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[softdefault]

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[theglassofmiddleearth]

Hello! Could you write about Task Force 141 with a reader who is blind but navigates through echolocation? Clicking her tongue, producing sound.

Imagine a blind read who uses echolocation Task Force 141 due to traumatic injury.

Masterlist

Y’know how Elsa said ‘The cold never bothered me anyways.’

Well, the same could be said for Reader! but for the dark.

Imagine a Reader! who uses echolocation to navigate.

Reader! Has saved many a mission with her talent. Her unique skill has earned her the nickname of Death Angel (those alien creatures from A Quiet Place)

Reader! gets called Angel by Soap and Kyle quite often. When off duty she wears a white blindfold, signifying impartial justice. (just like the ones angels are depicted to wear). However on missions? Reader! holds one over Ghost for intimidating.

The first time they met Reader! dressed for combat even Ghost was unnerved. Reader! had arrived decked out in black, wearing a dirty grey mask (it's clean) over her eyes. There was a red substance that looked to be seeping through what would be her eye sockets.

‘Uh, you must be Sargent L/N.’ Captain Price said in a slightly unnerved tone that only Ghost picked up on.

‘Yes sir that's me. I’ve been lent to the 141 for this specific mission. I hear you need someone to navigate the catacombs.’ Reader! nodded, pointing a thumb at herself. ‘I’ll get you guys through to the other side to your extraction point. Just stay quiet and don’t shoot anything unless I say so and we’ll be fine.’

‘Sorry te ask this lass but, can ye see through yer blindfold?�� A thick Scottish accent filtered into her ears.

‘Ah, I can’t see actually, I’m blind.’ She grinned, lifting up her blindfold a little so they could see just a hint of the of the wound area.

A collective slight gasp rang through the group, while the largest man stayed quiet.

‘It’s not a big deal, one of the missions we went on, my task force was captured and long story short, it’s easier for me to concentrate when I can't see.’ She shrugged, giving them a sly smile.

‘What do you mean?’ The lowest voice grumbled, a welcomed sound to Reader!’s ears.

‘Ah, you’ll see.’ She smirked, tapping under her left eye.

‘Come on, let’s get going. It’s going to be sundown soon and I don’t wanna catch the crazies.’ She turned, turning towards the steps that led down to a city of bones.

The tunnels were close, the smell was of old pages, dusty and damp. The 141 swept their lights across the piles of bones with tensed bodies. They were nearing the shut off point.

Reader! raised a hand, causing the group to come to a halt.

‘My time to shine boys.’ She whispered, ‘Lights out.’

The men reluctantly flicked off their headlights and switched to night vision. Reader! hummed, and let out a breath.

‘Don’t speak unless it’s important.’ Reader! mumbled, before she turned back towards the now bleak, dark tunnel.

The sound of boots quietly scuffing the ground, echoed the tunnels, rang in the men's ears,

Click clickclick click click

The men froze, swinging around with their guns raised.

‘That’s just me guys.’ The comforting voice of Reader! called out from the front.

Price and the rest turned around, slightly embarrassed.

‘Right. Carry on.’ Price muttered, gesturing for the men to follow her.

Reader! continued clicking, navigating the tunnels and avoiding people whenever possible until Reader! suddenly holds up a closed fist.

In front of them to the left side was a room, dimly lit.

Whispering could be heard, muttering and a very soft chanting of at least 5 people.

Reader! clicks one more time before showing 5 fingers, then gestured for them to stay low and sneak past.

The group silently slipped by the open entryway, ignoring the people inside dressed in red robes. Their orders were to get to the other side and if they could help it, not shoot anyone.

After successfully slipping past the unknown group, Reader! continued her clicking, sweeping her gun, across the stones. The group squeezed through holes, ducked below low ceilings and trudged forward. They didn’t encounter any more people. Reader had successfully led them out of the catacombs and back to the surface undetected.

The entire group breathed out a sigh of relief when they emerged from a sewer grate, the moon was high.

‘Not bad guys! Just in time too! Lets get the hell out of here. I need a shower.’ Reader! allows Captian Price to take the lead to the extraction point, following behind the rest of the group.

‘Mate, she’s like a bat, that was so cool. A velvety voice complimented her quietly.

‘Ye blasted fool, she can hear ye. That’s her whole thing.’ The Scottish voice groaned, a loud smack resounded.

‘I like your blindfold.’ The lowest voice said, seemingly amused.

‘Thanks LT I like yours too.’ Reader! smiles, giving the voice a thumbs up.

‘Hm, very good.’ The man rumbled in mirth.

[buck-star]

Valentines sparkle

Overhearing a conversation between two girls, Logan doubts himself a lot more than he should. Trying to have you see and feel the sparkle of Valentine’s Day.

Pairing: Worst!Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2.082 Words

Warnings/Tags: fluff, softness, insecurity, mention of past sexual content, petname [trouble, baby]

Authors Note: Thought about a little something for the Event Loveuary by @lubdubology and @yxtkiwiyxt, so here you are. Have fun and enjoy. There are one or two scenes where I could definitely think about a little something, if someone is interested. Divider made by me.

Events: Sweetheart Bingo [Row One-One | I’m yours]

Masterlist | Logan Howlett Masterlist

His eyes roam over the aisles of the shop; everywhere is pink and red stuff, heart-shaped or with hearts and flowers on them. His heart clenches as he notices another girl with her best friend walking to the little spot with chocolate and little boxes made for rings or cards — concerts, trips, everything.

“Maybe he’s asking me then. I saw he looked at these little boxes last time we went shopping. And today he went out, telling me he has to get something from the office. The office isn’t open today,” she says with a wide grin on her face. Her best friend giggles slightly, looking at the boxes as well; her eyes light up when she sees a small one she likes.

“Hopefully I will be that one. It’s so pretty,” she mumbles and lifts a small box in a heart-shaped form with small roses all over it. She holds it almost in her friend's face, who’s looking through the others to find her favorite. “Does he even know what you like? I mean, he’s a man after all, isn’t he?”

Both of them laugh. The girl who’s talking about her boyfriend nods. She’s reaching for another little box and holding it out. It’s a rose-shaped box, and there are a few little roses too. “He does, mostly. But look at this box; you can let them engrave your names in it.”

They put the boxes away again but keep standing there. The girl who’s pretty sure her boyfriend is going to ask her to marry him points at a few more things, telling her friend she needs that too. While her friend always shows other stuff that she likes and keeps asking if the man really knows what her friend likes.

“Lo? Baby?” Your soft voice comes from behind him when you place some sweets and drinks in the cart in front of Logan. He’s turning around, a slight frown on his face, but he tries to force a smile on his lips and nods. “Hey, you good? You look… I don’t know, confused, unsure?”

“Mhm, ‘m fine, trouble,” he grumbles and turns back to the cart and shoves it in front of himself through the aisle. You walk next to him, keeping a close eye on your boyfriend, who does not look as good as he tries to pretend. “Need something else?”

You shake your head and lead him to the cashiers. Logan nods; he’s not too much into shopping, and the conversation between these two women made him feel uncomfortable. An aching feeling in his chest while he thinks about the relationship with you.

“Baby, can you please—“ you giggle when you pull the cart closer to you. He narrows his eyes, looking at you, then at the cashier, and nods. Logan didn’t notice his tight grip around the cart or that he remained in his spot while the people before you already walked out of the shop.

“Sorry,” he mumbles and helps you with the groceries. You notice Logan’s narrowed eyes, his lips in a thin line, and his jaw clenched harshly. It’s a wonder that he doesn’t crush the eggs he’s holding in his hands, or the bottle he’s handing you.

You stay quiet, not wanting to make him feel more uncomfortable. So you just pay and let him push the cart out of the shop to the truck. He’s grumbling under his breath, his knuckles turning white with the force he’s using to hold the handle of the cart.

“Lo, you know, whatever it is that bothers you, you can talk to me. You don’t have to break the cart to get out of your mood, and you don’t have to swallow it all,” you say softly, placing your hand on his thick, hairy arm. His green eyes drop to your hand; he loves how small your hand looks compared to his arm, but he keeps his cold expression. Logan lets his eyes trail down your arm, over your shoulder to your face. His eyes lock with yours, and he nods.

“I know, trouble,” he whispers. Of course, he knows. You sit down at night with him to make sure he knows that he’s not alone. You’re staying up all night with him when he has nightmares and is afraid to get back to sleep. “But it’s nothin’.”

You nod, not convinced by him, but you don’t want to push either. So you just put the groceries in the car. Logan keeps grumbling and mumbling under his breath, his eyes moving back and forth between the shop and you, but he doesn’t say a word.

The drive back home is quiet except for the music, the only sound next to the engine that fills the car. Logan acts like he’s focused on the street, even though you feel his eyes on you every now and then. They are piercing, intense, and something is bringing deep inside of them, a fire he doesn’t dare to let out.

His lips part, but he stays quiet. You look out of the window, watching the people and houses pass by. Logan and you live outside of town, in a little wooden house that offers the two of you a comforting and relaxing place without too many people around.

He parks the car and gets out; you follow him. Logan’s intense stare is still on you when you grasp two of the paper bags to carry them inside. He does the same, but instead of just two paper bags he takes six and brings them into your shared house.

Shopping with your boyfriend is pretty easy since he can carry so much more, and you don’t have to walk back and forth to carry all the groceries. You kick the door closed and shrug off your jackets and shoes, walking into the kitchen where Logan is already unpacking all the groceries.

“Trouble?” He asks, his voice shaking slightly, and he keeps his back to you. You hum, letting him know he can continue talking. “‘M sorry. I just… I got lost in my thoughts.”

“I know, you’re an open book for me, baby,” you reply, walking over to him. You wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him from behind while you push your head underneath his arm to look up at him.

Logan looks down, smiling softly at you. You’re just too adorable when you do that. His heart skips a beat, but the flutter is soon replaced with the heavy uncertainty again. “There were two girls who talked about one of the girl's boyfriend. She said she thinks he’s asking her to marry him, and her friend asked her to… if he even knows her because he’s a man,” Logan whispers, turning around in your warm embrace to face you. You’re tilting your head up, listening intensely to your boyfriend. “I don’t want to disappoint you with not getting engaged on Valentine's Day… and I… I don’t know if you… thought I would ask you to, or if I know you to buy you something you would like; I’m a man too.”

You chuckle softly; this man is just too adorable for his own good. “I don’t expect you to ask anything like that, Lo. I don’t even expect a present from you for Valentine’s Day or any other event,” you say softly, bringing your hands to his firm chest.

“But I wouldn’t even know what you like anyway,” he grumbles, doubting himself. Even though he should know better, even though you know better, you let him speak without interrupting him. “I’m your boyfriend; I should give you something. I should know what you love, what I could get you as a present.”

You smile, snaking your hands from his chest up to capture his cheeks and pull him down, his face only inches away from yours. “You remember what you got me for Christmas?”

