#it could be one of the hardest fandoms to get into but it is not

[peasant-player]

Everyone in the Tolkien fandom who spent hours to makes ellaborated charts, name descriptions, little drawings and every other thing to help get to know the characters better.

And get like 3 views

Know that I love you and hope your life is filled with kindness.

[triglycercule]

mtt therapy moment except dust keeps taking breaks to talk to phantom papyrus and horror just wants this to hurry up so it can get to his turn because he couldn't give two shits about dust and killer's trauma and killer physically cannot discuss his issues and just starts zoning out while crying for some reason during it

and i'm the therapist listening to all of this writing down notes fervently because ITS CANON MATERIAL CANON I NEED TO GET THE CANON MATERIAL

[tkbrokkoli]

wanted to write smth abt top surgery ⬇️

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

From the request HERE

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: You two can't keep your hands off one another as you come home one night, but a slight problem has you in a pickle: your birth control has just run out and you are all out of condoms. Not to worry, Simon assures you that he will pull out. But as you ride him you begin to question if you really want him to. Will he stick to his promise or will he give in to your need?

Word Count: 4.9 k

Warnings:

Your back bounces into the front door as Simon pins you against it as he is physically unable to wait to get inside before he is on you. The walk from the car to the apartment has already been long enough, you can’t expect him to stay away any longer, especially not after the needy way his hands were on you just moments before. He almost made it till you just had to go and pull him into you by tugging on his belt loops; you should have known that’s all it takes to make his resolve break so that he is unable to hold back his need to devour every inch of you.

It had all started on your way home as it always does when he is out with you and an urge hits that he can’t indulge yet: his hand that was gripped tightly around the top of your inner thigh as he drove began moving up slowly until it reached the inseam of your jeans where he pressed up against it as if he was trying to get a feel of your warmth through the thick fabric. The longer his hand massaged you through your clothes, the worse the ache got and the more he had trouble keeping his gaze from trailing back onto you at every chance until he had to force himself to look back at the road, biting his lower lip to focus on something other than his need to put his mouth on any part of you he could get.  

He did try his hardest to get you both inside before his composure broke, but even as the car came to a stop he knew it was too late. There is only so much he can control, he is a trained professional after all, but this isn’t military business; when it comes to those moments when his desire for you has reached its peak, there is no holding back. 

You are the perfect kind of intoxication and once he has you in his veins there is nothing left but to indulge until he is satisfied.

His mouth dominates your own as his hands cling around your cheeks to keep you completely at his mercy so that he can take you as he likes. It’s not even been five minutes, but he is already panting heavily from the ferocity in the desperate and insatiable way he captures your lips in open-mouthed kisses and the sound of his yearning makes your heart skip. 

“Si,” you moan the shortened version of his name against his lips in between gasped breaths.  

Christ, the way it rolls off your tongue is an aphrodisiac to him and before he can think he is already rock hard and throbbing against your hip. You would think he hadn’t had you in months with the urgency in which he claims your mouth with his until your skin burns from the aggression; the immense intensity in that moment has your knees buckling.   

Your head is spinning with each passing minute as he grunts into your mouth, the feeling of your kiss too good to keep quiet about…but he needs more. Suddenly, his tender lips leave yours stinging as Simon nuzzles across your cheek, eyes closed and moving off of feel alone, and soon his hot breath is at the side of your head as his lips ghost near your jaw before they land. They leave burning kisses in their wake while they travel down towards your neck. 

“Fuck,” he exclaims with that husky tone into your skin, “I need ta feel ya, baby.”

Moving between the contours of your fused bodies his desperate hands locate the button on your jeans and with a bit of struggle, he undoes them. Both of those meaty paws are shoved inside the front before he even gets the zipper down. There’s a hiss on his tongue as his hands fill with all your soft, warm skin just inside your clothes. 

“Gotta get ya inside ‘fore I fuck ya right here ‘gainst the door,” he says in a deep, breathy whisper. 

The ache in his voice makes your skin prickle with anticipation of what’s to come as the vibration from his deep register makes your clit throb. His neediness is overwhelming, worming its way inside your head until you can’t think of anything else outside of the sensation of his touch along your curves, the yearning in his depraved kisses, and the way his words set your soul on fire with passion.   

“I’m sure the neighbors would love that,” you say, quickly followed by a high-pitched moan as he drags the sharp edge of his teeth over that rapidly pounding vein at the side of your neck.

You hold his face tighter against you, forcing him to suck at the spot, his heated, sticky breath moistening your skin as the pressure from his lips leave you in a daze. His calloused hands continue harshly pawing at your body as he situates his knee between your legs up against the door to steady himself and without thinking you take that as an invitation to grind against his thigh to relieve some of the ache that is making you lose your mind.

He can’t stop himself from following your lead and soon you are both greedily humping each other, desperately trying to get as much friction going as possible, not actually caring if anyone catches you two going at it. You can feel his mouth upturn into a smile against your neck. “They’d be so lucky to see me fuck a gorgeous thing like ya, sweetheart,” he growls into the skin.

What’s breathing again? You’ve lost the ability completely after that line. 

Fuck, Simon doesn’t want to take his hands off you, but you have got to get inside and quick or else his little joke might become a reality with the way you two keep grinding on one another. But if he wants to get these clothes off you, and fucking hell does he want to, he’s going to have to open the door.

Under duress, he removes one of his hands from within your pants and searches his pockets for his keys. The jingle of metal clinking together is heard as he pulls them out and flips through the set until his fingers find the one he needs. It takes him several tries to stab the key into the lock, relying strictly on sound and feeling alone to be sure he has it and finally that familiar click hits his ears over the sound of your combined heavy breathing. 

The front door ricochets off the wall behind it as Simon flings it open with a bit too much force before he staggers his way inside with you plastered to his body, his lips feverishly back to capturing yours in their embrace as you enter. He can't get in fast enough; he desperately needs to get you fucking naked and now. 

Grabbing the door with his hand, he slams it closed before making you both tumble to the floor and pinning your body between him and the living room carpet. “Can’t make it,” he groans in agony as if the bedroom is miles away. 

It’s not like your naked body hasn’t felt the fibers of the carpet dig into it before. 

Now that you are safely inside, his lust is unable to be controlled. Just the feeling of you under him has him panting into your open mouth like an animal in heat, barely able to kiss you as it feels so fucking good. He runs those coarse hands over your delicate curves through the opening he’s created in your pants and up under the bottom hem of your shirt over your stomach. 

His groans turn into a bassy whimper as you begin to explore his body as well, fingers running up under his shirt to caress the muscles along his torso up towards his chest, your arms taking his t-shirt with you as you go until it reaches his neck and he lets you pull it off over his head. The skin is pink with the heat from his arousal making his blood run hot like fire through his limbs. Moving up onto his knees he leans on his calves, his head falling back in ecstasy as you glide your touch through the hair that covers his chest and abdomen; just your touch is stimulating enough to have him ready to burst. 

