is taken off he takes a look at your body and all you see is adoration on his face. ‘’I want to see all of you.’’ It makes your body flutter. ‘’You’re absolutely breathtaking.’’ He whispers. All this praise makes you feel weak. You try to grab his face, but as you put your arms up they fall down. You feel weak. Not because of his words, but something else. You see Lucifers expression change, the adorations is switched to concern, then back to concentration and before you know it he scoops you in his arms and makes you straddle him.

He’s looking at you, but not really. Obviously talking to himself. ‘’He wanted to be sure…’’ And as he says it he’s back. Back to giving you a sad smile. ‘’What’s going on?’’ Is all you let out. Is all you can let out, as you feel your body weighing more and more. He notices you getting weaker, making sure your settled between him and the headboard of the bed, before he speaks again. ‘’I think it’s time… Barbatos must’ve cast a spell… something that gave us a time limit. The probably knew it would be hard saying my goodbyes to you. Now I’m forced to make haste, just to make sure you’re safe.’’ You can’t even respond. You can move, but barely and all you can do is watch as Lucifer grabs his shirt. As he moves away from you, you’re sure of it. No this is not the way we’re going to say our goodbyes. It needs to be on our terms. Of course those words never leave your lips, but with all the power you have you reach out to him and as he looks back you let out a: ‘’No...not like this.’’ And maybe it’s the few words you’ve spoken, or the way your arm is trembling from all the power it takes to hold on to him, but he crawls back to you. His face is right above yours and if it’s not your eyes making it obvious what you want, you’re mouth will do. ‘’Take me…’’ It’s not a lot of words, but with the face you’re making and the fact that you guys were just in the middle of it, it doesn’t take much guessing. You can see that he’s thinking about it, obviously worried for you, but you can see his eyes change the moment it clicks.

His wings ar still there and you wished you could touch them, feel them one last time, but you should be lucky by what you can still get.’’I used to be a rebel, so why not know.’’ He laughs quietly before he lays you flat on your back.  ‘’I’m going to take care of you my love, promise me to let me know when it’s too much or when you want to stop.’’ You nod your head and you know that your eyes tell him all he needs to know. How bad you want him, how even when you were able to just talk normally, you would want this goodbye to be said only in silence. His body is hovering over yours, his hand touching your neck, giving you goosebumps. ‘’Does this feel nice?’’ he whispers as his hands move towards your breasts. You can only let out a tiny gasp and that tells him enough. ‘’I wish we had more time…’’ Is all he says as his finger enters your core. The moan that escapes you is loader then the both of you would’ve expected. As he continues to stretch you out with one hand, his other starts to prep his cock. ‘’Wish I could… do that for you.’’ You manage to say. You can’t keep your eyes from him. The way he’s hovering over you. His finger inside of you and the way you can’t do anything except for your stares, moans and gasps. ‘’All I want is to feel you right now, my love.’’

And with that he places the tip right in front of your entrance. He makes sure your faces are only inches apart and as he slowly slides into you, his arms make there way to your sides. He’s holding you as he bottoms out in you and the only thing you can do is let out a long moan. He starts moving slowly, tender, putting all his love in every trust. He’s the only one speaking from time to time. ‘’I love you’s’’ and ‘’You feel so good’ s’’ are filling the room. All that praise, all the love in his eyes. The fact that he’s not only literally hitting all your spots, but also the spots in your mind, is what does it for you. You feel yourself unravel under him. You’re so close, that you start to tear up. Your eyes are filled with tears, mostly because of how good this feels, the fact that you’re making love on stolen time, but also because the time is probably running out soon. Lucifer never increases his speed. When he notices your tears he quickly wipes them away and as his hand caresses your swollen cheek he whispers:  Don’t cry, my love, let us enjoy these last moments.’’ And just as he is about to give you a kiss on the lips you whisper a soft ‘’Love you Lucifer.’’ You notice his eyes being red as well and it’s devastating, but it feels so good. the way he keeps a steady pace has you reaching your peak and these final ‘’I love you’s’’, the final kisses is all you need to feel yourself tightening around him. He’s close too, because the moment he feels you tighten around his cock he gives you one firmer stroke and that’s all he needs to cum inside of you. He falls next to you and quickly takes you in his arms. ‘’I wish we could stay like this forever. I would sell my soul… but I guess in some way my soul has already been sold.’’ And all you can do is give him a sad smile before your eyes close.

Lucifer knew that it was time. You were starting to feel cold, too cold. After putting on some clothes and making sure you were fully clothed, he grabbed the coin Barbatos had given him. ‘’Use this before the time runs out.’’ So he had warned him for the curse. He knew he couldn’t be mad at his friends. He couldn’t be mad at you, he could only blame himself. He had shown his weakness by loving you. But you loved his brothers, loved him, despite all he stood for, without any shame. And even with the way it felt like he was going to lose you forever, it still meant the world he had the honor of getting to know you. The moment the coin was thrown a portal started to form and as he grabbed your cold body the darkness swallowed the two of you. As he opened his eyes he saw nothing, but darkness. It took a few minutes to notice that he was in a room. It must’ve been yours, because he noticed a picture of you next to a bed. He was going to take the picture, he was a rebel after all. As he tucked you in, he was at a loss for words. So all he could do was give you one last kiss on the forehead. Not being able to stop the tears falling from his eyes. ‘’Goodbye, my love…’’ and as the darkness was about to swallow him, he couldn’t help but leave one more thing behind. A raven feather, just for good measure. Returning to the Devildom was going to be almost as hard as leaving you here. He was once again going to be the villain in yet another story… the story of how he lost you.

You wake up to sunlight. Too much of it. Why aren’t your curtains closed? Wait, you have to get out of bed, it’s your turn to cook for everyone. Everyone? You live by yourself… right? It feels like you had a weird dream, but you can’t remember it. All you feel is sadness. As if you’ve lost something or someone important. The pain hits you so hard that the moment you try to stand your legs give out and you lay on the ground as tears fill your eyes. It hurts, but you don’t know why. As your hands try to find some grip to get up, you feel something soft. A feather. A raven black feather. It’s weird, but it feels comforting. Before you can help yourself, your lips are already on it and even when you should be grossed out by it, you plan to cherish the little trinket...