Logan’s lips curl into a soft smile, and he nods his head immediately. His green eyes light up, and he grabs your waist tightly, pulling you closer. “This big stuffed animal, it doesn’t even fit in our bed, but you love it, trouble. Of course, I know what I gave you for Christmas; how could I forget that sweet smil—“

His eyes widen when he notices; he knows you. Logan knows what you like. He gave you a present for Christmas that made your smile bigger than he has ever seen a smile and your eyes were brighter than the sun when you unwrapped it.

“I know you… I know what you like; that’s why you mean?” He asks. You nod with a soft grin on your lips. “But that’s different; you told me you liked it. But—“

“You don’t have to read my thoughts, Lo,” you mumble. Logan shakes his head; he would love to read your thoughts. He would love it to make sure you always get what you want.

“But… even though I know what you like. Or you tell me what you like. Celebrating such a day…? It feels just like I don’t deserve to celebrate it. I don’t think I deserve you, and yet we want to celebrate it?”

“We don’t have to. We can also spend the day like every other day,” you say softly, but Logan shakes his head. He doesn’t want to disappoint you. Maybe you wouldn’t be, but he would be at himself for acting like it’s nothing special. “But you deserve love, so much love, so don’t dare to doubt it, Lo. But if you doubt it, then I will prove to you that you’re wrong. Because I love you, every day. Not just on Valentine’s Day.”

“I love you too, but you love special days; you love Valentine’s Day…” he mumbles, remembering the conversation you had on a date where you saw some hearts and roses, and it reminded you of Valentine's Day. You confess that the sparkle of the day wasn’t there since you and your ex-boyfriend broke up, but you still liked the thought of it and hoped someone would bring back the sparkle one day. “I want to bring back the startle for you. I want to be the one who gives you a reason to love Valentine’s Day, to love every day with me.”

“I love every day with you.”

“Trouble… I want to make it a special day. So shut up and be good for me,” Logan grumbles, a soft smile on his plump lips. “Do you remember the little cabin with the sauna and the hot tub?”

You nod with a grin; the sauna and the hot tub were a lot of fun in every way you can think of having fun with Logan. “Mhm… how can I not after having to clean the whole sauna because someone thought about spilling his cum everywhere but where he said he wanted it to be?”

Logan blushes, his fingers digging further into your skin, and he leans his head down. “You’re playing with fire, trouble.”

“It’s true. You said you want—“ you tease with a smile but get interrupted by Logan, who narrows his eyes slightly. He digs his fingers further into your skin, pulling you closer with a low grumble in his chest.

“How about we keep your pretty mouth shut before I have to stuff it?” Logan growls, pressing his plump lips on yours to shut you up. You chuckle, kissing him back softly while you try to push your tongue through his lips. Logan groans into your mouth, not letting you dominate him in the slightest. “We are spending Valentine’s Day in that cabin, in that hot tub, in that sauna. With movies, sunsets, sunrises, and food. Maybe some chocolate and ice cream, too.”

And so you do; you spend Valentine’s Day with Logan in that pretty cabin. Most of the day in either the hot tub or the sauna with Logan buried inside of you. Or on the couch in his arms while he turns on one cheesy movie after the other. Logan even asked you to let him help you cook the dinner for the two of you, even though he spent most of the time kissing your neck and keeping his strong arms tightly around your waist while he mumbles praises about how good you feel and how perfect you are. And yes… he helps you to bring back the sparkle of Valentine’s Day, not just for you, but also for himself.

Wanna see some more of Logan and Trouble? Let me know if you have any ideas.

Taglist: @rogersbarber @loki-laufeyson68 @etherealdisneyvillainness @winterschildren8 @pono-pura-vida @kimmie113080 @sergeantbarnessdoll @sebastianstanisahotmf @mercurial-chuckles @holylulusworld @randomawesomeperson102 @looking1016 @multiversefanfics @kpopgirlbtssvt @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @alexxavicry @gremlin-girly @grilledcheesewithjalapeno @iris-xoxo-juhu @fckedupandbeautiful @hisredheadedgoddess28 @princesscore-angel @fandomxo00 @blackhawkfanatic [tag yourself]

[aaagustd]

friends & lovers | jww (m)

title: friends & lovers pairing: jeon wonwoo x female reader genre/rating: fluff, smut, best friends to lovers,  idiots to lovers; 18+ summary: Sometimes the love you’re searching for has been right beside you all along. Patience is the key…the right moment will present itself eventually. wc: 2.2k warnings: swearing, unprotected sex (reader is on the pill), restraints (wrist pinning), grinding/dry humping, clit stimulation, slight orgasm control, cumshots, crying, begging, soft sex, pet names, nipple play, cum play, aftercare release date: february 9th, 2025; 9:23pm est author’s note: Hello!! This was a bday gift I wrote for @beomcoups a while back. Huge shoutout to @hobeemin for beta reading it for me at the time. I’m currently moving all of my old content here, so if you’ve read this before don’t be alarmed lol. I’m the original author.

playlist: My Boo by Usher ft. Alicia Keys | Focus by NCT 127 | ‘bout you by Seventeen | Let Me Hold You by Bow Wow ft. Omarion  | Tonight I Celebrate My Love by Peabo Bryson & Roberta Flack | Candy by Baekhyun | By My Side by JUNNY | Boo’d Up by Ella Mai | Like You by Ciara & Bow Wow

masterlist | inbox | join my taglist | read on wattpad | read on ao3 | divider credit

“People are staring at us.”

You both giggle as the carousel makes its final round, shyly peeking over your shoulders at the crowd of people watching you. Somehow, Wonwoo managed to get the ride operator to start it up with just you two on. 

Both of you hopped from seat to seat like you used to do when you were kids, and your parents had to threaten to take you home if you didn’t remain seated. Although you’re adults now, you’re still fond of the old habit.

“So, let them,” you shrug. “Maybe they’ve got eyes for the cutie on the horse.”

“Can you stop?”

Wonwoo throws his head back when he laughs and clutches his stomach, giving you a glimpse of the smile you haven’t seen in months.

Ever since he and his girlfriend broke things off, he’s been cooped up in his apartment, feeling down and not wanting to be bothered. You’re glad he accepted your offer to go to the fair and take his mind off things. He says he’s fine and looks better than he did five months ago, but you know that something’s still bothering him, and you hope that tonight you can dig deep enough to find it.

“Why would I? This is fun.” 

You both step off as the ride stops, feeling high with adrenaline. Suddenly, you feel his fingertips at your sides, and he playfully tickles you, making you shriek and squirm. 

“Wonwoo!”

On-lookers coo and clutch their chest, mainly older couples and romantics. Neither of you even notices the admiration they have in their eyes until someone grabs your attention.

“You two are such a beautiful couple. May my husband and I have a picture with you? You just remind us of our younger selves,” a lady in her golden years asks with a genuine smile.

Immediately, you begin to break the news to her, but Wonwoo interferes.

“Oh, ma’am, we’re not—”

“Sure! I’ll take it. I have long arms,” he insists, taking her phone when she hands it to him. Wonwoo throws his arm over your shoulder and holds it high enough to capture all four of you. He takes the picture but doesn’t stop there. “Now one for us.”

After returning the woman’s phone to her and her husband, he pulls his device from his pocket and takes another, but this time he brings you in a bit closer. He wraps his arm around you a little tighter and whispers in your ear as he snaps the picture.

“For new memories,” he says to you.

You release a shaky breath when you disperse, and you can’t do anything but smile and wave as the couple bids their farewells. 

You never could explain the butterflies in your stomach whenever Wonwoo would be so close to you in that way. It always seems so intimate, but you wouldn’t dare say it out loud. You know it’s only those buried feelings that are causing you to react this way and nothing you should feed into.

When you’re finally alone, you turn to him and ask, “So, what now? Are you ready to go?”

“A little bit,” he answers. 

“Well, don’t let me hold you up. I’m probably just gonna go grab something to eat until my roommate’s done fucking her boyfriend. I had fun, so thanks for coming—”

You pause when Wonwoo shakes his head.

“I said I was ready to leave here,” he informs. “Not leave you.”

“Oh, okay. So umm, where do you wanna go?”

“Aren’t you hungry?” he quizzes. “We can go grab something.”

You open your mouth to speak, but he continues.

“Or…we can meet at my place, and we can order something. You can stay over if you want.”

“Really?”

“Yup. I don’t mind,” he assures.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to rush you—”

Your mouth shuts when he gives you a look, but your smile grows when he turns away and starts walking toward the parking lot.

Both of you get in your vehicles and drive towards his apartment, the tingling sensation still coursing through your veins. You try your best to calm yourself before you get there, but as you get out of your car, your legs are wobbly and shaky, indicating that you are far from okay.

Wonwoo turns to you as his door opens.

“Wanna shower?”

Gratefully, you sigh. “Yes, please.”

After a shower, slices of pizza, and a couple of movies, you and Wonwoo lay awkwardly in his bed. Both of you scroll through your phones, trying to ignore the thick tension in the air. There’s something on his tongue; you can hear it. You want to ask him, but you don’t know how.

Eventually, you start to believe it’s just your nerves. You haven’t hung out like this since before his two-year-long relationship, so you figure you just need some re-adjusting. You wiggle your way towards him so you can familiarize yourself with the feeling of being so close to him.

It isn’t long before his fingers start playing in your hair, making your eyes slightly heavy. You roll over on your back so you can look at him and try to stop yourself from falling asleep so quickly.

His smile greets you and leaves you slightly curious.

“What?” you giggle.

“Nothing, I was just thinking.”

“About?”

He sighs. “I missed you. That’s all.”

When his eyes begin to wander, you follow them once they’ve set on a particular sight. It just happens to be your thighs, and you start tugging down your borrowed shirt upon the discovery.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, more to himself than anything.

You clear your throat. “Wonwoo, I’m glad you’re feeling like yourself again, but I don’t think I can be your rebound. I’m not—”

“What? No, love. It’s definitely not like that. It’s just…Fuck it.” He shifts in his spot so he can speak to you face to face, leaving you no option but to look at him, even though you’ve been avoiding eye contact since you got here. “I need to tell you something.”

“Okay, what is it?”

“It’s about the breakup…why it happened,” he explains.

You blink a few times. You never knew the reason behind the split or how it happened; it wasn’t your place to ask. Now that he’s finally telling you, there’s an uneasy feeling growing inside of you.

“We broke up because we liked other people. She wasn’t over her ex, and I…”

“And you?...”

He takes a deep breath as if he’s about to lay it all on the table.

“I had to be honest with myself and admit that I’m really in love with my best friend,” he confesses.

Your eyes widen, lips ready to run a mile a minute, but he speaks before you do.

“I thought about this before, but the timing was just never right. And now…” he sighs. “I don’t know. I just feel like we’re on the same page, but then again, you’re looking at me like I’m crazy.”