He looks down at you with half-lidded eyes as your hand slips lower over those bulging muscles as they ripple, the bliss from your silky touch almost too much to handle. You catch his stare and lock it in your pining gaze as the tips of your fingers slip over his naval and down onto the clasp of his pants and a deep, guttural moan is dragged out of his throat as you skillfully undo it and shove your way inside.   

Your hand brushes against the bulbous tip of his cock and his whole body shudders. “F-fuck,” he gasps under his breath, his eyes fluttering shut and mouth hanging open as your hand wraps around it and begins to stroke up and down within the confines of his pants. It doesn’t take long and he is bucking, rolling his hips to fuck your hand as your fist tightens more around him. The constriction only makes the movement of his hips more feverish as he succumbs to the feeling of the friction. 

He lets you go on until he can feel the first twinges of pressure building inside and that’s when he knows he’s had enough; there is so much more he wants to do to you and if he comes now it’ll all be over too soon. Opening those brown eyes, now with their blown out pupils, he runs his tongue over his dry lips and looks down at you as he removes your hand from around his cock and tugs it out of his pants.

“Come ‘ere to me, pretty girl,” he groans as he drags your hips forward onto his knees so you have to wrap your legs on either side of his wide, bulky torso. “Need these fuckers off.” 

Those girthy fingers hook themselves into the waistband of your jeans, making sure to latch into the top of your panties as well, and with a hard tug he is wrenching them both down off your hips, continuing down the line of your legs. Your body is aching so bad for his touch that everywhere he makes contact against you feels like ecstasy and all you want is more. You pull your legs back to tuck them against your chest so he can rip your pants all the way off and toss them away. 

Your ears pick up the sound of Simon’s sharp inhale as he gets sight of that sweet thing between your thighs. One look is all it takes and the inside of his mouth begins to salivate as he leans over your body to place his raw lips to your abdomen just below your naval as your body squirms under his touch from each warm caress of his mouth. The short, bristly hair that covers his jaw pricks against that overly sensitive skin until your back arches off the ground and you start to whine as it is almost too much for you to take.

“Need ta make ya come,” Simon whispers his feral plea into your stomach. “Need ta hear it, need ta feel it…”

His thought trails off as his lips wander down lower to stop at the sparse hair covering the top of your nude pussy. He pauses for only a few seconds to take it all in; God, he would never get tired of seeing it. But as much as he admires the look of it, there is something he needs even more and he can feel his taste buds tingling across his tongue to get at it.

“Need ta taste it…” he says, frantic and desperate. 

Your brain is so strung out that you haven’t fully comprehended his words as you open your eyes and see Simon repositioning himself, sliding out from under you and moving onto his stomach in between the divide in your legs. With his fingertips gripping into each of your thighs, he pushes them apart and keeps them spread as he immediately dives face first into the gap he has made with a hunger that makes him wildly delirious. 

There’s something you need to remember to tell him, something important pertaining to this exact situation, but the minute his mouth is on those tender lower lips your ability to think is gone. His mouth pin heavy kisses to your petals before his wide tongue flattens against the curve of your pussy and pushes up tight until the pressure causes you to fidgeting your hips against his face. 

Back and forth Simon slips his tongue over you until he pushes through the threshold of your sex and drags it up the length, coming to rest up against that bundle of nerves towards the top. He can feel your heartbeat through the throbbing in your clit and his eyes roll back in his head as he loses himself inside the haze of his passion; if he could live between your legs, he would definitely call it home. 

You are already a little wet and he can taste your arousal in his mouth as he takes the tip of his tongue to roll it delicately over your clit and you squeeze your thighs together around his ears in response to the intense pleasure that one simple movement produces. Keep doing shit like that and he isn’t going to be able to contain himself. 

Simon tries to keep his tongue steady and slow, but the longer he stays buried in your pussy, lapping at you like he’s been starved of it, the harder it is to contain himself. He’s obsessed. Every desperate sound you make, every writhe of your body, makes him greedy for more; he is eager to do whatever it takes to turn you into a complete mess and that means only one thing- overstimulation.

Releasing one of your thighs, he moves his palm to rest under his chin and brings two of his bulky fingers to align them with your entrance. He keeps his tongue on your clit and thrusts the pad against it as he sinks his middle fingers up into you. Those dark eyes dart up over the line of your body to watch your back arch up high off the floor while you cry out in incoherent moans as you are suddenly stretched out from the size of his digits.  

His fingers fill up your pussy as deep, come hither strokes work on your G spot over and over in rhythm until he has your body dripping. The mixture of your juices and his spit from your clit dribbles down into his hand and collects around his chin. This is exactly what he is looking for: the more your wetness gathers on his face, the more feral he becomes until his sanity is gone and only a mindless creature hell bent on ruining you remains. 

No more calm caresses now; he needs this raw and dirty. He wants his face to be slathered in your cum.

Tilting his head to the side, he takes a deep breath. “Rock your hips inta me,” he grunts his hasty demand with his mouth still against you before plunging back in.

Planting your feet firmly onto the floor, you pick up your hips slightly and slowly begin to rut against his face as his fingers curl up inside of you and his tongue continues to tease your clit. The sensation is unlike anything else, riding his face and fingers at the same time. How is this man a master at using every single part of his body? 

Simon hums his praises into you for how good you are at following orders and you can feel the vibration from his lips; that adds something even more magnificent to the equation and soon there is a warmth gathering in the pit of your stomach that you recognize- you are close. 

Your core is clenching around his fingers something fierce, your swollen walls bearing down on him with each thrust of your hips as he laps up the mess you are making to keep it from being wasted on the carpet. As your leg muscles begin to shake near his ears, he knows that you are about to come and his already depleted breathing hitches as he waits to feel it.

“Sh-shit,” you whimper as your nails dig into the carpet. “Gonna come, Si.”

A few more moans and then you fall silent as all that pressure is right at the peak, so close you can almost taste it, and with a few more thrusts of his tongue and buck of your hips and your body contracts as your orgasm tears through you. 

Simon sneaks one gasping breath just as your thighs clamp down rigidly around his ears, blocking him in against you so that he can’t get free until you are finished. The entirety of your high you ride out with him licking, sucking, and fingering until you sink into the floor, breathing through the pleasure.

“That’s my girl,” he growls, breathing hard as his face emerges from you with a contented smile on his glistening lips. 

Pushing himself up, he moves back onto his knees in front of you before taking the back of his hand and wiping it across his lips to remove the coating leaking down his chin. “Ready for more?” he smiles.

All at once the thought comes flooding back into your mind through the clarity that getting off has given you, that thing you are supposed to tell him, as he slides the waistband of his jeans down over the curve of his ass and pulls his cock out. Goddamn he is hard, the tip swollen and throbbing with the beat of his heart as he moves in.

Quickly, you stagger up onto your elbows to look at him. “Wait,” you choke out as he slides back up close against you.

“Need a break?” he asks, slightly out of breath still.

You don’t want to stop, God, you want him in you so bad it hurts, but there’s a problem. “Ran outta birth control,” you stammer out. “Do we have any condoms?”