[comfortwriting]

Through Thick and Thin - A.S

Anakin Skywalker x Fem Reader

masterlist, requesting rules, guidelines, taglist

About: When Obi-Wan learns of Anakin's turn to the dark side, he goes to Y/N to try and find him; what he gets instead changes everything and Anakin gets the answers he's been waiting for.

A/N: this is my first time writing in months, please be kind! Need to get back to my flow lol

Word Count: 2057

Warnings: murder, death, blood, mention of parent loss.

"He killed younglings, Y/N!" Obi-Wan stressed, pacing around the room "Tell me where he is, I beg you."

You stared at your husbands Jedi Master, contemplating if you should tell him the truth - betraying your husband and revealing his whereabouts or to lie and protect him. After all, you knew what Obi-Wan was going to do.

You knew that Anakin was capable of taking lives, especially the lives of women and children after he murdered the Tusken Raiders - you weren't afraid of him when he confessed and you certainly didn't shame him for it; you could understand his anger, his hate, his need for revenge.

Anakin's back was facing you, he stared at the wall, hot tears streaming down his face.

"I killed them." he paused, catching his breath "I killed them all. They're dead, every single one of them."

Anakin slowly turned around to face you, his face stained with tears, his eyes glassy and red.

You stared at him, trying not to judge him for what he had done - knowing that if you did, you would be the biggest hypocrite known to man.

"And not just the men," Anakin inched closer to you, shaking his head "but the women and the children too."

You froze.

Women, like you.

Children, like the ones you adored at the Jedi Temple, children you dreamed of having with Anakin.

Part of you died hearing his confession, but you remembered how you felt when you were finally left alone in a room with your fathers killer. You too would've killed his wife and the other women and children in their village. You would wipe them all out.

"They're like animals, and I slaughtered them like animals." Anakin started to raise his voice, his pearly white teeth shining in the light "I hate them!"

Anakin dumped himself to the floor, bringing his knees to his chest, more tears falling from his eyes; you placed your hand against his face, wiping away his tears with your thumb.

"It's okay to feel angry, it's okay to hate them after what they did." You said softly, casting circles on his cheek with your thumb.

"I'm a Jedi," his eyes searched yours, his hand reaching for yours, holding it tightly "I know I'm better than this."

You sighed, kissing his hand softly "Don't let what you've done define you, Ani."

"How can I come back from this?" He asked in frustration "How can I move forward if Obi-Wan is holding me back!"

"You find a way," you encouraged him "even if it means going against him... and the council."

"You're going to kill him, aren't you?" You asked quietly.

Obi-Wan didn't answer, he swallowed hard and looked at the pale lilac carpet.

"Why do I get the feeling you're going to be the death of me?"

"Don't say that Master... You're the closest thing I have to a father... I love you. I don't want to cause you pain."

"He has slain younglings, Y/N! I saw his callousness with my own eyes!" Obi-Wan raised his voice, "Anakin has sided with Palpatine! He's the sith lord!"

You started to laugh, waving your hand.

'Of course, Obi-Wan and the council are pinning this on Palpatine, making him the bad guy.' you thought.

"It's funny," you speak up swinging your right leg over your left knee "you and the council painting Palpatine as evil."

The Jedi Master stared at you in horror and couldn't believe the words coming out of your mouth - his heart splitting into tiny fragments, the young girl he raised was defending the chosen one - the young boy who had grown up with bouts of pent up hate and anger, and turned to the dark side.

"Palpatine is the only person other than me who truly cares for Anakin, who never lectures him for his feelings, who never holds him back."

Obi-Wan felt sick.

"I don't know where he is," you lied "even if I did, I'm not telling you."

"Don't make this harder for me than it needs to be," Obi-Wan warned you, remembering the Jedi Code, pushing his memories with you and Anakin aside.

You didn't flinch, instead, you sat back down on the sofa, staring at the beautiful sparkling wedding ring on your finger.

"I don't want to go back," you sighed, dragging your feet through inches of deep, sparkling snow "I've missed being home."

Anakin nervously fidgeted with the ring box in his pocket, practising his words over and over and over, making sure he got them perfect, his body freezing, his hair full of snowflakes.

"I'm so thankful you came here with me, Ani." You smiled, "My dad would've loved you."

Realising that Anakin wasn't following you, you stopped in your tracks and turned around, finding your boyfriend down on one knee.

"Ani-"

"From the day we met, I have never been able to shake you from my mind and heart."  

Your eyes filled with tears and your goggles started to steam up.

"I never got to ask for your father's blessing, but that won't stop me."

You focused on the ring, realising it was the same one that your father always showed you as a child, with his plan to give to you in hopes that you would pass it on to your children.

"Y/N, my love, will you marry me?"

You nodded your head, removing your glove, exposing your warm skin to the freezing air that instantly started to nip at your skin.

"Yes," you smiled, more tears falling from your eyes "I will marry you, Anakin."

"Your father would be ashamed of you, you're becoming the very thing he hated, you're sleeping with the enemy!"

The rage you once felt started to ignite deep inside you as Obi-Wan tried to sour one of the greatest moments of your life.

You stood up, and walked over to him, staring him down.

"You know better than to bring up my father, Obi-Wan."

Anakin tried to catch his breath, stumbling backwards in extreme pain, the sound of your screams ringing in his ears. You were hurt, probably dead with the amount of pain Anakin was experiencing.

His heart started pounding, his ears ringing, feeling sick to his stomach - you couldn't be... could you? who could've done this? why?

"I have these nightmares..." Anakin opened up to you "what I see, happens."

You stroked Anakin's head, your fingertips massaging his scalp, your lips brushing against his neck.

"I had them about my mother before she died, I wasn't strong enough to save her."

You stopped massaging his scalp, and pulled away, looking into his blue eyes - full of tears that pooled up over his waterline.

"You are strong and you get even stronger the more you learn and experience," you paused "I was strong - not strong enough to save my dad, but now I probably would've had a better chance of doing so. We move forward."

Your fiance nodded his head, pursing his lips and kissing you softly, still emotional when he pulled away from the kiss.

"I don't want to dream of you like that- I don't want the nightmares - I can't... I can't lose you..."