“Wonwoo, I—”

“I know. You don’t feel the same.”

The disappointment in his voice gives you all the courage you need to come clean, and you do so before you can change your mind.

“I do feel the same,” you admit. “I’ve loved you since we were teenagers. I just never knew how to tell you.”

He seems a little shocked after hearing this.

“Really?” Wonwoo asks, his thumb tracing circles on your hand.

“Yeah.”

Your best friend just stares at you, not saying anything. You hold his gaze and never break eye contact. Moments go by like this, until eventually, his lips begin to hover over yours. They become more inviting the longer you lay there waiting for something to happen.

However, Wonwoo toughens up and makes the first move on your behalf. His mouth presses against yours delicately, and he lowers his body so that you can run your hands through his hair.

You envelop each other and get lost within the first shared kiss between two best friends who have been denying their love for one another for over a decade. The pit of your stomach goes into a frenzy as the butterflies rise and flutter wildly.

Dizziness clouds your mind as you’re swept away by the feeling. You’re light as a feather, so high that coming down seems impossible. 

It doesn’t help that Wonwoo’s lips have become greedier, and his desire is growing by the second. Your legs part to allow him in the space, and he takes the opportunity instantly. Your wrists get pinned above your head while he slowly begins to grind his crotch against yours.

A moan slips out, and he takes the chance to invade your mouth with his thick muscle. Your tongues begin exploring each other’s crevice, and you become drunk off his taste. You can’t get enough of him but the need for oxygen exceeds your lust-driven fantasies.

“I want you,” you say without much thought. Your breathing is labored and rough, but you still try to speak.  “I need you.”

“Fuck, same. But…”

“But what?”

Wonwoo shakes his head. “No condoms.”

His voice oozes with need, and his bulge is straining against his shorts. He’s as desperate as you are, but he’s trying to hold back.

“We’re good on this end. It’s okay,” you assure him. “Are you?...”

He nods. “Yes, of course. I haven’t since…”

“Well, can we?” you try again. “Please?”

“Okay, baby.”

Wonwoo lets go of your wrists and pulls down his shorts, letting his dick spring out freely. A small gasp escapes you when his length slaps your thigh. You lift your head to see it and instantly become mesmerized by its girth. You crave it and want it to fill every inch of you just like you’ve always fantasized about in your room alone.

“Like what you see?” He smirks when you nod and starts to run the tip up and down your slit, coating it with your arousal and secretly stimulating your throbbing clit. “Let’s see if you can take it.”

When he slowly enters you, your mind goes completely blank. You arch into him as he bottoms out, and he holds you and places kisses up your neck.

“Wonwoo,” you call, and he smiles against your skin.

“Ready for me?”

“Yes, please. I want to feel you.”

Wonwoo’s movements start strong, and he makes sure to hold you in place while he thrusts into you, preventing you from flying off the bed. You cry his name over and over with each powerful snap of his hips.

He lifts your shirt and exposes your breasts to his greedy mouth, taking his time with each stiffened peak and making your eyes roll back from the multiple sources of pleasure you’re receiving. 

The coil inside you tightens until it can no longer stand the pressure, and you blurt out a warning to inform Wonwoo of your orgasm.

“Wonwoo, I’m so close!”

“Me too, baby,” he moans in your ear. You run your nails down his sweaty back to ground yourself because it feels like your soul will leave your body any minute. Wonwoo goes deeper and deeper until you can no longer stand the build-up growing inside of you. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

And on his command, your body gives in, and the pleasure takes over you. Tears roll down your cheeks, but Wonwoo kisses you before the salty droplets can reach your trembling lips. Your entire body is set aflame by the heat coursing through you. The intense feeling leaves you a panting mess beneath Wonwoo, and you just lay there as he fucks you through the rest of your orgasm until he finally reaches his release.

“Fuck, where can I?”

“Anywhere you want,” you answer. “I don’t mind.”

He can only nod as he pulls out and paints your stomach with his warm cum. Wonwoo uses the tip to smear his arousal and spell his name on your skin, making you giggle and slap his arm.

“You’re nasty,” you tell him.

“Anywhere you want… I don’t mind,” he mocks but still leans down to kiss you. 

You pout when he pulls away and disappears into his bathroom for about a minute. When he returns, you’re grateful to see him with a warm washcloth and a new shirt for you. He cleans you up and helps you change before he turns out the lights and joins you in bed. Neither of you say anything at first, but eventually, he can’t hold his tongue anymore.

“I really am in love with you. I would have never done this had you not asked. You’re more than a rebound—”

“I know that, Wonwoo. We’re good, okay?”

You turn on your side so you can hug him, and he nestles in your embrace.

“So, are we keeping this a secret or…?”

You release a breath before you answer, absentmindedly playing in his brown locks. You think about your answer for a moment, and then you reply.

“As much as I want to keep you all to myself… I’ve waited all my life to call you my boyfriend.”

“So what does that mean?” he asks shyly.

“It means…” You tilt his head so he can look at you. “If anyone asks, I’ll tell them the truth.”

Wonwoo smirks at you and returns to his position buried in your chest. He whispers as he drifts into his slumber.

“That’s my girl.”

And you couldn’t agree more.

[captain-huggy-bear]

"How dare you talk about my future husband like that…"

Pairing: Clayton Keller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Clayton is feeling self conscious about his eye since his injury, you are not having any of it.

Notes: I've been noticing that Clay's still got some bloodshot and damage to his eye and just wondered if he feels a little self conscious about it (even though he shouldn't because he's so handsome.)

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

Clayton is staring at himself in the hallway mirror when you get home from running some errands. Turning this way and that, long fingers pulling at the skin around his left eye where it’s still somewhat bruised and swollen. The eye that is still bloodshot and damaged from the puck he took to the face a few weeks ago. It’s been a slow to heal problem, one he seemed to not be bothered by, until now.

When he lets out a rough, heavy sigh and glances over at you with a frown, you know somethings wrong before he even starts to speak. It’s all in the set of his shoulders, in the downturn of his mouth, the way he’s not smiling at seeing you back home.

"I look fucking awful right now." 

The comment has you dropping your shopping bags to the floor, not caring too much about your shopping, hands falling to rest on your hips as you glare at your boyfriend. Your handsome, wonderful boyfriend who had just dared to call himself anything but. 

"Take that back right now." Clay rolls his eyes at you, at the harsh tone of your voice and the way you’re standing like a disapproving parent. He knows he looks awful and doesn’t want your pity, his eye looks like someone’s burst it and the skin around is all weird mottled colours, sickly yellows and greens. It’s ugly. Disgusting. He’s surprised you’ve been able to stand looking at him the past few weeks and he doesn’t want your pity, your false reassurances. 

"But, I do, my eye is so fucking messed up still...fucking ugly." The words are spat out, like they taste bad and they certainly leave a bad taste in your mouth as you close the short distance between the two of you, hands falling to his wrist, landing over his bracelets as you tug until he looks at you. Your thumb brushing against the delicate skin of his wrist. 

Some of your anger, your bite is gone the moment he looks at you because he’s so…so sad, you can tell that Clayton genuinely feels like his eye is ugly, like the bruising, the bloodshot nature of it all, makes him any less wonderful. You’re not used to him being self conscious or sad, he’s always so level headed. It’s usually you in his spot and him in yours.

"How dare you talk about my future husband like that…" Your voice doesn’t have any of the bite that it might have done a few minutes ago, in fact your voice is quiet and soft as you look up at him. Your hand slips from his wrist, fingers twining with his to hold his hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

"Y/N..." He groans low in his throat, deep and scratchy, head tilting and falling to his shoulder. He doesn’t believe you, you can tell, he thinks you’re just trying to make him feel better and that’s just not on. 

A strand of his hair falls forward from where it had been slicked back, you reach up with your free hand to push it back and out of the way, taking the opportunity to cup his face after, fingers rubbing at the skin around his eye gently. 

"I mean it. You're not ugly, it's not possible. The only thing I think when I see your eye is that I hope you're not in pain..." That’s all you’d been concerned about for the past 3 weeks, that Clay was comfortable, that every time you kissed him you weren’t causing him more pain. The idea that he wasn’t as handsome had never even crossed your mind. You’re not actually sure it’s possible for Clay to be anything but handsome.

“You don’t have to say stuff to make me feel better, baby…it’s okay, it’s ugly and it’s fine.” 

“Clayton John Keller.” You snap out, hand cupping his cheek more firmly and turning his eyes to look at you, really look at you as you step further into his personal space, “Stop assuming i’m lying. I have never lied to you, not once.” It’s something you’ve never felt the need to do around Clay, even when you first started dating…it didn’t matter how bad the situation, you knew that Clay wouldn’t judge you or yell at you, so you’d never felt that panic, that need to hide anything from him and you certainly weren’t going to lie about this. “You could lose an eye, you could have bruises across your entire face, a broken nose, split lip, and I would still think you’re the most handsome man on this planet, Clayton Keller and I am not lying about that.”

“C’mon, baby, you can’t seriously tell me that this,” Clay gestures to his eye, to the big red blood spot across his sclera, “is attractive?” 

“Why not? I…” He raises an eyebrow at you when you stop yourself short and you work up the bravery inside you to admit something you’ve kept quiet, “I actually think…this makes me a terrible person by the way and I'm sorry, but I actually think you look hotter injured.” You close your eyes tight, scrunching up your features, before opening one eye to check his reaction.

“What?” He’s stumped, looking at you like you just told him the president was an alien or that chocolate was actually made from insects. Clay’s mouth is open, jaw dropped just slightly, brows furrowed, blue eyes confused and it’s adorable, even if you feel embarrassed about your confession. 

“Look, I know it makes me a terrible person but there’s something about you covered in blood and bruises…” 

A smirk starts to grow on Clay’s face once your words sink in, the closest thing to a smile you’ve seen from him since walking through the front door. His blue eyes gleam with a sort of twisted delight, a mischief that makes your stomach buzz with butterflies, as his dimples start to show on one side of his mouth. 

“...Is that why you practically jumped me after the Winnipeg game, sweet girl?” You don’t even realise he’s corralling you, moving you until your back hits the hallway wall and he’s leaning over you, forearm pressed against the wall beside your head. 

“Shut up…” You murmur it, unable to do much more as your body fills with giddy, nervous energy (the good kind), as your face warms and your toes curl because of how he’s looking at you, all half-lidded eyes and a toothy smirk that makes you want to scream like a teenage girl. How he ever thought he was ugly you can’t comprehend when he makes you feel like you’re combusting right now.

“...You still think I'm handsome?” It’s teasing, mischievious as he leans ever closer, until your only response is a high pitched giggle that gives you away because fuck, he’s so hot…you’re not sure how you nabbed him, what made him pick you of all people, but you’re thankful for whatever convinced him you were the one.

“Baby? Do you think i’m handsome?” He asks again because apparently your giggles aren’t enough of an answer or more accurately because he hates you and wants to torture you even as he smiles down at you all dimples and teeth.