Even in your delirious state you already know the answer; you haven’t bought anything for a while as you had never had any trouble with your pills until now. Simon looks back at you and shakes his head, confirming your suspicions and you fall back down onto your back defeated.

“Don’t wanna stop,” you whine pathetically as you feel him move, thinking that you’ll have to stop, but Simon is quick to crush your fears.

"Listen,” he says as he leans over top of you, cupping your cheek to pull you into a quick kiss as he holds himself up with the other, “I'll be careful. Swear I'll fuckin' pull out."

His cock presses against you as it hangs freely out of his pants. Without thinking he slowly grinds the veiny shaft up against your pussy, his hardness stroking over your clit until your juices are dripping all over it. All that slick, all that warmth, and Simon is losing his goddamn mind, but he won’t put it in, not until you say.

You are already so drunk off the euphoria of your orgasm that there is no way you’re gonna say no to that, not when the need to keep this going for as long as possible is all you want. The more his cock slips between your petals the more you agree with his idea until the only thing left in your hazy mind is the need for him to be inside you- now. 

“Promise?” you ask.

“I swear,” he reassures. “Don’t wanna stop either. Wanna be inside ya too.”

“Okay,” you agree enthusiastically and he gives you one more heated kiss in confirmation. 

Slipping through you a few more times just to be sure he is good and coated, he pulls back and sets the tip right at your opening. “Jus’ breathe,” he groans, digging his fingers into your hips as he sinks the tip of his cock inside and with one fluid thrust he plunges in fully until his cock completely disappears inside.

The fucking stretch of him is sublime, the usual slight discomfort from it near nonexistent as your body is more than ready to take him in. “Yes, yes,” you whimper out as your mind is consumed with the feeling. 

There is no restraint left in Simon to keep him in check; the high he feels from being inside you is too much and he wastes no time in setting a punishing pace. Bulky arms move underneath you to tilt your hips upwards as his hips snap into you with ruthless force until he’s pounding into you so deep his vision blurs and he must resort to sounds to convey his thoughts. 

Each thrust is emphasized with a primal groan from him as both your bodies start to glisten with perspiration from the exertion of the brunt of his desire for you that makes him pound into your dripping hole with fervor. Minutes pass in this hazy ecstasy until he decides that he needs a change of position. As good as you look beneath him, you are a true fantasy when you are on top and he craves that right now. 

“Need ya ta ride me, baby,” he murmurs. “Can ya do that?” 

You nod quickly; as long as he keeps making your body feel this way, you’ll do whatever he wants.

Making sure you are secure in his arms, he pulls out of you only long enough so that he can roll you both over until you are now the one on top. Getting you situated he immediately thrusts back inside and you instantly plant your hands firmly onto his chest, using it as leverage. Pushing down against his chest you begin to bob up and down on your knees as best as you can over the bulk of his body to stick to the relentless pace that he had already set. 

Simon runs his hands up and down your bare thighs as he takes in the view of you perched on top of him: your pretty eyes glazed over, your hair a beautifully disheveled mess hanging down around your face, your tits bouncing in tandem with you beneath your shirt. You are utter perfection as you ride. Those needy hands begin to roam up higher and higher over your stomach, pushing your shirt up as he goes until he can reach your breasts so that he can get at them to play with the nipples to make you whine.

Fucking hell, every inch of you is like a dream. And it’s all his.

It isn’t long before your movements start to get sloppy as the euphoria of it all draws you closer to your second release. This is too much for anyone to handle: you being entirely ravaged by him until you are so desperately lost in the pleasure of it all that you are in a complete state of full body bliss. That familiar pressure at the base of your spine is already building again and as long as you keep this rhythm you will be coming in no time. 

Even as you are lost in it all, ready to finish again, an irrational need creeps into your mind that you have never had before. The thrill of the risk is mind-numbly good, but this new though amplifies all that by ten. What if he didn’t pull out?  

It’s crazy, you know, but something about it just sounds so right. The delicious thought consumes your mind, making your limbs tingle with excitement. Screw the consequences, you can figure it all out later. Why the idea popped in your head in the first place, you don’t know, but now that it is here, you can’t get rid of it. You need Simon to come in you.  

“Don’t… pull…out,” you stammer out shakily. 

Simon’s head pops up. Did he hear that right? No, he must be so far out of his mind that he is not able to comprehend your words right now. “What?” he asks.

Your legs lock around his sides as you continue to bounce in that steady rhythm with no sign of stopping. “Want you…to come… inside me. Please, Si. Need it.”

Oh, God. It’s like a switch that gets flicked on in his brain as you plead with him to fill you up and all at once that absolutely feral part of his brain that has been kept dormant all this time is awakened with a fury.

Fuck, it's all over now. 

There is no possible chance in hell that he isn’t going to give in to that. He's so high off the feeling of you riding him into oblivion that any consequences that may come do not even register. So what if you have an accident? He’s confident that he’d be just fine with that. Shit, he loves you to the moon and back, so it’s not much of a risk in the end if a product of your love just happens to come from this. Right now the risk is worth the reward.

“Fill… me up,” you continue to beg. “Please…almost there.”

His mind is already made up. "Christ,” he groans desperately, “can't say no to that, pretty girl. Want me ta fill ya, that's what your gonna fuckin' get."

His large hands lock tight around your hips to hold them down as he strikes his hips up into your pussy, taking control to slam up into you from below harder and harder. The clenching of his abdominal muscles from each thrust has the sweat dripping over the contours of his chest. You take every last delectable inch he gives you as the room fills with the wet sounds of your bodies slapping against each other. Your mind is all static now, so lost within the bliss of your union that you can’t stand it and he isn’t far behind.

“Don’t stop…Dont’ stop,” you whine, your body shaking as he slams into you over and over again. 

“Never,” he grunts, trying to keep together through the overwhelming pressure gathering deep within him that threatens to throw him over the edge at any moment; you have to come first, that’s his rule. 

That warmth is almost at its peak again, the pressure rising harshly at the base of your spine; just a little more and you’ll be there. You’re barely hanging on by a thread, excited to experience being stuffed full by the only man you ever want to claim you. Fuck, you want him to claim you so bad it hurts.

A few more seconds of his roughness as you are jostled atop him and that is it, like a hot flash of white light you squeal out in unsteady whimpers as your second orgasm tears straight through you with such force you nearly fall off him, but Simon keep you upright. 

Finally he can let himself go. He’s nearly there, just a bit more and he is going to fill you full. A few more ragged, desperate thrust and he is spilling inside of you. A loud groan rips through his chest as he releases all that warm liquid up into you, milking his cock until he has nothing more left as he keeps your hips pinned to his; you had wanted this and he is going to be sure you get everything you want. His hips continue slowly moving against yours as he works you both through your highs for the next couple of minutes until it subsides and he comes to a stop, completely spent. 

“I’ve got ya, I’ve got ya,” he murmurs softly as you fall forward onto him and he cradles you against his burning chest while you continue to whimper faintly as your body shakes with the force of your lingering orgasm. 