You shook your head, cupping Anakin's face in your hands "You won't lose me, Ani."

Anakin didn't know but he would soon find out, killing the last of the separatist leaders on Mustafar, he boarded his ETA-2 Jedi Starfighter and set off in a hurry; desperate to find you.

You were in utter shock.

Your hands trembling, your forehead burning, the room closing in on you yet expanding at the same time and your throat like sandpaper from your constant screaming.

It all happened so fast - Obi-Wan striking for you, your leg being severed off faster than you could realise until you fell down and all you could feel was agonising pain, and the smell of burning flesh filling the room, the blood boiling in your veins.

You sat on the floor, your back propped up against the back of the sofa, dragging yourself across the floor proved difficult since you stopped practising your upper body workouts.

Looking across the room, your eyes landed on Obi-Wan, no longer breathing - how you did it? you didn't know - you managed to take control, more power than you ever had in your life, your fury spitting inside of you begging for release.

Do you feel guilty? Now that you think about it, no.

Obi-Wan attempted to end your life and he would take Anakin's life too.

Bringing the back of your hand up to your forehead, you wiped away the beads of sweat, your chest rising and falling.

Anakin jumped out of his Starfighter, his hood shielding his face, his long strides bringing him closer and closer to you, his eyes no longer a beautiful shade of blue, but like the two suns on Tatooine during sunset.

She can't be. Y/N can't be dead. Not now. Not ever.

Getting closer and closer, Anakin could sense death, pain, and suffering.

The door swung open as Anakin stormed in, searching for you frantically until his eyes landed on your amputated leg in the middle of the room, his face drained of all its colour.

Your screams came back to him, the searing sound of Obi-Wan's lightsaber severing your leg, the loud thud as you fell to the floor and then the walls shaking, everything shaking, your yells, Obi-Wan's voice breaking before his body dropped lifelessly to the floor.

Anakin glanced over to his Jedi Masters lifeless body and stared, his eyes burning holes into Obi-Wans back, wanting nothing more than to revive him just so he could have the pleasure of murdering him for what he had done to you.

You peeked your head out from behind the sofa, "Ani," you winced, "I'm back here."

Anakin rushed to your side, his eyes pouring with tears as he searched your face and body for more injuries; the sight of your wound hurt him deeply.

How could Obi-Wan do this to you? How could anyone do such a thing to the chosen one's wife?

"Are you-are you-"

"Ani," you tried to calm him down breathlessly "just my leg, nothing-nothing else."

Anakin scooped you into his arms as gently as he could, you held onto him for support, moving one of your arms around his neck, your tear-stained face hiding in his chest, his heartbeat thumping against your ear comforting you.

"I thought you were dead," Anakin croaked, carrying you away, his robes hiding you in his arms.

"Obi-Wan came to me, he needed to know where you were so he could kill you," you admitted, "he told me that you killed younglings."

Anakin slowed down, you pulled your head out of his chest and looked into his eyes.

"Did you believe him?" Anakin asked, his tone harsh.

You paused for a moment, slightly afraid that Anakin might drop you.

"I know that you have killed children before," you replied quietly, "he told me that Palpatine is the sith lord... that you are his apprentice-"

"What do you think of Palpatine?" Anakin's eyes rummaged through yours.

She can't turn against me - she won't. I won't let her.

"I think that he's the only other person aside from me who has ever encouraged you to show your emotions, to use them to make you stronger."

Anakin's eyes fixed on your face like glue "what if he is the sith lord, and I have joined him? what would you think of me"

You sighed, closing your eyes, imagining the perfect life with your husband; you and him never in harms way, children of your own growing up without a clue of what it's like to lose a parent, to be a slave.

"I would encourage you to overthrow him, and together you and I can rule the galaxy,"

You opened your eyes, everything coming back to you, your father's death, how it felt to slaughter a whole family.

"make things the way we want them to be."

Anakin gripped onto you tightly, a prideful grin spreading across his face.

"Everyone turned against me but you." He said softly, kissing you.

"What if you hate what I become?" your boyfriend stressed, pacing up and down.

"I could never hate you, Anakin," you walked over to him, linking your arm with his metal one"I'll be with you through thick and thin."

tags: @autobotrosestark

[bnhamixjuice-sfw]

ANON REQUEST: Hawks, Dabi and Aizawa: spot an ex he had a bad break up with, he sees her walking around struggling to hold on to a bag of groceries while pushing a stroller with a toddler in it that looks awful lot like them, and the he awkwardly confronts them when the bag falls out of her hands.

Tags: Manga Spoiler, Mention of cheating, Angst to Fluff.

Hawks

“I’m so sorry Dove, I didn’t mean to–”

“Didn’t mean what? to deny that I’m your girlfriend in front of the media ‘cause you had a job agreement with the commission not to reveal me! okay Keigo you’re doing this for what reason exactly? Hero Reputation? More women you can use to cheat behind my back again and expect me to forgive you? I–I don’t want this kind of life anymore!”, you wailed in pure anguish roughly wriggling your wrist away from his firm clutch.

He felt suffocated when he needed to let you go for all the things that he did to hurt you, holding back the urge to chase you outside when you frantically closed the door, not looking back anymore on him. Leaving the top pro hero falling on his knees, lonely between these four walls of his house.

After all this time he can’t forget you, longing to see your face everywhere he goes even on pro hero awarding events or his usual patrol work with Endeavor looking for you through the crowds, praying to see your smile again that he misses the most.

His life was crumbling apart without you, but luck was on his side today when he spotted you not too far from where he was signing autographs for his fans while stealing some glances. As always, you’re still beautiful standing there.

Trying to fix your grocery bags while clasping the baby-carriage’s handle. He hesitated at first to approach you thinking you’re probably waiting for your husband to pick you up and your child. And that’s when a tuft of yellow hair popped out.

“Mommy look it’s Hawks, Awtoglaph pweasee awtoglapph”, his excited pleas reached Hawks’ ears. pointing his fingers towards your ex-boyfriend who waved a hand on both of you.

Soon red feathers clumped together on the ground, preventing your bag to fall.