“I always think you're handsome…especially when you smile like that.” 

“C’mere,” It’s silly how he always says that, but he’s the one that moves towards you. Clay’s quick to close the distance between you, slanting his mouth over yours into a sweet but firm kiss, it lasts longer than you expect, long enough for your hands to make their way into his shoulder length strands, long enough for him to practically press you into the wall,  “Thanks for keeping me in check, baby,” He’s practically murmuring it against your lips, not pulling away any further than necessary and you consider this an achievement. That you’ve taken his mood from self conscious and dower, back to teasing and sweet, back to standard Clay. 

“You’re welcome.”

“Just know I'm never going to forget that you’re a little freak who thinks I'm hotter when I'm bloody.”

“Clay, I swear to God!”

[cambankromyy]

THE ISLAND LOOKOUT (pt.10): get a room - (smau & irl au) childhood bsf!rafe cameron x thornton!reader

series masterlist; general masterlist; taglist

warning/an; kinda? implied smut/sexual content. i think real real smut is coming in ch.12... AFTER midsummers

part 9 - part 10 - part 11

you pull into tannyhill, the headlights cutting through the driveway as you park. the drive from the chateau was quiet, the kind of calm you didn’t realize you needed until you finally had it, especially after almost being caught with jj.

sarah’s already out of the car and heading toward the front door, phone in hand. "need to grab a few things before dinner," she says without looking up. you just follow her inside, not even bothering to answer. you can hear her moving around in the kitchen as you take off your shoes and toss your bag onto the couch.

it’s quieter than usual. too quiet. you glance around, the house emptier than you’re used to.

"where’s everyone?" you ask, scanning the room.

sarah doesn’t even glance up. "wheezie day. ward and rose took her out."

you nod, not needing any further details. you’ve learned enough to know the deal with wheezie and her little trips.

you don’t ask about rafe, though. "oh, i think he’s with topper at the club," sarah adds, clearly not caring enough to offer anything else.

you just shrug. it’s whatever. not like you’d want to hear any more about them tonight.

dinner’s laid-back, comfortable. nothing extraordinary, just easy chatter and the usual back-and-forth. it’s simple. you laugh, maybe share some stories. by the time you finish eating, you're full and content, ready to crash.

you drop sarah back off at tannyhill after dinner, settling into your bed as soon as you get home, scrolling through your phone. the house stays quiet, though you can hear the crashing waves outside and the occasional sound of footsteps outside. at some point, you hear the front door open. voices—muffled, indistinct. you figure topper and ruthie are back, a little earlier than usual— 10 pm. maybe drunk and stumbling, but then the voices fade, and you don’t think much of it.

until you hear it.

a sound. a very specific sound.

your brow furrows. you sit up, listening closer.

moaning.

you immediately groan, flopping back onto your bed. ugh. topper. gross.

it wouldn’t be the first time. he and ruthie were shameless, and unfortunately, the walls in this house weren’t soundproof. you sigh and grab your phone, fingers already moving before you can think twice.

you put your phone down, staring at the ceiling.

it’s fine. you don't care. it’s just rafe. and sofia.

it shouldn’t piss you off as much as it does.

you do not care that rafe is here. you do not care that he’s with sofia. you are completely indifferent.

that’s why you go about your normal night. that’s why you act completely normal as you brush your teeth, change into your pj's, and definitely don't press your ear against the wall to see if you can still hear them.

(you can. you hate it.)

when you get into bed, you try to go to sleep, but your brain is racing. you grab your phone.

sarah doesn't text back after that, probably falling asleep.

you should do the same. but you don't.

the next morning, you wake up early, which is unusual for you. but you refuse to let last night make you weird. you go downstairs to get coffee and pretend nothing happened.

and then you see them.

rafe is sitting at the counter, staring into the void, looking like he didn’t sleep at all. sofia is standing in front of him, digging through the fridge like she owns the place, casually sipping from his water bottle.

topper and ruthie are there too, sitting at the kitchen table, lost in their own world as they eat breakfast. topper’s half-asleep, shoveling eggs into his mouth like it’s the only thing keeping him alive, while ruthie scrolls through her phone, nudging him every so often to show him something. they don’t even glance at you when you walk in.

which is fine. you don’t need them to. you just need to get your coffee and go.

you grab something from the fridge, acting casual, pretending that nothing about this morning is off—that nothing about this bothers you. you brace yourself for something nauseating, some gross display that’ll make you want to walk into the ocean. but then you actually watch them.

sofia’s hand trails over rafe’s shoulder. he doesn’t even react.

she leans in, saying something in his ear, probably something flirty, and he just nods absently, barely paying attention.

when she kisses him, he doesn’t even move forward. it’s all her.

you shouldn’t be, but you are. you’re happy. overjoyed that he could care less about sofia—but it feels so wrong to think like that.

you snap out of it, grab your drink, and practically skip out of the kitchen, knowing sofia is just a stand in. for who? you don't know. but some part of you, a feeling buried deep inside, wishes for it to be you.

tags: @italk2god @angelicameron @marleymarleymarleymarley, @queenvane64, @raeven-marie43 @idiotussupremus @sereneera @yesshewrites1 @inlovewithchriss @ethanthequeefqueen @amterasuu @popou61 @drewsstars @yannew @anothertimegirl @flvredcas @yootvi @mrsdrewstarkeyy @niaunofficial @cooper8224 @rafegetinmybed @pogueprincesa @6r4cie @adalia-lovelace @bee-43 @drewrry @masongetinmybed @defnotayonna @lcversvoid @my-name-is-baby @lolasangelz @polli05927 @laniirackssss @rafecameronswifeyy @starsval @hypnotizedstarkey

[ghostgirl-22]

hiii I was thinking about the opposites of popular tropes and how they’d play out,, and instead of only one bed maybe too many beds?? so then I thought about pat and art getting a hotel booked for a tournament where they have separate beds (and maybe even a couch in the room too, just to really show that they don’t NEED to sleep together) but the beds are like bolted to the floor so they can’t be pushed together. they try and fall asleep like that, and maybe pat is successfully able to but some point in the night art wakes up anxious and hard and has no other option but to shake patrick awake and get some TLC!

I love the opposites of popular tropes thing! Lol

I once saw a picture of an airbnb with 3 separate twin beds lined up next to each other some place in Italy and immediately thought of ATP going on vacation there saying “we need a place that will sleep three please” and getting that. No threesome for you. Lol. This is a mess and hardly proofread but I hope it amuses you.

CW: 18+ NSFW

——

So Art and Patrick are with a small group of US boys national tennis champions all playing in an international tournament in Italy. They’re staying in hostel style housing, Art and Patrick are roommates but there’s just way too many beds in their room. There’s like five beds. Two bunk bed set ups and an extra twin all the way across the room. All the furniture is nailed down.

In the past few months at school Art and Patrick have been oddly conjoined. Art is so used to laying down in their dorm room. Patrick needs to be an inch away from Art’s face at all times when they’re talking. One night they were up late talking and Patrick just shoved his bed closer. Since then they still haven’t bothered to push their beds back. It was almost three months ago. But it’s fine they still have their separate space even with the beds together and Art kinda likes it when he’s in the room without Patrick cause he spreads out like he’s in a queen.

Regardless Art thinks this setup for the next two weeks abroad is amazing. The room is huge and they get to have it all to themselves. Each of them with more than enough space compared to their tiny room at Mark Reballato. Plus being the only boy at home he’s never even had a chance to use a bunk bed like his sisters got to. He claims the top bunk and they spend the day out exploring with teammates so they don’t fall asleep and remain jet lagged for the start of the tournament.

They’re beyond exhausted by the time they get home at 8pm. They’ve been up since 2 in the morning their time. Even with so many extra beds they still end up sharing one bunk set up, Art on top and Patrick at the bottom. Art gets out of the shower and Patrick takes his turn Art climbs into bed expecting sleep to take him quickly. But surprisingly he’s still awake when Patrick gets out.

He watches as Patrick gets dressed and then turns off the light. He’s restless after the lights go out. He imagines it’s the awkwardness of being in an entirely different place. A whole new environment. As tired as he is he just can’t fall asleep. He hears Patrick’s soft snores an hour later and sighs. He climbs down from the top bunk. Patrick is breathing shallow, side sleeping with half of his body leaning up against the wall. Art slips in carefully next to him.

“Wha—“ Patrick stirs.

“I can’t sleep man, move over.” Art whispers. Patrick sighs and scoots even closer to the wall so Art can curl up next to him in the twin bed. He falls asleep right away.

He wakes up in the morning with Patrick’s arms around him, his nose buried against Art’s neck, spooning him. He’s hard, Art can feel it. He untangles himself and gets up for the bathroom. Patrick stretches and sighs waking up and they don’t talk about it. The day continues as usual.

The tournament starts that afternoon. They play doubles against a Dutch team, twins. They’re decent and if Art had a worse doubles partner he might feel a little worried, but he and Patrick take them down pretty easily. They spend the evening out with teammates, exploring Rome, the Pantheon and the Trevi fountain. They eat too much carbs for dinner and have gelato for desert. Patrick finishes Art’s.

Art thinks by the end of the night he’ll be exhausted enough to fall asleep right away. He doesn’t use a top bunk this time. He gets into the bottom bunk on the other side of the room. Patrick across from him. Maybe it was being up high that had him awake and anxious. But again after they turn the lights off Art is awake and restless for almost two hours. It doesn’t matter which way he tosses or turns. He sighs and sneaks back into the bed with Patrick.

“I knew you’d miss me,” Patrick smirks, he’s awake this time as Art shoves him over.

“Yeah right, I think I’m just not used to Italy yet.” Art says.

“Yeah, okay.”

Art rolls his eyes and settles into the tight space next to Patrick and falls asleep easily. He dreams about Patrick, they’re playing tennis, singles, hitting the ball back and forth and back and forth in an epic rally. Moaning as they do it. Moans getting louder with every stroke of the racket. Breathing getting heavier. In the morning he’s waking up, his boxers sticky and soaked with cum, blankets tangled up around them, he’s got one leg thrown over Patricks heated thighs. Patrick has an arm over Arts chest and he’s still asleep.

Art hurries out of bed, hoping to clean up before Patrick gets the chance to make fun of him for having a wet dream at this age. But Patrick knows. He pushes the bathroom door open while Arts in the shower so he can piss in the toilet.

“What were you dreaming about last night?” He teases pulling the shower curtain back so he can look at Art. Patrick’s hair is a mess of sleep, his clothes all disheveled and the side of his boxers have a little spot where Art stained him too.

“It was nothing…being in a new place probably…please I’m sorry okay?” Art snaps dragging it closed again.

Patrick chuckles. “So not fair. If you were gonna get your cum all over me we could at least do it the fun way.”