Never have you come so hard before and fuck, neither has he.

Simon clings to you, gently rubbing down your back until your breathing calms and your heart stops thudding so violently; only then does he carefully pull out of you and help you move to his side. With nothing to plug you up, you can feel a warm gush that runs down to your thigh, a sticky reminder of what just happened. Simon catches a glimpse of it and it makes his heart thud to see all his milky white cum dripping out of you; the ultimate claim to what is his.

Propping himself up onto his elbow, he lays a heavy arm over top of you and wraps it around your back to pull you tighter into him. “We might ‘ave a problem,” he chuckles as he kisses your heated cheek. 

“What’s that?” you ask exhaustedly.

“Think I just found my favorite thing to do with ya,” he whispers. “And from the way ya just came, I might have ta do it again.”

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 ONLY U hanni pham x reader

↳ warnings: yn from paparazzi, and many other works under my masterlist, idol au, lesserafim member reader, hanni is jelly, swearing (of course there is its firecracker!yn)

hanni wasn’t a jealous girlfriend.

if anything, yn was the more jealous one between the two. there had been multiple times where hanni had to show up at the lesserafim dorms because yn, being petty after seeing a ship edit, refused to answer her phone all day.

it was honestly pretty funny to watch yn get jealous. the hothead never really showed those type of emotions like that, so whenever hanni got the rare chance to see yn pouting, she savored it.

“you were jealouuusss,” hanni teased, looking at yn, who was sitting on the floor with her nintendo in hand, completely ignoring her. hanni had barged into the lesserafim dorms after yn ghosted her all day..

“fuck off,” yn muttered, eyes glued to her game, while hanni sat down beside her, resting her head on yn’s shoulder. “just wait until the day you get jealous.”

“i don’t get jealous,” hanni replied playfully, earning a nudge that knocked her head off yn’s shoulder.

it was all fun and games between them—at least for hanni. she knew yn didn’t have an insecure bone in her body, so there was nothing to worry about.

and neither did she.

or at least, that’s what she thought.

hanni wasn’t lying when she said she doesn’t get jealous, so the feeling she had in her chest at the moment was very foreign.

she sat beside hyein who had a big ipad in her hand showcasing a live on weverse with yn and eunchae.

she was originally in her room but then she heard a voice that sounded a lot like her girlfriend so she went to investigate only to see a giggling hyein who had her eyes stuck on the screen.

“yn was so nice to me today.” eunchae said to the live smiling brightly at yn who just rolled her eyes.

“shut up.” the girl mumbled squinting her eyes to see the chat since she didn’t have her glasses on her which made hanni shake her head in a scolding way at the screen, she was definitely gonna bother yn about that later.

“she got us matching bracelets!” eunchae exclaimed showing her wrist and picking up bus as well. a chrome hearts bracelet being around both of their wrists, yn was an ambassador for the brand.

yn snatched her wrist from muttering curses under her breath but anybody could tell that she was more flustered than angry which made hanni shift uncomfortably at the sight.

“has yn gotten you a matching jewelry from chrome hearts?” hyein always felt cool just saying yn without unnie ever since yn told her she didn’t have to.

“she has… plenty of times” hanni trailed off watching eunchae wrap her arms around yn who didn’t make any effort to push her off this time, “but not matching.”

“you guys are like kuromi and melody,” eunchae read the comment before turning to yn with a big smile, “are we?”

“no.”

“that means yes guys.” eunchae said interlocking her hand with yn who just ignored the girl keeping her eyes on the chat, but she didn’t argue.

a frown made its way to hanni’s face, her and yn’s relationship obviously wasn’t open to the public but their friendship sure one, and it was an ongoing joke between the two fandoms that yn and her were kuromi and melody.

she watched as this time yn didn’t pull her hand away from eunchae and let the younger girl keep their hands interlocked, a sick feeling making its way to her stomach.

she doesn’t know why this was bothering her so much, maybe it was fact that even when yn tried her hardest to act like she was annoyed by her, it was obvious that eunchae will always be someone who had a soft part for.

and hanni wasn’t gonna lie she wished she was the only person that yn had a soft spot for.

“I’m going to my room.” hanni announced not wanting to watch the live anymore, “I forgot to finish cleaning.”

“oh yeah, yn is sleeping over, you begged her.” hyein teased.

oh right…

“what the hell is your problem?”

hanni looked up from her phone to look at a clearly annoyed yn who pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose which made her look less intimidating, both girls sat beside each other on hanni’s bedroom floor.

“what?” hanni replied looking off to the side to avoid yn’s gaze.

“don’t what me,” yn said aggressively, “you’re the one who begged me to sleep over and you’re not even talking to me what the hell is your problem?”

“there isn’t a problem.”

there was definitely a problem, after watching the live hanni had spent the last hour watching yn and eunchae ship videos on youtube.

“so you think I’m stupid.” yn asked when deeply offended that hanni would even think that she would take that as an answer.

“maybe I will if you don’t believe me.” hanni said with an attitude, “I said there’s no problem, leave me alone.”

as soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted it. before she could even process it, she was flat on her back against the fluffy carpet, yn straddling her, one hand firmly pinning hanni’s wrists above her head.

“let go of me!”

“I will after you tell me what’s wrong!”

”there’s nothing wrong you short stack of pancakes! let me go!”

“what the hell did you just call me?!”

“nothing! let me go!”

“I can do this all day, just communicate with me.”

“since when did you become a therapist, let me go!”

“I guess we’re staying like this.”

five minutes passed.

hanni stopped struggling breathing heavily looking up at yn who looked down at her unimpressed, “ready to talk.”

“you.”

“huh?” yn asked confused, her grip on hanni’s wrists loosening.

“I said you!” hanni exclaimed sitting up fast causing yn to fall off of her.

yn groaned as she sat up, “what are you talking about,”

“ask eunchae.” hanni grumbled.

“can you get to the point!” yn snapped, her patience was always slow, her pinning hanni down earlier was a great example of that.

“I’m jealous!” hanni snapped back, before covering her face with her hands, “ I’m jealous, alright?”

yn genuinely looked shocked at her girlfriends words, “you? jealous? why?”

“you and eunchae in your live today and you getting her matching bracelets and then letting her be all over you and then I went into this deep hole of watching ship edits of you guys,” hanni rambled.

“and YOU allowing her to call the both of you melody and kuromi when WE’RE melody and kuromi.” hanni exclaimed gesturing to their matching pjs hers and melody on it while yn had kuromi on hers.

there was silence for a couple of seconds before yn let out a small giggle.

“why are you laughing?” hanni asked in shock.

“because I never thought I’d see the day where you would be jealous and of eunchae? she’s like an annoying pet, but you’re my girlfriend.”

“this isn’t funny,” hanni grumbled shoving yn’s shoulder.

“it is!” yn replied, “because you have nothing to be jealous of its only you.”

“really?”

“yes,” yn rolled her eyes, “now please stop pouting it’s annoying.”

hanni wrapped her arms around yn who groaned, “that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” she teased, “and please never let eunchae call the both of you melody and kuromi that’s our thing.”