“Wow what do we have here, a kid full of energy today, so where do you want me to sign your autograph?”, stooping down beaming a smile with his eyes crinkling behind his yellow visor making your child gasp in awe.

He knew instantly that his suspicion was right seemingly looking at his own reflection with those golden honey orbs and black lines on those eyelids and small bump protruding behind the kid’s shirt, red feathers similar to his, messily cramped inside.

“Ke–Hawks here… ”, almost calling out his first name when you handed him a notebook and a pen.

Slightly feeling his gloved hand against your palm.

“Hawks look I hab wings too–”

“Honey we need to go home now or else you’ll miss your favorite show again, now say bye bye to Mr. Hawks”, you interrupted, sneaking a warning glare on him not to tell him anything before gently freeing your child’s wings out from his shirt’s makeshift holes.

“Little fledgling I guess your wings were moulting, so did your Daddy tell you about it”

“Hab no Dawdy but Oh you see… Mommy Lov’ Dawdy so much that she booboo cries” you were shock-stricken softly hushing your child out of embarassment.

“Well kid make sure to tell your Mommy not to cry okay cause Daddy loves her so much, yes don’t forget to tell that to her every day I–”, he stammered with his voice started cracking, overwhelming him with emotions too easily, swallowing the lump forming on his throat.

“Your father loves you too kid trust me, and surely there’s not a single day he’s not thinking of your Mommy, his only Dove–Ah I think I’m taking too much of your time Miss I-I’m so sorry”, halting it immediately, muffling a few sniffles before finally signing his signature.

Your heart began thumping so loud, not expecting him shamelessly grabbing your hand, burying you into a warm embrace in public.

“Wait Keigo stop this, everyone’s taking so many pictures of you”

“No I don’t care anymore, listen Dove I’m so sorry and I still love you, come back to me please I promise I won’t hurt you again, I’ll do better this time just let me make up for it, and for our son”

You can’t blame yourself for giving in, accepting him wholeheartedly knowing this is what you promised to him once.

To never let your future child experience the same heartache he suffered from his past.

Dabi

He regret those cruel words that came out from his mouth the first time he was too fed up of your constant admonishment of putting a rest on his revenge against his family forever since you cannot bear to see him exhausting his body anymore, starting this heated discourse again between you.

“You always bring this up y/n every single day and it’s too annoying already, why are you siding on Enji too much Babydoll… come on just say it you really want us to have a perfect family, so cool to have a child with this debilitating quirk too right?”

Sucking your inner lips anxiously avoiding to tell him something about that last one, you felt his grip on your sholders constricting furiously waiting for you to answer him back, but your tears spilling from those precious eyes made his stomach churn in guilt realizing what he had done when you began screaming on his face that everything’s over, shoving him away and locking the door of your house shut.

He knew how much of a dick he was, the worst break up that’s been haunting him everyday with your terrified face forever etched on his mind

It’s been a long time since the last time he saw you after you moved from your old house and he cannot find you everywhere until today.

He saw you pushing a stroller on the side of the road and having a hard time balancing the bag of groceries on your other hand.

Perhaps you found someone better than him and additionally having a child; a normal child considering he’s not the father. that’s what he thought until something caught his attention.

Squinting his eyes, he was slack-jawed to find a familiar cerulean orbs and red hair on that young boy giddily calling you Mommy.

He took this rare chance of talking to you again by catching your bag of groceries that you clumsily dropped, your eyes met recognizing your ex-boyfriend instantly when he removed his mask. piercing eyes gazing down below observing your child’s similar features.

“Babydoll why didn’t you tell me about him, our son?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Dabi and refrain from calling me that nickname anymore, also stay away from MY son before I call the police”

You breathed heavily snatching back your grocery bag from his grasp, clutching the stroller’s handle in pure anger.

“Daddy you meanie, go home”, tugging his pants with those tiny hands.

It hurts you to see your own child begging for his father to go home, when you can’t even tell him how you often show his own picture to your child that’s why he recognized his own father easily, keeping him close to his heart and memory forever.

You can’t hate your only child’s father.

He was expecting him to cry on his intimidating face when he bent his knees down to look at his child closely, ignoring your earlier threat by patting his son’s head seemingly accepting this foreign fatherly instinct.

“Kid look I’m obviously a bad guy, I don’t want you to get in trouble so maybe next time when your Mommy allows me, don’t worry I’ll probably see you again next time pepperoni haired kid”, chuckling when he saw his son’s childish pout, letting him pinch his stapled cheeks annoyed at his nickname.

“Y/n this is goodbye then”, flashing you that thin smile noticing his lips quivering a bit as he stood.

Shoving both of his hands inside his pockets before turning around to walk slowly away from both of you ignoring your child’s tantrum cries calling for him to go back.

“Ssh… sweetie don’t cry okay–Wait Touya!”

He stopped on his tracks when you yelled his real name again, like how you used to call him that before out of endearment.

“We’re going to stay here from now on so same address, the usual okay knock thrice and use our anniversary day on pressing the doorbell and don’t forget our password, listen I’m doing this for our child only so you better show up tonight or I won’t ever give you a chance”

He disappeared quickly after that, and tonight he never failed to show up incessantly ringing the doorbell many times even greeting you that typical password; a kiss.

A yearning kiss, hands intertwining the moment you opened your heart once again.

Aizawa

“Shouta you keep missing my calls these past few weeks when I needed you the most, you barely have enough time to visit me when I was sick the whole week and now you’re late, fine I don’t wanna hear your excuses anymore”

Those bitter words pierced him like thorns, seeing you slip out that engagement ring from your finger and placing it on a table whispering those bitter words he doesn’t want to hear from you.

“It’s better if we end this relationship now before we regret something, I–I can’t imagine my future being married with you or even having a child with you who pathetically seek for time and attention from his workaholic father, sorry Shouta”, you covered your mouth trying to bite back your tongue from spilling about your unborn child.

Running outside the restaurant leaving him heartbroken that he can’t further speak out his words anymore because everything that you just told him was painfully true.

He doesn’t deserve you, blaming himself for not appreciating you enough despite of your effort of enduring the hardships of having a pro hero fiance who often risk his life for his students. A man who can’t even spend a time to take care of you.