Art shivers thinking about the last time they jerked off together. Younger but still too old to be doing it sitting across from each other on their beds. Art realizing he wasn’t imagining anything, that he was getting off on watching Patrick alone. He panicked and refused to do it again after that. God, he hopes he didn’t say Patrick’s name in his sleep.

He comes back to himself and realizes he doesn’t hear Patrick’s steady stream anymore. “Don’t flush,” Art says quickly because Patrick loved to play that game when they were younger at school so the water would go instantly hot.

“Fine dude, just hurry up. We’re late.”

They make it to the courts on time. Progressing through the tournament. They beat one team after another even as a few of their teammates from the US are eliminated. Every evening their sponsors hold an event where they get to explore Rome. The Spanish steps, the Vatican. And by the end of the week Art has tried sleeping in every different bed in the room including the one Patrick claimed. Much to Patrick’s amusement because he always ends up back in bed with Patrick. And every morning with the limited space of it being a twin and the inability to move any of the beds closer he’s more tangled up with Patrick than he’s ever been before. He’s smelling him and feeling him and practically cuddling him every night and sleeping like a baby.

Embarrassingly he has two more wet dreams during the week one in which he wakes up midway through horrified to realize he’s grinding on Patrick’s thigh. To which Patrick jokingly says “dude we should just start fucking at this point.” Before rolling over with a loud groan and going back to sleep.

Art is humiliated. Not sure what the proximity is doing to him. He doesn’t stay up too late thinking about it because Patrick’s snores lull him back to sleep. And Patrick thankfully doesn’t bring it up in the daytime.

By Friday, they’re probably the only Americans that made it to the finals and they don’t play again till Monday.

The legal drinking age in Italy is 18 which Patrick insists they take advantage of. They go out bar hopping. Showing ids to try any and everything. A couple of teammates from Nevada meet up with them and they all go to a club, flirt with Italian girls who barely speak English and end up near the basically empty Trevi fountain at 2 in the morning. Sharing cigarettes with 3 girls from the club. Outside there’s a small smattering of people. one guy thrums a Spanish guitar. An Italian couple singing along to whatever he’s playing on a bench near by. It sounds beautiful.

Theres another random couple, two guys making out against the wall. Art feels so tipsy he has to do a double take. Patrick smirks when he catches him do it and Art feels himself flushing.

The Nevada doubles team are drunkenly posing for pictures in front of the empty fountain while Patrick is asking for Italian lessons from the girls. He mispronounces words and it makes all three of the girls giggle. He points at Art to try it and when he gets it down the girl Patrick likes tangles her fingers in Arts hair and takes the cigarette from him. “So good and handsome. Maybe we go to bed and teach more things?” She smiles at him and Art nods.

“Yeah let’s go to bed,” Art grins at Patrick who rolls his eyes in response.

“I want to go to bed, come on,” Patrick whines, trying and failing another Italian pronunciation which makes them giggle more.

They’re not allowed to have anyone of the opposite sex in the hostel so they unfortunately have to say goodnight. The girls promise to come by the tournament grounds after work on Monday.

As they get ready for bed they’re both excited from the alcohol and the girls, giddy with nervous energy and arousal. Art doesn’t bother trying. He just gets in the bunk with Patrick. Patrick plays with his hair. “Show me how you say that word.”

Art smiles. “You have to be able to roll your Rs.”

“Know it all,” Patrick kisses him and Art’s eyes widen in shock. “Roll them, I wanna feel it.” Patrick whispers against his lips.

Art is holding his breath, so stunned. So hard. He whispers it.

“Again,” Patrick says. Art begins speaking and Patrick kisses him through it. Tongue slipping into Arts mouth. Before Art knows what he’s doing he’s tangled up, mouths pressed together. Hand down Patrick’s boxers wrapped around his big warm cock while Patrick is using his large calloused hands to jerk him off. Gasping into each other’s mouths while they get each other off. Art moaning his name. Telling himself it’s the girls that have him all worked up like this. Knowing it’s a lie. They come almost simultaneously and it feels like a relief from whatever Art has been feeling all week.

“Mm,” Patrick moans against his throat. “Better right? Now you don’t have to just dream about me.”

Art shivers. “How did you—was I—“

“Every night. Saying it in your sleep. I thought you were awake the first night honestly. Pressing up against me. I had to grab you to keep you still so I didn’t fucking do something I shouldn’t.”

“Fuck,” Art whispers.

“I mean I’m willing if you want to fuck me next,” Patrick grins.

Art has to laugh, incredulous. he’s just so confused. “The dreams were about tennis.”

“I’m sure.”

“No i promise. We were playing tennis but it…” he shivers remembering the way Patrick was moaning through his orgasm so similar to how he sounded in the dreams. “Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“So what now?”

“You close your pretty eyes and go to bed so we don’t sleep through brunch.”

Art sighs “I should clean up a bit,” and Patrick laughs.

“What?” Art demands.

“Nothing. It’s just kinda hilarious that all it took 5 beds and 6 nights to end up here.”

[star-suh]

The Cabin in The Woods

Johnny Suh x Male Reader

an: this is a short one.

—

johnny and his boyfriend planned to go on vacation to one of those cozy cabins in the woods, where you would be surrounded by wildlife and plants and the sounds of nature that could help to calm down even the most stressed person, “this would be a relaxing weekend” yn says with joy. but this plan soon would be scrapped because johnny’s hornyness augmented when he saw his dear boyfriend in black shorts and a sleeveless white shirt, “let’s go for a swim” yn said while running towards the lake but johnny just stood there, sitting with his mouth open and looking over his black glasses, “the fuck” he murmured. like a deer in headlights johnny kept watching yn swimming, how that white shirt sticked to his wet body, is like the shirt became transparent by how much of yn’s skin could be seen through the fabric. johnny was flustered to say the least, his little friend down there slowly grew in size “why you have to be so hot yn” he exclaims, “fuck!!” he yells while running towards the lake too. he jumps on it and splashes everywhere including yn, “someone’s eager to swim” yn jokes but then he chokes on his words when johnny emerged from under the water, now the tables were turned, this time yn is the one being in awe at johnny’s figure seeing through that piece of fabric, his sexy chest and toned abs… damn, such a fine man.

the couple tried to brush the obvious sexual tension with some games like swimming races or who could last more under the water, in one of these rounds is when yn managed to see johnny’s thick meat bulging in between his laughs, this made him open the mouth and by consequence he drank some water causing him to choke and go quickly to the surface to cough it out “oh my…. what the fu-”. “are you okay?” johnny asked, worried by yn’s well being, “what happened?”, “i think i saw a monster down there” he replies, “don’t be dumb yn” johnny said a bit annoyed, “don’t joke with those things”. minutes passed since that incident and the atmosphere turned a bit awkward but the older couldn’t take it anymore swimming towards the floatie in where yn was resting, proceeding to steal a kiss from yn who opens his eyes in surprise “what-” he says confused but johnny didn’t let him process what just happened when his tongue was already deep in yn’s mouth. johnny’s kisses were always rough and messy, something that yn liked, how the other man moves his tongue inside in the right places, that would be enough for yn to cum.

things escalated quickly when johnny got yn off the floatie and started humping on his wet clothed ass, drawing little sobs from yn who was biting his lower lip, “come here” johnny uses his big hand to move yn’s head closer and kiss him again. his meat getting bigger and bigger down there, yn could swear that thing would rip the fabric of the shorts apart by how massive it was, “do you want it?” johnny asks lowly, yn nodded “yes sir”, “that’s what i thought” the taller one says happily.

they didn’t bother to discard all their clothes completely, johnny just took off the sleeveless shirt and yn just the shorts and underwear, “you went commando?” yn asked when he saw johnny pulling his dick out by one of the leg openings, “i like it better without underwear” he winked at his lover. yn was now folded in a mating press with johnny pummeling into him, his big balls slapping against yn’s ass. “tight as always” johnny whimpered while yn tried to not cum right away. johnny’s meat went up and down, slicked in their fluids and some spit. “sho deep…” a dumbfucked yn murmurs, in this position johnny easily managed to fuck yn’s prostate, abusing it to the point he just goes dumb. “cum for me ynnie, cum on my dick” johnny commands, stroking yn’s dick that after some rubbings spurted his spunk everywhere including johnny’s chin, he cleaned it with his thumb and licks it “sweet as always”.

johnny didn’t stop fucking yn in that position until he reached his orgasm, nutting inside, “that was wild” he admits while gasping for some air, “yeah” yn barely speaks, his chest heaving up and down rapidly, is like johnny fucked the air out of him. the older then kneels and starts moving his tongue up and down yn’s hole and then putting it inside, “johnny what the hell?” yn mewled, pushing johnny’s head deeper with his hand, “i just wanna eat some cream” he says with a sweaty face, his hair sticked to his forehead and the surroundings of his mouth and the tip of his nose smeared in a mix of saliva and nut, “you know how much i love to creampie you but sometimes i wonder how it would taste it, but know i know” his smile with that disheveled hair and fucked up face made yn came once again, “you’re quite the milk fountain” johnny sad while nuzzling yn’s balls with his nose, “god i fucking love you so much” he says and stands up to kiss yn, “i love you too” he responds. the couple spend the rest of the day sleeping with yn cockwarming johnny’s cock.

[theocddiaries]

[Sonic and Shadow are comforting Amy, who is crying. Shadow hands her a tissue while Sonic holds her hand and rubs her arm.] Sonic: Come on, Amy, it’s okay. Think of about this way: it’s better to find out now than after you’ve been together longer. Amy: Yeah, but what about the time we’ve already been dating? I saw him as the man of my life, getting married to him and spending our lives together, and he talks about us like we’re just a fling? [blows her nose]: "Marriage is serious," he said… And what about us? Are we a joke or what? [cries] Shadow: Do you want to stay with us for a few days? Amy: No, no, thanks, but I don’t want to be a bother. Sonic: You’re not a bother. We don’t want you to be alone, overthinking. I know you. Come on, silly, come with us. Amy: No, no, really, guys, I’ll be fine. Shadow: If you're sure. Amy [gets up from the bench and takes a few steps, then stops and turns around]: Damn it, aren’t you going to insist a little more??? Shadow and Sonic: Oh, sorry… [they get up to hug her again and walk her to their place]

[jinmindeulle]

vulnerable | k. mingyu, j. wonwoo (3)

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 kim mingyu x fem!reader x jeon wonwoo

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 2 k

𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 angst, fluff | friends-with-benefits!mingyu, neighbor-and-highschool-crush!wonwoo | you decided! wonwoo is your choice.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 mentions about sex i guess?

mingyu is taking his time. wonwoo stays by your side.

• • ┈┈┈┈ ๑ ⋅ ⋯ ୨ ୧ ⋯ ⋅ ๑ ┈┈┈┈ • •

Your heart hurt. It really did.

But Wonwoo was right in front of you, and Mingyu had taken his damn time. You knew from a friend in common that his routine hadn’t changed much. He still met with his friends and attended his after-office get-togethers. He was doing fine.