“ugh get off of me.”

[brucewaynehater101]

Tim Drake deserves a vacation from WE, honestly i have no idea about business, but i don't think 95% of the fandom has any idea of what a CEO does either so it's okay. after almost 2 years as the CEO of WE, Tim can finally say that the company is at a point where there's nothing he needs to do and it will still thrive, so he finally decides to take a vacation, and since Bruce still hasn't moved a single step to return as CEO no matter how many times Tim implied, if not outright told him to take back the position, he decides to kill two birds with one stone and make Bruce take the position back, by publicly spending the biggest amount possible in this vacation.

But that's where the first issue appears, despite being rich since he was born, Tim never spent that much money needlessly, Brucie used to spend money on the models he was dating before he became known as a single father, but there's no way that Tim could trust some random models, and he has a boyfriend, so that's out.

But he does have very handsome/beautiful friends that can and have followed him to hell, so surely they wouldn't mind fake dating him and his bf, and who doesn't like spending money, so he called Kon, Bart and Cass to meet with Bernard and he explained his plan, they accepted it way easier than Tim thought and so the vacation began, Tim doubted Bruce last more than a day before taking the company back once the whole world saw Tim Drake on a vacation spending thousands of dollars on his 'harem'.

Two months later the plan failed successfully.

first things first, the vacation was great and it only took Tim 3 weeks before he realized he never told the others that the polycule was fake so they went in this vacation thinking that Tim just decided they should all date and didn't even argue because they're used to Tim being right about pretty much anything, the hardest sell was Bernard and even then it was really fast for him to accept once he saw them and when he saw how much they loved Tim, so by the end Tim was well rested and gained two boyfriends and a girlfriend.

Second thing, all of Tim's partners have rock solid morals*, so when Tim said he wanted them to spend thousands of dollars they all assumed Tim was offering to donate for their charities of choice, so by the end of the vacation Tim donated millions to charities, founded at least 10 new charities, began a 5-year plan to end world hunger, and was awarded a nobel Peace prize.

Third thing, Bruce did indeed try to take over two days into Tim's vacation, the board all laughed as if Brucie had said a funny joke, he played it off but Lucius called Alfred later, Bruce then realized that Tim is too loved by Gotham and WE for him to justify taking the company from him, besides that Tim made sure that the company was safe from takeover and bribes, so even if he wanted to there's no way for Bruce to buy the board members, the final nail on his coffin was that Alfred grounded him once he heard from Lucius, Bruce tried to argue that he was too old to be grounded so he was grounded for twice as long.

In the end despite still being CEO, Tim was happy and well rested, even if he's surprised that Bruce genuinely didn't want to be CEO anymore, he thought for sure Bruce would ask him for the position back.

meanwhile Bruce spent the entire 2 months he was grounded for playing mental 3d chess to plan on how to get the company back, but he didn't even consider asking Tim to be CEO again, so he just brooded the whole time.

Absolutely fabulous. My favorite part is how YJ doesn't even question Tim being all like, "Yeah. We should all date for one of my plans."

They heard that and figured dating each other and Bernard is probably in their best interests since Tim declared it so. Obviously. This is Tim.

They are also not opposed to it either. Again. This is Tim. They may not yet be sold on Bernard, but Tim's reassured them it's fine (Tim was trying to tell them that Bernard is okay with the fake dating and he's sure they would get along great). [It also doesn't help that Tim's reasonings were: "You're all very attractive and I trust you"]

The best part is that Tim reassured them five separate times that they do not have to go through with it. YJ and Bernard thought he was just trying to make sure everyone was on board with trying to date each other. Tim just didn't want anyone to be uncomfortable fake dating.

I would absolutely love to see how this goes down.

Bart, Kon, Cassie, and Bernard are all flirting with each other and Tim. Tim, meanwhile, is sitting there all like, "Wow! They are acting so well! I'm so glad I can count on my friends (and boyfriend)!"

He's an idiot (affectionate).

He's also an idiot cause they've had many many discussions on boundaries and such with him (they also had a few without him due to Tim being the original tie between YJ and Bernard).

The best part would be if Bernard and the others figure it out before Tim. This thus turns into everyone else trying woo Tim into the concept. Bernard, as the official boyfriend, leads the charge. They are also very very careful to check what Tim thinks about polyamory and his comfort levels.

Anyways, let's cover the other sections (I got a bit distracted).

I have no clue what a CEO does but, in my biased opinion, Tim definitely does way more than he's required to. All he needs to do is go to a few meetings, review paperwork, and make decisions regarding the direction of the company/investors. He loves the R&D and charity (not sure the official name) departments too much, though.

He does get involved in other departments as well. It's not his favorite task, but Tim reviews employee contracts when they renew and employee benefits to ensure employees are getting well-above what's considered "fair" or "legal" (4 month parental leave, paid guaranteed lunch breaks, Rogue insurance coverage, double national requirements for sicktime [this is Gotham], medical bills assistance, daycare options, etc). This is why WE loves him.

Tim doesn't want to work as a CEO, but he does love seeing how much he can help others through his civilian work (and learning that he doesn't need to be Robin to save people).

Bruce was laughed out of the office, and Mr. Fox (I love him so much. He deserves all of my respect) was justified in ratting him out to Alfred.

Maybe when Tim returns the two of them start working together so Bruce is more involved with his company (behind the scenes but not in a way that steps on Tim's toes or undermines his authority).

[usedpidemo]

Mistakes were made, but not you (Le sserafim Yunjin)

“Why? Why weren’t you there? I needed you and you weren’t there!”

While Yunjin lashes out at you, grabbing at your shirt and using you as a proxy for the world and its ill-timed misfortunes, you can’t help but wonder if your presence would have changed the situation for the better.

Probably not. It’s one of those events that has to happen for character growth. 

—————

Tonight is supposed to be a night of celebration—a commemoration to the achievements, accomplishments, and accolades of the past year. The numbers and statistics never lie. They love her work, they love her artistry. They love her for what she sells and what she represents. But truth be told, Huh Yunjin couldn’t care less about what they think.

Thunderous cheers and colorful lightsticks representing different fandoms brighten the arena as the five Le sserafim members climb up the stairs to claim their award. Minutes ago, they pulled off the performance of a lifetime—an eight minute masterclass that represents everything the group stands for. You could see the exhaustion in their faces; barely mustering the strength to smile and wave to the crowd shouting for them. 

For the most part, the acceptance speech is nothing notable. Going through the motions, thanking the fans, the staff, the company, promising to do better in the future—it’s about as cookie cutter as it gets. As Yunjin tries her hardest to keep her tears from falling while she talks, the other four can only focus on her with varying weary looks. Chaewon looks especially worried; it’s her responsibility and burden to look after every single one of them. 

From the audience’s viewpoint, it’s seen as a non-issue, but the five girls recognize deep down it’s anything but. The only noteworthy thing is how suddenly quick they are on their feet heading backstage. It’s funny how everyone chases fame: to be in the moment, the spotlight. It’s funnier, Yunjin thinks, that she’d rather be anywhere else.