Nevertheless, he wanted to mend back those strings that binds you to his heart, always pouring out his loneliness on visiting that Cat Cafe on his day off every week reminding him of memories you two share.

You often take him there to spend a date knowing he’s fond of cats and snapping lots of photos of him every time he ends up sleeping on the corner with cats huddling close to his face nearly suffocating him.

Keeping your engagement ring to him all the time was the only thing that calms him down whenever he’s in dire situation on his job, thinking how much he wish to meet you here again.

Unbelievably seeing you again one time, rubbing his weary eyes once and twice to know if it’s truly you. Indeed, he can’t forget that familiar caring smile of his beloved, finding you outside the cat cafe currently having a problem of organizing your bag of groceries.

“Mawmmy, neko pweasee I wanna touch it!”, your daughter began whinning clapping his hands to get your attention.

He can’t believe his own eyes when your child resembles him too much with that obsidian dull eyes and sleek black hair minus for that pigtail hairstyle but that scowl seems a carbon copy of his own.

“Wait Baby I–”

“I think you need help Y/n”

You were flabbergasted to find your ex-fiance taking a hold of your bag of groceries with his whip that was about to hit the ground and voluntarily offering his Neko tote bag for you which you persuaded him not to.

“Mawmmy pwease I want that too, Neko”, her tiny hands reaching out determined to get it no matter what.

“Baby no–”

“Well your daughter love cats so much, you can give this to her, please just a friendly gift”, taking out something from his pocket leaning down a bit to his side to rummage on that keychain, letting you see his necklace around his neck with that old engagement ring of yours dangling.

“Found it, here kid I’m not sure if you’ll like this”

“Aww Mawmmy have that too um…right Mawmmy, so no thanks Mister”

There’s no way you were married that’s what Shouta suspected when he saw you not wearing any ring, and obviously that cat keychain was closely similar to his anniversary keychain that you two bought for each other.

“Y/n I can drive you two back to your house if its okay–”

“Mawmmy please say yes”

You sighed in defeat not having a choice in the first place and also giving freedom to your child to spend time with her father who doesn’t know about this.

His car was still the same, sitting beside him and your child now sleeping behind after getting so tired ogling on his car’s cat accesories.

You chuckled upon seeing your daughter’s face on the mirror messily drooling, leaning slightly on your side to wipe the corner of her mouth.

“Darling is she our daughter”

“Eyes on the road Shouta, and yes so what will you do about it. Do you expect me to ask for any financial support from you oh maybe spending your precious time for our daughter that I can’t even get from you years ago”, you sarcastically uttered, stabbing him rudely with those truthful words he was unprepared to hear from you.

“I understand if you’re still mad at me y/n, but I just want you to let you know that I want to set things right first before asking you to forgive me. Because I don’t want to miss this opportunity again to tell you how much I wanted to talk to you or maybe to see you in your white wedding dress”

You can’t resist how determined he was to get close to you again, feeling his hand slowly making its way on you.

Giving back that engagement ring to whom it truly belongs, and that was you, a dream he wanted to come true despite it being too impossible.

Turning your head away to wipe your own tears, proposing for the second time that you have been waiting to hear from him all along.

“She’s your daughter Shouta and don’t you dare make her cry of I’ll scratch your face harder than what your cat does”

“That’s too kind of you, I mean my cat misses your deadly belly rub too, you named him Mr. Pickles right, well I’m sure he’d be thrilled to see his Mom again and his new sibling soon”,

You both exchanged soft giggling catching up on one another by starting the conversation about your lives and so on and so forth, and apparently your child was eavesdropping on both of you.

Your daughter muffled a “Pro hero mission success” after accomplishing her goal, peeking a bit to see you wearing that shiny ring.

She knew it the first time she saw that stranger recognizing him from one of the picture you often place under your pillow, her daddy.

Well she did inherit Shouta’s intellectual skills after all.

Do not repost this fic/headcanon.

Disclaimer: I don't own My hero academia nor its characters and plot.

[joheunsaram]

temper tantrums + cookies (myg)

Summary- Being a single dad is hard, especially when Yoongi’s daughter decides to throw a tantrum as he shops for groceries.

word count- 2.8k

pairing- dilf!Yoongi x Reader

rating- PG

genre- fluff, strangers2(maybe?)lovers, meetcute

warnings- YOONGI GROCERY SHOPPING, single fatherhood fears and insecurities

a.n- Omg my first fic on this new blog after the whole debacle. Thank you for everyone who followed me and bore with my clown self. I hope you enjoy this! Yes, I’m a simp for when Yoongi went grocery shopping in New Zealand. sigh.

A huge shoutout to @hobisbeautifulass​ for helping me plot this and @oftenderweapons​ for helping fix the ending! 💕

As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌

perm taglist- @cheesecakes-randomshitz, @aroseforyoongi, @hobisbeautifulass​

-

Yoongi groaned as he strained to open his eyes. He could barely stifle a yawn as he leaned on the stroller slowly moving it through the aisle. His phone rested atop of the little tray attached to the handles, buzzing incessantly as messages from his company bombarded the screen. Could he not have some rest even on a Sunday?

He sighed as he stopped in front of the cereals, examining the boxes, trying to decide between his craving for Froot Loops and the healthier choice of Muselli. Knowing that he would be eating said cereal for dinner this whole week, he opted for Museli, missing the days he had enough time to cook a proper meal for himself.

“Daddy! Up!” Hyunji’s lisp pulled him out of his reminiscing as he watched his two year old daughter wriggling around in her seat, arms up to coax him into carrying her. Rubbing his eyes and trying to balance his grocery basket, Yoongi crouched to her level as she impatiently smacked her hands on the foam bar in front of her. He couldn’t help but smile at her - her tiny eyes almost hidden by her rosy chubby cheeks, hair a mess as she had managed to pull one of her pigtails out. 

“We’ll be home soon, Ji,” he cooed at the chaotic love of his life, placing his basket on the floor to fix her shoe that had seemed to come undone for the eighth time this morning. However, his placades were lost on her as his daughter used her future swimmer lungs to scream, her shrill voice making him wince, but surprisingly working much better than the two iced coffees he had chugged earlier.