But you weren’t. You opened his inactive chat at least six times a day. Sometimes you typed and erased, sometimes you just stared at it, hoping Mingyu started typing by the force of manifestation. It never happened.

“I can’t help but ask you, is everything alright?”

Ever since you got closer to Wonwoo, you would regularly visit each other. All it took was a minute-long walk from one corner of the first floor to the other. Now that he had a tiny and fluffy companion, you had more excuses to stop by when you got home from work.

“It’s complicated” you sighed, gently scratching the kitty’s neck.

“I like complicated” he chuckled, bringing his can of beer to his lips as he looked at you with attentive eyes.

“Well… I’ve got this friend who has been my best friend ever since college. We met when he banged on my dorm’s room at two in the morning because he was drunk and thought that was his dorm.” you giggled, reminiscing about that crazy first week as a college student. “He was everywhere I looked, and he seemed to like talking to me. We became close and he has been my rock for more than eight years. But last year, things changed a bit between us”

“You fell in love, right?” Wonwoo’s eyebrows rose.

“Kinda?” you shrugged, giving an awkward laugh “We started as friends with benefits, with some rules to follow. We could kiss and have sex. We could make it stop when one of us asked to. We banned jealousy and we were not exclusive…except-”

“You were being exclusive” he chuckled and shook his head “I don’t see the problem, though. If you two were fine by how things were going…”

“He was not” you sighed, taking a sip of your can so you could continue the story with a little bit more courage “He asked me to start seeing other people so we could follow that stupid rule, and he explicitly said ‘I don’t want us to be a couple’”

Wonwoo seemed to be contemplating where the narrative was heading before he asked “But he still wanted to fuck you?”

“We were not having sex every time we met up — that was what bothered him the most, I guess. Not because of the act in itself, but because he felt we were practically a couple when he came over, cooked with me, and cuddled to sleep instead of being all over each other”

“So…”

“We fought and he finally came over to apologize. But now we’re in this weird position where he doesn’t know what he wants and I’m waiting for him as if I were Rapunzel trapped in a tower. He knows I don’t see him as a friend anymore. But I don’t want to lose him if he chooses to make this end” you looked down to your lap, eyes welling up. Wonwoo shifted from his side of the couch and scooted closer, hugging you with his right arm so you could place your head on the crook of his neck.    

“You won’t lose him. It might be weird at the beginning, yes. But he needs you as much as you need him. Do you think he is willing to cut ties with you if he doesn’t choose commitment?”

“I guess he’s not” you mumbled, taking in Wonwoo’s scent to calm down your hiccup. 

“If he is the one, and you are his one, there’s nothing to worry about,” his low and calm voice had a magical effect on you, and as you felt the vibrations of his voice through his neck, you began to soothe your worries “ If you still think he’s the one when he’s still not ready to treat you as his girlfriend, maybe time will eventually bring you two together. And if time doesn’t, then… I’m still gonna be here” 

“You are an angel” you mumbled, feeling your eyes heavy. 

“Only for you”

. . . . . . . . . .

Three weeks. Exactly twenty-one days had passed, and Mingyu was still nowhere to be seen, or heard of.

Day twenty-two was your limit. You had to make a decision, even if he hadn’t made up his mind yet. It was killing you to know that he could come and destroy everything you had built over eight years, and you would remain with a broken heart until he decided to either mend it or turn it into ashes. 

You had to prioritize yourself.

We need to talk.

It physically hurt to finally type and send the text instead of erasing it. Your heart started pounding and you thought that it was about to explode, expecting an answer that took three and a half hours to come. And after you read it, you regretted even having the thought of sending that text.

I’ve got plans.

Hot tears traveled down your cheeks, frozen in place, holding your phone close to your heart. Who was that person? Mingyu would never, could never.

And yet he could. He sent those eight years of precious, heartwarming moments to the trash. All those nights you had stayed awake to help him on his projects, while you could have been working on yours. All those events you had been his plus one to help ease his nervousness when you could have stayed at home to study for your postgraduate course. All those kisses that had felt so real, so caringly true. 

It was over.

Dinner is ready!

I don’t know if you are coming but if you are, you better hurry.

[Picture]

Homemade, just how you like it 😌

At first, you thought that there was no way you could go in that state. You were just going to ruin that Friday night for Wonwoo. 

But after you rubbed your last set of tears away, you took a look at yourself in the mirror and decided that it was not too bad. Wonwoo had seen you worse back then. Also, you needed him. More than anyone else.

Even more than Mingyu.

So you answered.

On my way!

And left your apartment.

“Hi! Oh… What did he do?” the concern in his eyes made yours flood up with tears once more.

“I think he dumped me? I don’t even know if that’s accurate to what happened”

“Come in” Wonwoo mumbled, taking your frame under his long arm and embracing you as soon as he closed the door behind him. “Let it out”

“But the pizza is turning cold” you cried, face buried in his collarbone as he held you close, ruining his shirt with tears. 

“We’ll reheat it later,” when he kissed your temple, you felt how your heartbeat got faster, and how relaxed your breathing turned out. His scent always had the effect of a tranquilizer on you, and you were beginning to feel it little by little, from head to toe “Wanna talk about it?”

“I just need to forget him” 

And you were determined to do it. 

Plus, Wonwoo was making it so easy for you.

When you felt that you had no more tears to shed, he led you to his sofa, and Bomi, his cute kitten, quickly rested himself comfortably on your lap. 

“He knows you’re sad” Wonwoo smiled as he came back from the kitchen, a wooden tray with the two yummy-looking pizzas on top.

“He’s too cute” You kept yourself busy petting Bomi as you waited for Wonwoo to bring the wine he had promised.

“Is it too out of place on my part to say ‘Cheers’?” the man asked, giving you your glass and extending his your way.

“You’re the only one I would allow to do that” you softly giggled, clinking his glass with yours “Cheers.”

“Cheers” he chuckled, looking at you in the eye. 

. . . . . . . . . .

Six days after your now ex-best friend/ex-friend-with-benefits cut you off, he decided it was the right time to reappear in your life. And you thanked whoever or whatever was above that Wonwoo was holding your hand from the other side of the table when the phone lit up with Mingyu’s notification.

“He’s back” you mumbled absentmindedly, taking the device with your other hand and reading the text aloud “Sorry for keeping you waiting so long. I’m ready to talk now”  

Wonwoo’s face fell.

“What…what will you say?”

You sighed, and the first thing your eyes landed on was your and Wonwoo’s intertwined fingers. He was caressing and holding them with so much care that your heart skipped a beat. You raised your gaze to his eyes and laid your heart before you, just for him. For the one who deserved it.

“I told him to take his time, and I must own up to that. However, I never said anything about waiting for him to decide. He will understand that my thoughts and my heart belong to someone else now. Even if it’s soon, even if it has just started. I mean it when I say that I want you. Hell, I have wanted you ever since I was twelve”

“Wh-what?” he squished your hand, and you had to giggle at his response.

“I might have taken a break from being in love with you a couple of years ago. But ever since you came back to my life, it has felt the same, Woo. You might have changed a little, yes, but your kindness, your responsibility, your sensibility, and sensitivity are still the same — I fell in love with you because of those traits of yours. Not to mention your handsomeness.” 

It felt right. Wonwoo felt right.

“Why didn’t you say something back then?” he looked cute in that state. He looked as confused as happy. 

“You were not as straightforward as you are now” you shook your head “Woo, you ran away from all those girls. How would I assume I had a chance?”

“You were the only one I would have stayed for” he mumbled, and your heart melted. “I’m sorry I never showed it to you. I was the one who assumed it was too obvious on my part”

When your phone lit up again, you decided it was time to let Mingyu know that you were not waiting for him. That you had a right to move on.

“Let me take care of this,” you said, moving to the corner of the table “Proceed with your drink, please” you smiled, softening at his expression. If he was a cartoon, a question mark would have appeared over his head.

You angled your phone and after a couple of shots, you were content with the outcome.

[Picture]

I’m the one who’s busy now. And for real. 

When you left the café hand in hand, you couldn’t help but wonder if things would have been different if Mingyu had reached out sometime earlier. 

Maybe, just maybe…

But he hadn’t, and you were truly happy with where your life had headed. Right across your door, Wonwoo appeared when you least expected him to. He was there to hold you, to caress you, to care for you — for your meals, for your sleep schedule, for your working hours. He was there when no one else had been. 

“What’s got you so smiley?” the reason for your many sleepless nights and enamored sighs during your teenage years asked, squishing your hand as he led you into your building’s elevator.

“You”

As the doors closed, Wonwoo wasted no time and pressed his lips to yours, gently cupping your face with his large but soft hands. You steadied yourself by gripping the sides of his black t-shirt, angling your head to let him have you. All of you.

His kiss felt even better than you had imagined all those years ago. He showed hunger and patience at the same time, he wanted to feel what he had missed for so long and also save it for later. 

“You’re amazing” he mumbled over your lips, a gentle smile on his face.

“You are”

“I’m too happy to argue right now.” he pecked your lips again, just in time to get out of the elevator. “But I might do it later”

• • ┈┈┈┈ ๑ ⋅ ⋯ ୨ ୧ ⋯ ⋅ ๑ ┈┈┈┈ • •

epilogue: wonwoo as your boyfriend

• • ┈┈┈┈ ๑ ⋅ ⋯ ୨ ୧ ⋯ ⋅ ๑ ┈┈┈┈ • •

part 1 | you decide... mingyu (2) or wonwoo (3)

please like and reblog!

[sturniololuvz]

could you do the triplets sister going through something and she ends up getting drunk and just saying everything to the triplets and they comfort her (yes i’m dealing with trauma through fanfic)

yesss!

“A Drunken Heart-to-Heart”

Sturniolos x sister

Warnings : drunk , crying

The front door swung open with a loud thud as 17-year-old Y/N stumbled inside, her face flushed and her steps wobbly. She barely managed to kick her shoes off before tripping over the rug in the entryway.

“Whoa—what the—?” Nick was the first to look up from the couch, his eyes widening.

Chris and Matt turned their heads at the same time, immediately catching sight of their little sister, who was clearly not sober.

“Y/N?” Matt said, standing up. “Are you—are you drunk?”

Y/N giggled, hiccupped, then nodded dramatically. “Maaaaybeeee.”

Chris blinked. “Oh, this is weird.”

“Very weird,” Nick added, watching as Y/N practically melted onto the couch next to him.

“I love you guys soooo much,” she suddenly blurted, looking between them with glossy eyes.

“Okay, yeah, she’s definitely drunk,” Chris muttered, still in shock. Y/N was never this talkative.

“How much did you drink?” Matt asked, crossing his arms.

Y/N shrugged. “Like… a little. Or a lot. Who knows?”