Unfortunately for her and the other artists attending, they’d have to wait a little longer. There’s backstage interviews and other idol obligations to do before they are finally let go. It’s not even worth all that lost time—that one award they receive ends up being their lone win for the night.

—————

Yunjin storms into your hotel room without a word with a fierce expression on her face. She doesn’t have to say it; she’s thankful she doesn’t have to spend another minute in front of the cameras, another minute being an idol—at least for the night.

In a sea of anger and auburn, Yunjin walks past you without acknowledging you at least once. She hastily drops off her purse on the coffee table before charging straight to her room and slamming the door. It’s easy to chalk up her frustrations on the monotony of the awards season—the countless hours of practice specifically for one event, the hours spent in the makeup room, the hours of interviews and fanservice—but you know she never acts like this. Rain or shine, hell or high water, she’ll walk around with a pleasant smile on her face.

Tonight simply isn’t one of those nights. You saw the whole ordeal happen in real time, and you’re already regretting the decision not to be there. At times, watching her on screen was tough. You can tell she was visibly uncomfortable, more clingy to her members than usual, when it’s normally the other way around. Admittedly, you have to give her props for holding herself back from crying when she has every right to. It’s a cold winter night, but that’s not the reason she’s trembling and shaking. It should be a night of celebration; instead, her sullen expression resembles the aftermath of complete, utter humiliation and defeat.

And it may as well be. You look through your phone; you find the messages from friends and acquaintances telling you the exact same thing; it might as well be considered spam. 

> Yo did you see what happened to Yunjin?

> Is Yunjin okay?!

> Yunjin fell! Fuck MNET!

> BRO YUNJIN FELL FROM THE STAGE WHAT THE FUUUUCK—

> Don’t tell her but I actually laughed when she slipped XD hope she alright tho!

Of course you know. It’s all caught on camera and in living color for the whole world to see. Even if it was cut from the YouTube edit, which is highly unlikely, it’s already out there on the internet spreading like wildfire. Numerous reposts with tens of thousands of likes, multiple articles immediately written after the incident—her name and her moment will remain immortalized in K-pop history for all the wrong reasons. It has the internet making jokes, it has the internet writing thinkpieces, it has the internet creating needless fanwars—it has the internet buzzing. 

You want to throw your phone from where your room is located—all the way up on the 27th floor—and pray it lands directly on a hater’s head. 

Sure enough, when you try to enter her room, it’s locked shut. The door won’t budge. All this awkward, quiet tension between you is terrifying, and sleeping her feelings off isn’t going to help anyone, not during these trying times. She needs comfort right now more than anything else. 

You give the door a respectful knock, only to be met with silence. Trying again and again leads you nowhere. Calling her name does you zero favors. Each futile attempt cuts away at your heart, little by little. Yunjin would rather isolate herself from the world than open up to anyone with no exceptions. Obviously, you have nothing to do with what happened (that is on the production team more than anyone) but you bear the responsibility and burden of being Yunjin’s partner, always there for her during the good times and the bad.

Now is not the time to give up or sulk. She needs comfort and love more than anything. She needs a shoulder to cry on. She needs a special voice to reassure her that everything will be okay.

Rummaging through her purse, you find one of her countless hairpins. It’s the oldest trick in the book—one that she always used to get you with guaranteed success. Already bent and straightened, perfectly shaped for picking—it’s as if she wanted you to reach her. You remember the disaster that was teaching you how to pick locks; dozens destroyed, to the dismay of her apartment doors, but she knew you’d need it at some point, and tried to help you to the best of her ability.

The lock comes undone. It’s a miracle, but it’s short-lived. What welcomes you as you enter her bedroom turns your uncertainty into shock and utter disbelief.

It’s imagery you only see in nightmares. Her bedroom completely ravaged and in utter ruin. Pillows, clothes, and objects scattered throughout the room. Yunjin is curled up against the wall with a blanket draped over her, concealing everything but her eyes. Bloodshot red from spilling her heart out. Around her feet lay two opened half empty bottles of alcohol and a spilled over wine glass. It takes everything not to drop to your knees or yell out “fuck” from the depth of your lungs.

Instead, it only comes out as an airy whimper, with your throat choked up seeing the sorry state your girlfriend’s in.   

Every little step you take may as well be tiptoed. Carefully treading into uncharted territory, who knows what you’ll end up meeting. The next words you pick will be the most important ones you’ll ever say. It isn’t as simple as telling her everything will be fine—that mistakes happen, life moves on, and this will be a memory she can laugh at a few years from now. She believes she’s ruined not only her career, but also her members, when anyone with common sense thinks otherwise.

With a deep breath and a gulp of your throat, you run through all the options. You pray you make the best choice.

“Jen Jen,” you mumble, crouching down in front of her, frowning. Try as you might, you can’t bring yourself to smile. You reach your hand out to peek through the curtain; she aggressively slaps down your palm. It’s as dire as you believe it looks. She sees the world crashing down before her. 

Watching her cry and hide herself away plucks away at your heartstrings. You don’t want to see her looking this sorry, this deflated. If her members—the people she’s closest with—couldn’t get through her, then how much less can you? Even so, you have to keep trying. Not as a fan nor an acquaintance, but as her partner.

Again, you’ll have to pick your way through another lock. This time, her heart. And it’s more delicate than any physical door. 

She’s drowning in her tears to realize the tug on her wrists. Little by little, you pull them apart. Yunjin’s bloodshot eyes glare right into yours, but she does nothing. Slowly, you curl your arms around hers, reaching around her back. For a moment, she appears vulnerable. Open. You press yourself close to her—

And then she hits you square in the face. 

Yunjin assaults you with a relentless barrage of fists, with one jab directly clocking your lips. They’re not the playful ones you’re used to. The kind that’s usually thrown after a serious argument, and you’ve only experienced a handful of squabbles. She sends you staggering back to the floor, violently screeching and attacking you. “Fuck you! Leave me alone!” she yells, punching you repeatedly with no sense of direction, only rage. You try to lift a hand in self-defense, only to be sent knocking down, to the point where you just give up and allow her to rip through you.

Looking into her eyes, having turned from grim to cruel, she looks as if you were there. As if you were the stage director. As if you were the one who pressed the button on the control panel. Her punches, aimless as they are, fucking hurt. You’re on the floor, defenseless, but you deserve it. You weren’t there when you should have been. The one award show you opt not to attend happens to be the one that ends up sideways. Of course she’ll pinpoint the cause back to you. That’s blind passion. That’s love.

She grabs you by the collar of your shirt, screaming right in your face, “Why? Why weren’t you there? I needed you and you weren’t there!” Angry as she is, you can tell she’s trying to restrain herself. She wants to humiliate you, but she also doesn’t want to smash your head through the marble floor. You have this ragged but innocent look on your face. The stubborn kind that would tell her that you won’t give up on her. That you’d happily take all the beating just to see her smile again. 