With a groan, Yoongi settled on the floor, trying to dodge her little feet that were kicking at him. He really couldn’t wait till she outgrew her temper tantrums. Reaching into his hoodie pocket, he pulled out a small pack of tissues, trying his best to get rid of the snot and tears that flowed down her face as she angrily fought him, her tiny fists colliding with his forearms.

“Ji, please. Calm down,” Yoongi sighed, trying his best to pacify his screaming daughter, while throwing apologetic glances at the shoppers passing by. “Okay, you want to be like that? Then let it out of your system. Go ahead.”

Resigning himself to his fate, Yoongi sat cross-legged in front of her stroller and rubbed his eyes. He knew Hyunji would calm down soon enough, and with the week he had he didn’t care if passerbys thought he was a terrible father for letting his daughter cry her eyes out in the breakfast aisle. In fact, he didn’t care that he himself was close to tears. He felt overwhelmed and bitter, the words of his mother ringing in his ears. “If only you had worked out your issues, she would be here, and you wouldn’t be alone!”

He laughed deliriously, the weeks of shitty sleep catching up to him as he pleaded with his daughter to calm down, bribing her with candy he never bought her to no avail. “Please baby, just half an hour and then we’ll be home,” Yoongi negotiated, his eyes glassy as Hyunji shrieked in response, causing him to startle and bang his shin against the wheel. He hissed in pain, grimacing with his head against the foam rod as she pulled at his dark hair. He loved his daughter, truly from the bottom of his heart, but he couldn’t wait till she started preschool next week and he could get some reprieve. 

“Do you mind if I try?”

Yoongi followed the voice to see you crouching next to him. Dressed in a printed dress with little dinosaurs all over it, and a pair of red glasses that matched your shoes, you didn’t seem like you worked at the store, but Yoongi couldn’t care less. He didn’t know if his exhaustion was blurring his mind, but you seemed like the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He couldn’t stop staring at you, from the slope of your nose, to your hair that fell into your eyes. Had Yoongi really been that deprived of adult human contact that just looking at you made his heart pound in his chest and heat rise to his cheeks? Wow, your lips were really pretty. They looked so soft, crinkling a little on the side when you spoke. Oh shit, you were speaking!

Yoongi was broken out of his thoughts by your voice. “What’s her name,” you asked, tentatively reaching out towards the angry toddler.

“Hyunji.” 

Yoongi felt as if he was in a daze, he couldn’t stop staring at you as you reached out to lightly touch Hyunji, your fingers grabbing her little hand in something akin to a handshake. He watched in awe as Hyunji immediately stopped her screams to look at you curiously, her head tilted to the side as she sniffled. Yoongi would be upset that his daughter seemed to be more calm with a stranger than him if it weren’t for how the soft smile on your face made him lose his train of thought. It made your cheeks puff up a little and he felt his heart skip a beat at the small movement.

“Hey Hyunji! I’m Y/N. How are you today,” you said, as Hyunji finally responded with what Yoongi had spent the whole year teaching her, moving her hand away and looking wary. Yoongi felt pride surge through him knowing that his daughter wasn’t going to let a stranger act all buddy-buddy with her. However, Hyunji’s rejection made a small frown appear on your lips, and Yoongi mentally willed his daughter to be nice to you. 

You weren’t deterred however, and with another smile, you reached into your bag draped across your torso to retrieve a small stuffed toy shaped like a chocolate cookie type character. Yoongi’s eyes couldn’t help but follow the strap of your bag as it rested between your chest, perfectly aligned with the slight cleavage afforded by the dress. He gulped, trying to shake the flurry of thoughts that ran through his mind like how his face would feel if it was the strap. 

“No handshake? Okay. How about a toy,” you asked, grinning and shaking the character in front of the toddler, your smile getting wider as she responded immediately reaching for the toy. So much for stranger danger training. Your voice turned high pitched and cartoonish as you pretended to be the toy, Hyunji immediately lighting up and laughing, the switch an instant 180. “Hi Hyunji, I’m Shooky! Nice to meet you!”

“Shooky!” she exclaimed, waving the toy towards Yoongi to show it to him gleefully. Yoongi smiled, cooing at his daughter. Turning towards you, he found you smiling at him, the same soft smile that made him senseless earlier. He wanted to thank you for saving him, for calming down his whirlwind of a daughter, but his mouth seemed to have a mind of its own.

“Is that a cookie? She’s not allowed to have cookies.”

“It’s a toy…” You seemed confused, rightly so, your eyebrows scrunched together as you blinked slowly, trying to decipher his meaning. Yoongi should’ve clarified, apologized, but he wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t double down.

“Shaped like a cookie. That’s a slippery slope.” He waved towards his daughter who seemed to be bashing the poor character against her leg, giggling. He realized his type of humour was not everyone’s cup of tea and so when he watched your lips down turn, he started to apologize only to be stopped by you smirking at him.

“So you’re saying a toy shaped like a cookie is a gateway drug to junk food,” you said, an eyebrow raised at him. Your wit made him cackle, an unattractive, loud scream of a laugh that immediately turned him red in embarrassment. God, he was such a loser! He cleared his throat conscious of the way you chuckled in amusement. He really needed to get out of the house more often.

“I’m sorry. I’m tired. Thank you, really. I had resigned to sitting here for a couple of hours.” He smiled up at you as you stood up and watched Hyunjin in endearment, who was now thoroughly engrossed in ‘Shooky’. Following your lead, Yoongi made to stand up, only to realize one of his feet had decided to fall asleep on him causing him to stumble back with a groan.

“Need a hand?” You raised a hand towards him, one that he took graciously, if only to feel how soft your hands were, and they were so soft. He groaned a little as he stood, taking extra care not to pull you to the ground with him, regardless of how much he wanted to. Jesus, Yoongi. Relax, dude.

“Thanks. I swear I’m not as old as I seem,” he deadpanned as you giggled a little at his bones cracking loudly.

“I didn’t think you were old.” You shrugged in response as he thought of ways to keep the conversation going. However, his mind was blank. You looked at him expectantly, and in true awkward fashion, Yoongi averted your gaze, instead looking at his daughter. His jaw dropped at the sight before him as he squinted at his offspring who seemed to be dozing happily in the stroller, clutching the cookie under her chin.