Nick sighed, rubbing his temples. “Alright, well, you need to sleep this off, so—”

But before he could finish, Y/N’s face twisted, and suddenly, her bottom lip trembled. “Guys…” Her voice cracked.

The room went silent.

“Uh… Y/N?” Chris asked cautiously.

And then—she broke.

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she dropped her head into her hands. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore!” she sobbed.

Matt, Chris, and Nick all exchanged panicked glances.

“Oh—oh, no,” Matt mumbled.

“Is she crying?!” Chris whisper-shouted. “What do we do?!”

Nick, despite his usual sarcastic nature, was the first to move. He slid closer to Y/N, hesitating for only a second before pulling her into a hug. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

Y/N sniffled, gripping onto his hoodie like it was her lifeline. “Everything,” she whispered. “I feel like—I feel like I’m drowning, and no one even notices. I try so hard to act fine, but I’m not fine, and I don’t even know how to fix it.”

Matt immediately softened. “Y/N…”

Chris, now fully out of his confusion, sat on her other side. “Why didn’t you tell us you were feeling like this?” His voice was quieter than usual.

Y/N wiped at her face, still hiccupping. “Because—I don’t know. I didn’t want to bother you guys.”

Nick’s grip on her tightened. “You’re never a bother, Y/N. You know that, right?”

Chris nodded. “Yeah, dude, you could literally scream at me at 3 a.m. about anything, and I’d still listen.”

Matt sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t have to go through this alone. We’re your brothers, Y/N. No matter what, we’re here for you.”

Y/N looked between them, her face still wet with tears, but something about their words made her breathing slow. She was drunk, exhausted, and emotionally drained—but for the first time in a while, she felt safe.

Nick squeezed her shoulder. “Now, how about we get you some water and let you sleep this off? And tomorrow, we’ll talk about this when you’re sober, yeah?”

Y/N nodded, sniffling. “Okay.”

Chris stood up. “I’ll get the water.”

Matt grabbed a blanket. “And I’ll make sure she doesn’t roll off the couch in her sleep.”

Nick chuckled. “And I’ll keep holding her so she doesn’t start crying again.”

Y/N let out a small laugh between her sniffles. “Thanks, guys.”

Matt smiled softly. “Always.”

[vaquelin]

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

“You’re moving out,”

Alhaitham repeated slowly, trying to process the information, “because you don’t like the flower I bought?”

“It’s not only about the flower!” Kaveh exclaimed and fell on the couch.

He hid his face in hands not to look at the crimson monstrosity in front of him. No, he didn’t want Alhaitham to look at him going out of his mind. To be honest, he wasn’t convinced of his decision for one minute straight. The flower was driving him crazy and after long hours in the darkness of his room he eventually discovered a real reason for that but it still didn’t feel enough to think about moving out. He had to admit that he got used to this place and Alhaitham’s presence. After nearly two years of living together, they knew each other's schedules and preferences by heart. They weren’t just housemates anymore; they had begun to understand each other.

“I doubt that anyone still follows your trace of thoughts.” Alhaitham sat on the edge of the couch.

His reaction caught Kaveh off guard. The Scribe was being careful, almost delicate—like it was too early for his usual sarcasm to take over. Kaveh expected him to laugh at the idea of moving out and even encourage him, just for the sake of another quarrel between them. And, Archons believe, he got pretty scared when Alhaitham started acting all serious about that. Kaveh had expected Alhaitham to dismiss the idea with rational arguments—not to take him seriously! Kaveh assumed that Alhaitham just pitied him and somehow that was even worse than mocking. But the true reason of his sudden decision was ridiculous. He didn’t want to admit it but why was it bothering him so much?

There was no use in further hiding the truth from Alhaitham.

“It’s about me! I’m the flower! I don’t fit into your turquoise-and-beige interior—like an odd puzzle piece that doesn’t belong. Like that yellow pot in the hallway painting! Like that random shoelace we can’t match to any shoes! What am I even saying!?” The nonsense just kept falling from his mouth.

Alhaitham had to silence him, before he embarrassed himself totally.

“That is true, your colour scheme do not match with the palette of this house. You wear red and everything around is blue or green. But let me assure you, Mr. Architect, no one besides you cares about that,” he sounded just so out of his character.

Kaveh could get used to this polite and caring side of Alhaitham, although it was confusing him at first.

“What?”

“Red and green just remind me of roses in full bloom. And honestly, I couldn’t care less if things are supposed to match or not.”

“Really? You don’t mind that I… that is, this flower… That it does not belong here?”

Alhaitham frowned. His expression became somehow even more serious, so that Kaveh felt the meaning of his words down in his soul. “I invited it to my house, so it does belong here.”

Now he felt stupid. How could he let his insecurity skew the image of Alhaitham, always rational Scribe, who never gets carried away. He was like a bucket of cold water when Kaveh was a wildfire of complex emotions. At the same time, Kaveh could be the gentle blow that keeps Alhaitham’s match on fire, so that he never burns out. They completed each other, whether they admitted it or not. But what if Kaveh’s fire burned too bright?

“Still I… Where are you going?”

Alhaitham left the living room and came back after few minutes with two glasses and a bottle of wine. At first the Architect thought that it had to be a dream.

“The wine is red, it should not fit in this interior, but you shall agree with me that this is the item that works just fine in the current situation.”

“It’s hard to deny your logic,” concurred Kaveh, taking the glass.

The next hour they spent drinking and talking, just like if they were again students in Akademiya.

“I think I worry that much because I quite adore your intelligence,” casually mentioned Kaveh.

He then took another sip of wine, missing the way Alhaitham stiffened beside him. A sudden silence set in. After a while the Architect looked up concerned to discover that his friend was as red as the ugly flower.

“What- What happened?”

He was sure he didn’t say anything inappropriate. Nothing that could cause such a reaction. Alhaitham however seemed as if Kaveh at least proposed to him.

“Y-you… Did you just say that you… adore me?” he sounded so genuinely scared that the Architect barely kept himself from laughing.

He was staring at Alhaitham, trying to find a sign that the Scribe is just joking but he couldn’t find any. For a second his brain influenced by the wine, told him to play along and see how this would end. But he wasn’t that drunk not to think it was a terrible idea. Instead, he smiled warmly and spoke up without any mischievous intention hidden in his voice.

“Didn’t I say that I adore your intelligence?”

A painful realisation became so obvious on Alhaitham’s handsome face. He closed his eyes, bit his lips and frowned.

“Oh… that’s… that’s correct.”

The blonde casually started smiling, which unintentionally led the Scribe to think he was being mocked. “Wait, you got so flustered because you thought I said that adore you?”

Alhaitham stood up probably to stop Kaveh from staring at him and making him even more embarrassed. “Leave the teasing,” he said from behind the couch.

Kaveh tilted his head back, his blonde hair spilling over as a mischievous grin spread across his face.

“It’s always you who teases me!” he straighten up. ”By the way, that wouldn’t be a lie. I adore you, even though you are sometimes so stubborn and stoic and mean and cold…” he kept counting just to see Alhaitham’s reaction.

The Scribe, to no one’s surprise, remained stoic.

“It seems that you recognise many flaws in me.”

Kaveh smiled. “They are not flaws. Those are the features that make it hard for me to understand you. But they are not your flaws. You have different ones.”

“Would you care to give an example?”

The Architect pretended to wonder.

“Insensitiveness,” he said after a while.

“Insensitiveness? People say you are oversensitive.”

Kaveh wasn’t expecting that comeback—but he wasn’t about to back down.

”Oh, so it cuts both ways? Very well, you are… apathetic,” he said proudly.

The Scribe’s corners of the lips lifted a bit. Oh, they loved arguing. It was their own language that only they could understand.

“In that case, I must claim that you are too passionate.”

“Too closed,” Kaveh snapped back.

“So open, that you are almost naive.”

The Architect opened his mouth to vocalise a snarky come back, but he got lost in the rhythm.

“Well, you may have a point here,” he conceded that to Alhaitham.

They shared a honest laugh.

“We don’t really fit together,” Kaveh pointed out the obvious.

His fingers tightened around his glass, knuckles paling. It was bothering him for this whole time. Why were they living together? Why did Alhaitham let him stay here if they were so unmatched?

“I must disagree. I see you as my mirror,” the Scribe said.

Kaveh frowned. “A mirror? That’s absurd. We’re nothing alike. Are you drunk already?”

Alhaitham took a sip of wine, unbothered. “You see my flaws so clearly because they reflect your own.”

That was something Kaveh had never thought of before. Could it really be like this? No, that was ridiculous, he couldn’t stand a chance with Alhaitham’s brilliant mind. Even now he seemed to know what Kaveh was thinking.

“What I am trying to say is that your intelligence can also be described as admirable. In other words, you are more clever than you think.” he looked straight into his eyes and this time it was Kaveh who blushed hard. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No. It’s the nicest you have been in a while. Thank you.”

The Scribe lifted one eyebrow. “You accepted my compliment? Without any complaints? What happened to your insecurity?”

“Seriously!? Did you have to remind me of it?” Kaveh could not stop laughing.

He almost choked on wine when Alhaitham quickly approached him and placed his hand on the Architect’s pale fingers. His touch was warmer than the blonde would have expected.

“Don’t move out. Please.”

Kaveh swallowed, glancing at the familiar mess of books, the couch indented from too many debates, the table still holding that ridiculous flower. His chest tightened. Could he really imagine leaving? Finally, could he imagine living without Alhaitham?

“…I won’t,” he replied.

Alhaitham then stood up under the pretense of making tea. But before he disappeared in the kitchen, he stopped in the door frame and looked at the flower still standing on the tea table.

“Do you want me to get rid of the plant?”

“No, I love it!” Kaveh said without hesitation.

Alhaitham turned away, just enough to hide the small, involuntary smile that crept onto his lips. “I love it too,” he murmured—only to himself.

“Hmm?” Kaveh didn’t catch what he said.

Alhaitham hesitated. His fingers tapped against the doorframe before he finally spoke.

“…Green tea, then?”

Kaveh smiled, softer this time. “Yeah… you do know me.”

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

all parts on ao3

[lifenconcepts]

wanted to just chime in as someone who had a complicated relationship with specifics terms and stuff and also a so-so understanding of some coherent religion, but I have a deep connection to the divine, and through spirituality and something akin to a religious gaze (but not quite so) tend to view the world in a rather more mystical sense, tending to assume the role of a guide through the energy as I have a touch of mystical knowledge within me that I just can’t bring to claim is anything other than something angelic or divine. I understand entirely the displeasure of your own beliefs being met with individuals who don’t seem to exactly share the same views on a topic as you, but you must get this - there always will be those which tend to use the easiest term they have at hand simply because they don’t know what else to use, or find comfort in being seen one way but truly being something else, and it’s hard ofcourse to come to terms with something that makes your very being and soul feel icky .. but it’s just impossible to have everyone comply to the same rules as you deem is right. I’m not saying that trying to educate others isn’t at all worth it, but rather that sometimes you simply don’t feel good about a category of interests or identity - and that is fine.. but rather than forcing yourself to interact with that side of the world, simply to turn a blind eye. They’re not harming anyone, and you have the choice to also not bother anyone, and let’s live in a world where everyone is just trying their best to be happy and fulfilled - no matter the way it seems to present itself. Doesn’t that seem nice?