As it turns out, all she really needs is an outlet to air out her emotions. She has moved past her tears, and she has stopped beating you down, but everything else still remains. The glare. The dour frown. The fingers gripped to your collar. The room is silent, with the only sound filling the air is your low, airy hush of “Sorry.” Your hand rubs against her arm, conveying a message of reassurance that everything’s going to be okay.

Yunjin freezes. Unsure of how she feels, unsure of what to do. The moment stretches beyond the perception of time. You end up getting caught unprepared by what happens.

She doesn’t apologize for throwing you to the floor and verbally and physically assaulting you. You don’t really mind. A kiss is more than enough of an apology. Even more when it’s passionate, humming into your mouth before letting her tongue slip right between your lips, and her hands now pressed to your cheek. Lovemaking is how she speaks to you. Her lips do most of the talking. 

Her body does the rest.

Yunjin pushes you down to the floor. You watch her shed her leather jacket, in awe of her radiant beauty.  Her skin is porcelain, gleaming from the bedroom light. She’s a star, and shines like one. The reverence soon turns to amusement, mostly at how nonchalant she’s behaving. Minutes ago, she was hostile, out of control, threatening to turn you into a ruined mess. Instead, she’s about to leave you a ruined heap, but in a different way. 

She notices. She always does. Knows you like a book. She grins.

“You know I can’t be mad at you,” she says, lifting an eyebrow as she straddles on your lap. Smirking playfully, she’s making you double take and wonder if this was an elaborate ploy or if she was really upset. And if it’s the former, then you’d really feel betrayed and manipulated. “Sorry dear,” she adds, accompanied by a peck on your lips. “I know it’s not your fault nor mine, it’s just that we prepared so much and—”

“Don’t worry,” you interrupt, placing a hand on her bare shoulder, “I should have been there. I mean, what are the chances the one time I’m not there, this shit—”

“Shhh.” Yunjin plants a finger on your lips. “Babe shouldn’t worry about his Jen Jen’s performance. At least I looked cool falling, right?” she asks, both sweet and playful.

“Sure you did,” you chuckle, almost sucking on her fingertip as she points it directly at your lip. “Definitely the coolest fall I’ve ever seen. Will never be replicated. Ever. And I mean that.”

She laughs, heartily, even though she knows you’re flat out lying. “Yeah, because they won’t do stage designs like that ever again.” Then she kisses you again; she kisses you as if your lips are her lifeline. “I swear I’m gonna tell management not to do elevated stages when we go on tour!”

This is the Yunjin you know and love; the one that everyone knows her for. Laughs at her own jokes and her own mistakes, and smiles through it all. You’re amazed at how joined to the hip you both are when the cameras aren’t on. When you’re the only ones in the room—when she can truly be herself and not a fragmented version tailored to the public. You both have this special connection together that only you two can understand.

Her smile is so radiant, distracting even, that you recognize too little too late how tense you’re feeling.

“Jen Jen,” you tell her, looking down at her legs. She has a hand between her skirt, and her underwear is already partially down.

“What is it?”

“Can we take this somewhere else,” you tell her, flustered by your own request. There’s no skirting around the thought that you’d rather take her anywhere except for a cold floor in a messy bedroom. She hasn’t realized it yet, but you know Yunjin well; she would never let your imprints stick anywhere in her bedroom, hotel or her apartment, let alone make a mess. That, and for as much as you love the sight of her on top of you, you want to keep things on even footing—for now.

The expression she makes is priceless; it's all part of the charm. She rolls her eyes, scoffing at the thought, as if the very suggestion offends her. She takes a moment to let the notion sink in. “The audacity,” she thinks to herself, the idea seemingly harder to digest if anything else.

“You’re so unserious,” she comments, in the most blunt tone possible, it may as well be condescending. Her thighs press deeper into your jeans to further prove a point. If that’s what she wants., then you’re fine with that. It’s probably a better idea than yours, too. “You shitting me right now?”

“It couldn’t have hurt to ask.”

“Well it wouldn’t have hurt you to be here sooner,” she retorts, grinning, like those words are your biggest mistake. “Then maybe I would absolutely consider it.”

In reality, there’s nothing to consider, because you end up rolling on top of her after she first pounces on top of you. It’s how she usually greets you after a busy day: jumping straight into your arms, then it’s on to the bedroom.

But not tonight. You don’t make that far, just the table by the foyer, the chair she usually reads in, nearly tripping over the coffee table and landing somewhere more comfortable for you both in the living room. In your wake you leave behind a trail of clothes, yours and hers entangled together—mostly yours. It doesn’t take much to undress Yunjin when she’s dressed for the occasion, and by the time she’s halfway unbuttoning through your shirt, she’s on her knees, completely naked. 

She kisses you, leaves strawberry marked lips on your tummy, looking so wanton, so needy. Your eyes follow along as she continues down to your pants, before looking up to you with doe-eyed curiosity. She’s got an edge to her, they say, which really just means, “she’s really fucking hot.” Everything about her, from the attitude to the wardrobe screams fierce, someone who knows what they’re doing and doesn’t care about what others say. 

But behind closed doors, she’s more like the other girl you know. Someone she tends to look after. She looks vulnerable. It’s cute to watch her act like someone she’s not.

It’s impossible not to help yourself, to stroke your own ego, even at Yunjin’s expense. There’s no hiding that devilish grin; it’s way too obvious. Nodding, you brush your hand through her autumn colored locks as she undoes your jeans, reminding her who she really belongs to. 

“Fuck—oh God—” you moan, allowing Yunjin to do what she does best: use her lips to praise your cock. No preamble, no foreplay—just immediately taking you straight into her mouth. You were already hard, so it doesn’t take much effort for her to swallow you up. Both of you using your pent up frustration and impatience after weeks where it seemed as if you were worlds apart. 

Leaning back against the wall, you can only imagine how Yunjin looks taking it. Your hand firmly grips the back of her head, while she rubs her fingers along the length of your shaft. She forces out every curse and word of appreciation out of you with a deep tone, it’s almost concerning. 

“Slow down,” you mutter, knowing full well she won’t listen. Not for anything. Not for you. She wants this as much as you do. 

At first glance, it doesn’t really show—not in the playful, satisfied hums while she blows you nor in the slow, deliberate pump of her fingers around your base. It’s a little too leisurely for someone to act desperate. Then you peek through the curtain of sensory overload, and that’s when everything becomes clear. The furrow of her eyebrows, the fixated attention on your cock, the spread of spit and precum all over your erection. 

Maybe she does have a point after all.

She catches you staring, catches you slipping. Her eyes flutter open, then shut. In a flash, she goes from sipping on your cock to choking on it. Forcing you deep in her throat without your input. It leaves your head spinning, back at square one, with no control of Yunjin nor yourself, clinging your hands to the walls for support. 

“Jen Jen, shit—” you mouth, but it's near silent in comparison to the sloppy sound she makes gagging. It’s as if she’s laughing at you for looking so helpless against her.