“She’s asleep… How did you do that?” He was dumbfounded. There was a reason Yoongi still seemed like he was sleep walking even two coffees down. Hyunjin had been having trouble falling asleep for weeks, waking him up at all hours of the night. The doctor said something about her delayed teething, but at this point Yoongi was convinced she just hated him for never letting her have sugar. 

“No biggie. I work in childcare. I’ve been trained.” He looked at you in awe and you chuckled, patting him on the shoulder in an attempt to break him out of his daze. Could he fall in love at first sight? He was beginning to think, yes.

“Yes biggie! She never falls asleep,” he exclaimed, running a hand through his hair. “What kind of witchcraft…” He looked from you to his daughter, still in disbelief as he muttered, earning a hearty laugh from you in response.

“I’m Y/N, by the way,” you said, smiling as you closed your bag and fixed the strap, and he had to physically restrain his eyes from zeroing in on your chest again. He wasn’t going to lie, his eye balls felt strained at the effort.

“Yoongi. But seriously, thank you. I promise I’m not a bad father,” he provided, the shock now wearing off into anxiety as he thought about how much of a crap father he seemed to be so amazed at seeing his daughter fall asleep. You shook your head at him, a small sound of disapproval leaving your lips.

“I think you’re a great father, Yoongi. Don’t worry, toddlers are hard.” The praise made his heart stutter as blood rushed to his ears. The way you softly affirmed him made him feel seen. He didn’t know how much he needed to hear that, and to be honest, he felt a little emotional.

“I… thank you. I’d like to say you’re wrong but yeah, especially alone,” he spoke quietly. He didn’t know why he specified he was single. Maybe to see if you were as interested in him as he was in you. He didn’t think it was possible. Who would want to be with a single father who couldn’t even handle his own child in a public space? He felt his insecurities gnaw at him as he descended further into his head. His sudden silence may have alarmed you because before he could say anything, you touched his shoulder gingerly, the feel of your fingers scorching him through the thick layers of his sweater.

“Well you’re doing great. Professional opinion.” You smiled and Yoongi wanted to cry. Why were you so nice? He missed nice. He hadn’t had nice in a long time. He wanted to say something, ask you for your number, but that seemed too forward so he settled for gratitude, as you picked up his basket and handed it to him.

“Thank you…”

“Cute,” you giggled quietly. “It was nice meeting you Yoongi.” 

Much to his disappointment, you started walking away. He really shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. Hope always led to dismay.

“You too, Y/N. Really great.” He sighed, almost wistfully, resigned to the fact that he would probably never see you again as you waved and turned around.

“Say bye to Hyunji for me.”

“I will.”

----------

He looked at his daughter with pride as she stood in front of him, her dark hair in two slightly lopsided braids, that had taken Yoongi an hour to master through youtube tutorials. He couldn’t help but feel a little choked up as she excitedly pulled on his arm all but running towards her classroom, her frilly pink dress swishing with each step. He couldn’t believe she was old enough for school already - preschool, but still. 

Yoongi tried to stop his brain from conjuring up pictures of her future; her graduating, her walking down the aisle. No, screw sleep, he didn’t need it. This was too fast. He held her hand tightly, reluctant to let her go as they reached the door. 

What was he supposed to do now that she was going to be gone all day? He could almost feel himself tear up at the thought of how much he was going to miss her, and she was still holding her hand. Maybe he could ask the teacher if he could just sit and watch. Sure he had to be at his home office to start work in thirty minutes, but he could just say he suddenly fell ill.

However, all thoughts as well as his breath left him as his eyes fell on a familiar figure - the beautiful, kind woman from the grocery store. You. 

This time around you were dressed in a dress that had little planets on it, looking a lot like Ms Frizzle with your hair in a top knot. Yoongi didn’t know whether to be ecstatic that universe had given him another opportunity to talk to you or be depressed because he knew he would never be with.

“Yoongi!” The joy and surprise in your voice made his face crinkle in a goofy smile that he had absolutely no control over, as he fiddled with his fingers, Hyunjin quickly abandoning him at the first sign of new friends. She definitely did not inherit her stellar social skills from him, as he stood there unable to form a response other than a shy utterance of your name.

“I was hoping to run into you again,” you said, beaming blindly and Yoongi blushed.

With his heartbeat accelerating, he realised that those eight words were probably the best he had ever heard.

-

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“I’m not telling you again.”

If you’re still doing the sentence prompts?

CW: Vampirism, blood drinking, minor whumpee (OC is 17), captivity, referenced dehydration and starvation, forced turning, wishing for death, religion

1905, somewhere outside New York City

-

"Come here, little one."

The boy presses himself back against the cold stone wall behind him. There's a cuff around one ankle, dull iron, and a chain that scrapes the floor when he moves. He swallows, shaking his head rapidly from side to side. Dirty hair falls dull over eyes that sparkle vibrant green in the near-total darkness.

He can't see her.

But she can see him.

"No." His voice is a whimper, a nearly-animal whine, pure fear. "Please, please, please no, not, not, not tonight, not... not tonight, please."

She sighs, chuckling fondly, and pulls a match across her palm to light the lamp that hangs on a hook down here. The wick catches flame, and now he sees the pale, pale skin, the deep red lips. The predator's gleam in glinting dark eyes.

She crooks a long, sharpened fingernail . He can see the hem of her dress, lace-edged, the skirt that sweeps up to curve her hips, the narrowed waist, the high neck. He's stared at illustrations of the Gibson girl put up in shop windows in stores that sell to richer women than he's ever known. She's an echo right down to the soft, upswept hair.

Like a man with an expensive coat hiding a knife, he thinks, that he means to slaughter you with. She's a monster who looks like an angel.

"I'm not telling you again. I'm hungry," She says, and gives a little pout. "I want you to feed me."

He pulls his arms in close, shaking his head again. Tears already threaten. He's so tired, all the time. There is never time enough to heal from one bite before the next and the next and the next-

"Come now, little pet. It's just one last time." Her voice is gentle, but he knows they lie. They all lie to get their fangs in you.

"What, what, what d'you mean?" The boy has a thick country Irish accent, still. Fresh off the boat, they call him when he tries to speak to the boys his age in his tenement. Half of them have accents like his, or thicker.