In short: if you don’t like it, then dont stress your mind over it and pretend it doesn’t exist! Ignorance can be pleasant when you turn a blind eye to it, especially when it’s something in relation to something as widespread as IDENTITY. It would be impossible (and quite morally wrong) to try police or control it in any way, and so we simply must accept what’s beyond our control and try not to take it to heart. Our souls are tender, but for what is pleasant for someone, may not be good in another’s eye, but it doesn’t mean it’s inherently bad - simply a matter of perspective and different minds/souls/individuals. There almost always exists those which go against our beliefs, and my greatest advice is to just tolerate it at face value and turn a blind eye.. because you won’t be able to change a thing, and I’m sorry, even if it truly seems not right, but the only options are either destroying another’s self and joy while also disturbing your own and the universe’s peace, or to learn to handle it in whatever way you might - and you deserve to keep whatever beliefs you feel are right, but society likely shall always continue to use ‘angels’ and ‘demon/devil’ as these vague concepts? Those little men with horns and beautiful creatures with purpose - it’s defined in different ways by different people (and non-people), from whichever day and age you look at it to, and if you are offended by angels in the internet simply being what feels like their true self, then I suggest you run away into the woods in Halloween because there are plenty of costumes that get angels and demons horrifically wrong. Even with the scriptures we hold.

And still - if angels existed, do exist, and will exist - doesn’t that mean their self will constantly be rewritten time and time again? We can’t stick to the only thing that was written down some long time ago, because just like people believed women to be demons and the common cold to be caused by devil’s hatered and the only solution be cocaine, maybe some things about the divine is outdated.. but I’m not willing to open that can of worms now, but just bringing out the fact that these things sometimes need to be rewritten with newer information. Also, love all the writings of those above my post! <3

I'm a religious otherkin having difficulty sorting my feelings out about angelkin. I feel like beings should identify however they feel best, but I can't help but feel frustrated sometimes because so many portrayals just...aren't angels. Idk it just seems wrong bordering disrespectful sometimes. I'm scared to post about this because the otherkin community seems really hostile towards Christians and I don't even fully know how I feel about it myself. Idk just putting this out there I guess, if any angelkin could weigh in with their experiences please do because I really do want to understand! Please help me figure these feelings out!

🌌

[keebokuun]

the things Uzi puts up with for these idiots 😔

Me and @jazzyblusnowflake were talking about Uzi in a maid dress and how V and N would react 👀💕

[fingertipsmp3]

Also I feel like I have to say this but FUCK Toy Story 4. Awful movie, bad execution, poor excuse for a sequel.

[s0lar-ch3ri]

okay hi waves im making a vers on here so the chat can read it (theres mentions of being sick ofc, animal death [its quick and about rats], and brief descriptions of kissing) I FINISHED IT LATE LAST NIGHT SO IF ITS WEIRD MAYBE THATS WHY ANYWAYS TAKE IT

Vyncent, or Virion, whatever name you’d like, he had no room to care right now, had lived on Prime for months. He might have even been here a year, hard to tell. Things get busy as an elf-boy superhero with your home world’s great heroes in your brain that give you use, who happens to have befriended a red head with so much energy and the power to kill the sun in a kick if he wanted, a white haired guy who had a book that could just make your worst of nightmares look tame and also sometimes a fairy, and a dead black-haired boy who couldn’t stop meeting the dead for some reason. Lots of stuff in Vyncent’s life.

So could someone explain to him that what was a common cold for anybody else here put Virion out of commission? Sure, he was more prone to getting sick, he’d face it like every other week, but at least then he could hide it! Sick wasn’t good back home. Sick was a death sentence, and this was why. When you can’t get up, you can’t run, you can’t fight. If healing magic didn’t fix you, it may work best to cut that loss yourself.

Unfortunately, Vyncent didn’t have healing magic, and trying to reach the Greats while you feel so uncomfortable and gross and, well, sick, you might rather eat rat poison. As such, he had to bug Will about it. He hasn’t even seen Will get a cough now that he’s thinking about it. Granted, he was dead and awesome, so maybe that had something to do with it.

“You’re not normally this hot, right? I have to make sure, again.” Will’s fingertips were slightly blackened, and the cold feeling on his forehead while nice almost made him jump. Right, dead boy cold. Cold dead boy. Cold hot dead boy- no, elf boy hot, dead boy cold. Yes, this made sense and was logical. Don’t question Vyncent, he’s normal and fine minus everything wrong with him.

“Mmm mmgh,” an excellent denial from Vyncent. He’s so good at this.

“Right, just…how long are you normally sick? Like, back home, does it get this bad? Do you guys even get sick there, or do you just, I dunno, shoot it better?”

He better not be mockin’ me.

He’s Will. He likes living, or whatever he is right now.

Right, the Greats. Not always Will’s biggest fans, but they weren’t going to come out while sick so rather than hear his voice insult his friend, he heard all their comments and thoughts insulting his friend. Bothering him, that’s what they’re “Great” at (he should leave the puns to the other guys).

“Mgh…” Great stuff Virion. Let’s see how William responds.

“Great stuff Vynce.” He puts a bowl on the table which seems to have a collection of ingredients that regular soup didn’t have.

“What’s-” He coughed a bit, cursed lungs. “What in that?”

“It’s a soup, just with stuff that you can actually eat. Like rats and stuff. I tried to put some medicine in it, just to see.”

“Where’d-” More coughs. “Where’d the rats come from?”

Will shudders. “I don’t think you want to know.”

Vyncent laughed a bit. He let his brain indulge itself, imagining what may have happened to get them. The image of him hunting the rats kept appearing in there. If his ears were a little more red, he’d blame being sick.

He just brought you soup, calm down lover boy.

Shut up, shut up shut up shut up.

[I think the kid’s embarrassed.]

Come on Stryder, pleaseeeeee.

Your pining is not hard to spot.

NOT YOU TOO ALPHONZ.

Vyncent turned over to his side, using the pillow to cover his ears as if that’ll work, groaning the whole time.

“You good man?”

“Yeah…’m jus’ feeling stupid…”

“Nobody feels too great when sick.”

“Mghh…”

“Can we try some soup? It should help, and you do have to eat.”

Vyncent had been so out of it, he forgot how long it had been since he ate. Maybe that’s why he felt so shit. Memory is dumb and should die forever. This is a logical conclusion. Vyncent was always a man of logic. You had to trust him.

He turned back over to Will, who happened to pull off the sickly look very well, attempting to push himself up so he could eat something. He could do things for himself, surely. Don’t ask him how well he’d do at them, because he wouldn’t lie and say he’d be great, cause that’s totally not lying. Totally.

I hope you can hear the sarcasm.

“No man, don’t- just sit back, it- it’s fine. You look deathly man, that’s coming from me.”

The emphasis was joking, making Vyncent giggle.

“Fine…”

“Save the energy.”

Like a baby, Vyncent was spoon fed soup, which the comparison he’d make would hurt more if he wasn’t just stuck on Will. His face was heating up, sure, but maybe it was less than the illness. Maybe it was more Will.

[He’s finally admitting it, good gods, took you long enough.]

Shhhhhhhhut it.

You’d think he’d have picked up on it by now, how bad you are.

Be ‘iet….

“Hm?”

“They're being loud…”

“Greats?”

“Mhm…they’re judging me.”

“About what? If they’re being dicks, uh- well, I couldn’t really fight Alphonz. Or Min. Or Ram. Or any of them- I’ll pretend like I can fight them!”

Vyncent laughs at this guy, this idiot he adores with all his heart, no matter how much of it will admit that. “Bout how pretty you are.”

Vyncent didn’t recall ever seeing Will blush, but this seemed, like, close to it. He starts nervously chuckling. “You really think that?”

“Mhm, ‘art of why I like you.”

He saw the cogs in Will’s brain malfunction and sputter. Did it make him lose it inside to have said that? Sure, but in the end, it’s Will. He’d hate to lose a friend right now, but he’s done worse and stuck around, and maybe in the end, Will could find someone who doesn’t get sick every other week.

“I- Uh- Vynce you feeling alright? Your forehead is really hot.” He starts nervously chuckling again. He did that a lot.

“Mhm, dead boy hot.”

Someone’s gained guts! Finally!

I actually have 0 idea what I’m doing and I don’t think I can back down now, so uh, thanks.

[Oh, yeah, no. You actually suck ass at this.]

Thanks asshole.

It is not a failure on your end. Your courting attempts seem to be affecting him well.

There was a detail in Will’s eyes. Just a glint of something. Was it hope, denial, something that was any more terrifying? Vyncent has little idea what’s happening at this point until they do. He’s going to hold onto that look though. He hopes it's something better than he could be. Just maybe something that gives him a sign.

“You- uh, you’re a hot elf boy, man, yeah.” He stumbled around his words, trying to not make eye contact. He sat on the sofa a bit awkwardly.

This is so stupid. I’m so stupid for this- the last sane thoughts of Vyncent as he moves- I’m so so terribly dumb for this. With a loss of any sanity and dignity he gets up and somewhat crawls over to William. He’s locked onto William’s eyes, and maybe his lips. Maybe this rotten dead man can be the medicine to cure him. His sickness feels a bit deeper than medical anyways.

“V-Vynce? W-Something up man?”

He cups Will’s face with a hand and rubs his thumb against his cheek. This is wrong, this is so so stupid and wrong and maybe Vyncent knows but also he has never felt this confidence and honestly? May as well use it to his advantage, the Fallen Ones know he would never get to do this again, not being this confident.

Vyncent had never kissed anybody. Kissing wasn’t exactly a Fauna thing, at least not what Vyncent learned, so this was new. It was a new sensation. On a regular level, this was just pushing his lips against another pair of lips. Emotionally, he was in a dream land. Things felt great. Will’s cold lips were a nice startlement, a shock turned to a calming cool throughout his body. They basically melted from the initial surprise into the kiss, Vyncent laying on top of Will as he light-headedly pulled back.

“...Woah.”

“‘Retty nice. You…your lips ‘aste ‘ice.” Vyncent had a love-strivenly stupid smile, and at this point, hiding from himself or Will was futile. It felt soft and comfortable in this moment, and knowing that even if he was weird inside, Will wasn’t going anywhere. He didn’t have to either, Virion could lay on this couch and he didn’t have to run. He didn’t have to hide. That was something to like. He snuggled into Will.

“Movie ‘ight?”

“I- sure man. Not the weirdest it could be.”

“I like this.”

“Love you too, Vynce.”

Love you too.

who up ghosting their sick knife