Not that he'll see any of them ever again.

Not since his parents-

Not since-

He chokes on a sob he can't quite hold back, turning at the waist to rub his fingers over the rough, cool stone. It helps. The motion, the texture, it helps. It calms him down, a little.

Everything here is wrong.

He misses home. He misses the green hills that were never so full of dirt ground in as the city streets are. He misses the air that didn't smell like offal day and night. He misses a world where it was all less overwhelming. He misses a world where his parents were alive to help him understand it.

"Oh, you're sad tonight," The monster wearing a woman's face says, taking the lamp off the hook and carrying it closer. The shadows dance off her cheekbones, they seem to give her a sneer rather than her soft smile. "Let Malorie be of aid to you. Tell me what you need, sweet boy."

"Can, can, can I have a-a drink? Miss?" His voice is hoarse from thirst, and he's parched. It has rained for two weeks and he's drunk the rainwater that leaks in through the walls, plus the few sips they give him each day. Food is a bit of moldy bread, cheese, maybe a thin soup. It isn't enough.

They don't seem to notice, or care.

But then food or water is something they left behind, isn't it?

"Hm." She steps forward, closer to him. Her eyes flash in the dark, reflect the bit of light, and he cringes back from her fangs as she smiles down at him. She moves to crouch before him, and sets the lamp down on the floor beside her. "Is it thirst that drives you, little one?"

"Please." His lips are chapped and cracked. He tastes blood, sometimes, and spits pink-tinged spit to blend with the soil beneath him. He tries to look pitiful - it's not hard to succeed. "Please. I'm, I'm so so so so... so thirsty, ma'am, just a cup, please-"

She looks down, unfastening the line of tiny pearl buttons on one sleeve, then rolling back the fabric to expose her wrist. A stray curl of dark hair falls down to brush her perfect cheekbone.

"Ma'am?" He can't understand what she's doing - none of them had ever started to undress in front of him before. "A drink, ma'am? Please?"

She looks up, and her eyes gleam like a cat's in the dark. Her teeth are very very white. He can see the venom shimmering on her fangs.

"A drink you want, you beautiful boy," She says, and he stares with uncomprehending horror as she moves her wrist towards her own mouth. "And a drink you shall have."

She tears her own wrist open with her teeth.

He gasps and tries to get up to run, but he's weak and dizzy and when she yanks at the chain that binds his ankle to the wall he goes down hard and lands with a thump, the breath knocked out of him.

While he wheezes air into lungs that won't take it, she pushes him onto his back and forces her wrist against his mouth, her other hand pinching his nose shut.

He cries out in horrified disgust against her cold skin and the thick brackish fluid that flows over his tongue. She stares down at him, avid, with huge eyes.

"Drink, sweet boy," She murmurs. "Quench your thirst."

He must drink or suffocate, and his body chooses for him. He swallows even as he gags, and swallows again, and she lets go of his nose so he can frantically pull in air, tears streaming to pool in the shells of his ears and soak into his grimy, dirty hair.

She is a blur through his terror, but her smile is written in stone in the yard beside a church.

"My turn," She says, and when she buries her fangs into his neck, the boy screams again.

And then goes limp as the venom takes hold, and the vampire begins to purr, her fingers gripped like claws into his shoulders.

There is no pain.

Only the fear.

I'm going to die, he thinks, and stares up into the darkness that wipes out even the lamplight. It seems like it's growing, within him and without.

His mouth is full of blood. It tastes better than it did when first she made him drink. The heaving of his stomach stops. He starts to swallow willingly, even eagerly. Nothing has ever quenched his thirst quite like this. It doesn't taste at all like he'd thought.

I'm going to die.

He wants to go home.

He wants more to drink.

He's so hungry.

He wants more blood.

When she pulls her wrist away, he whines and tries to grab at it, to pull it back. She laughs, swatting playfully at him.

"Not yet," She chides, wagging a finger. She licks her open wound and it closes. She laps at the remaining blood and he tries to sit up, to get some too, only for her to push him down again.

Then... pain.

Agony hits, a bright stripe straight up his spine, and he arches away from the ground, throwing his head back and screaming loud enough to bounce off all the walls. It recedes, and then comes again, through his stomach this time. The throb moves to his hips, thighs, into his calves and all the way to his toes.

He curls into a ball on his side, but the pain keeps growing. It takes over. He can't feel the floor he lays on, only the constant spark of nerves blaring alarm. He feels like he is being crushed under a rock, burned by the hottest fire, stabbed with a hundred knives.

"Wh, what, what's happening-... t'me?!" He coughs, and then sobs as the action hurts more than anything else ever has in his life.

"You're dying." She picks at her fingernails, already bored.

He turns to look up at her as she stands, licking her chops like a cat. Tears run down his face, and every time he blinks the air seems pink-tinged. "What...?"

"That's your body shutting down. You know, you're very fortunate." She wipes a droplet of the boy's own blood from the corner of her mouth and then sucks her finger clean. "Very few people get to be born twice. I'll see you tomorrow night. I would prefer if you didn't call me your mother."

Before he can even begin to form a question, she turns to walk away, hanging the lamp up on its hook as she goes, blowing out the flame.

The pain ripples again, he is broken like a brittle shell against the shore. His very bones feel as though they're tearing apart inside him.

He's going to die here.

And he won't stay dead. His parents will wait in Heaven for a demon son who will never be allowed to step foot into Paradise.

He gulps in air, lungs burning, and tries to remember the prayer through his panic. "Our Father, wh-who art in Heaven, hallowed be be be Thy Name-"

His throat blisters even saying the words, and when he tries to cross himself, his hand shakes too much, his joints crack and shatter. He can feel it, he can hear it. They crack and reform, break and bend.

He screams.

He screams until his throat is raw, until it bleeds, until his heart stops beating and blood runs from eyes and ears and from under his nails.

He whispers every prayer he's ever known when he can. He begs for salvation, he begs to be spared eternal bloodlust, he pleads for something other than damnation. He prays he'll see his parents in death and not become a monster like this.

His prayers are swallowed whole by darkness.

He dies, but he does not die for long.

-

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