The sensation of her slick mouth burns. Her ever increasing tempo and lack of care or comfort relentlessly pluck away at your resolve and restraint. Her eyes water as she violently pushes her own boundaries, her own limits. Stains gradually pile around her lips and chin, a mixture of her spit, seed, and lipstick. You have her hair wrapped around the print of your fingers, holding loose strands away from her gleaming face. Despite your best efforts, you aren’t able to see her beyond blurry little flashes and brief snapshots. Deep down, you’re set ablaze, with nothing to extinguish you. You look to the ceiling, to the side, anywhere but beneath you, trying to find some reprieve from the agony and tension pulling at your loins.

You end up finding it down there, where you want it the least.

Yunjin has you right where she wants you to be—tightly sealed between her strawberry lips as you helplessly cry out her name in a sea of curses and praise. Anticipating the moment you finally break, she zealously works around her gag reflex to keep you deep in her throat. It doesn’t help that she has your balls around her hand, rubbing away and humming in satisfaction at the big hot load that she’ll receive soon. At points, she’s pouting at the fact that you refuse to surrender yourself entirely to her, that you’re still fighting.

It’s a losing effort that ultimately delays the inevitable.

An echoed shout, a wide drop of your jaw, and right there, lightning strikes—you come undone. Yunjin welcomes you with an open mouth; your thick hot load spills down her throat without a single wasted drop. You’re left wide-eyed, shuddering, panting as your orgasm washes over you. Even so, she continues to squeeze away at your balls without remorse, pumping your cock to unload more cum down her thirsty, needy maw. 

Yunjin can’t hold in her delight and laughter after she licks your underside for any leftovers. You cushion back against the wall, your energy completely drained as she laps her lips and chin clean. Just like that, any remnant of what transpired hours ago, completely forgotten. It’s not a healthy coping mechanism—not in the slightest—but if it works, it works. 

That’s one department where Yunjin won’t let you down. 

“I wasn’t ready,” you huff, palming a hand on your thumping chest, cumbrously catching your breath. You mindlessly stare at the living room light, struggling to gather yourself. “Shit, Jen Jen, that was—”

“And we’re only getting started,” she interjects, quickly rising to her feet, pushing you upright. The grin on her face doubles down on the intent. “I’m not going to bed in a dour mood tonight, and you’re gonna help me feel better.”

God, she’s so damn good at this whole setting the mood thing.

You’re no different than anyone else, folding so easily as her fingers map out your body. Continuous circles around every part that belongs to her: from your hair, to your shoulders, arms, chest, down to your tummy, around your back, and everything else in between. Yunjin demands everything about you, her fiery gaze keeping you in tow. You’re tensing up, letting out these strained gasps, watching her watchful eyes dictate your every little move, reminding you who’s carrying the stick in the relationship.

She has you by the balls, quite literally—pumping you back to hardness—and she’s enjoying every moment of it. Teasing you with her flattering mien, she has every intention to leave you more tired and spent tonight than any day she’s worked in her life.

Then, a phone rings. It’s not the hotel landline, but from the pile around your legs. Suddenly, a lightbulb appears over Yunjin’s head, and the smirk on her lips is anything but subtle. 

“Would you look at that,” she teases, her grin growing an extra inch wider, and her ironclad grip loosens. Still, you have no room to breathe when she crouches down to dig your rumbling phone out of the pocket of your pants. She makes it a point to act shocked in response to the incoming caller, then shows her to you.

Kim Chaewon.

It’s an open secret within the group—how important of a piece she is between you two, the perfect reprieve and voice of reason when the other isn’t around. You’ve gotten tangled up with both Chaewon and Yunjin a few times, under the same guise of stress relief. In a way, they’ve grown closer together thanks to you. But the rather scornful frown she has tells you otherwise. As if she’s going to lose the one last thing keeping her head straight. Forget that Chaewon is respectful of your relationship; if she gets in the way between her and your dick, she’ll cut her down, and that goes for anyone else too, friendship be damned.

“Be a good boy and take care of the call, will you?” she asks, tone playful, handing the phone over to you. You have no say, other than to follow her command. In the process, you feel your groin tense up. You look down and find your cock sandwiched between her heavenly thighs, choking up from the new sensation of her creamy skin. 

When you try to look away, she redirects your eyes back to hers. Her palm meets your chin. Hard. She curls her lips, expressing disdain and reinforcing her control. There’s your first and last warning. 

You’ve never struggled so much just opening your own phone. It’s not that Yunjin just hacked into it; her imprints are everywhere. The very lockscreen is her kissing you, your face cropped out of frame and your homescreen is a candid photo of her more bold outfits.  If not for the texts from the other members and loved ones, you’d look like the creepiest, most obsessive stalker ever. You can feed tabloids and news outlets day-to-day information, down to the most intricate details. She’s a huge part of you, and it’s gonna eventually ruin you—

“Hurry up, dipshit.” 

Yunjin’s stern tone snaps you from your daze. Hard to maintain a steady head when she’s slowly choking you out and she’s thrusting your cock in and out of her legs, still sore from her blowjob and while you’re still reeling from your orgasm. She’s perfectly built for fucking for hours on end; you’re surprised you hasn’t caught on after so long.

“Hello?” Chaewon’s voice pulls your focus away, but only briefly. Almost instinctively, Yunjin’s legs press tighter against your hard cock in response. She raises her eyebrows, shaking her head, demanding you answer the call. No context clues, no verbal cues, just wing it. 

“He-ey, Chae.” Your voice comes out gruff, airy. A brief glimpse down and you find the growing stain on Yunjin’s thighs. Your cock entering and exiting the comfort of her legs. She doesn’t appear satisfied, not even a little. 

“Is Yunjin there with you? She’s been gone after we got back to our rooms. She's not been herself after—you know—and we’ve been trying to comfort her to no avail.”

“Yeah, she’s here with me—” you say, looking directly at her, and she nods, still stiff and sour. She leans forward, her tongue pressing against your skin, mumbling something incomprehensible on your neck. Somewhere along the lines of “If you tell her, I’m going to fucking kill you,” and she sounds like she means it.

Try to suppress your gasps and whine, you can’t hold yourself back. It affects your inflection, from gravelly and small to high-pitched and nasally. You’re one wrong move away from meeting disaster, and Yunjin is the one goading you to your own pitfall. She revels running you around in circles, leading you like sheep to a shepard. You can’t think straight from all this built up pressure. “She’s good! She’s doing just fine—”

Out of nowhere, she moans. Loud. Her tone is so obvious, it can’t be anyone but her. Any sort of illusion or pretense is immediately dashed, right then and there. You almost drop your phone, barely managing to save it with a glint of clarity.

You don’t hear from Chaewon for a bit, letting you indulge in Yunjin’s seductive motions. Your body is the perfect outlet for her pleasure: kissing and marking around her neck, her fingers tracing your arms to your chest, and your cock comfortably snug between her sculpted legs. You regain some semblance of control by pumping away between her warmth, but it’s hollow; she lets her thighs press down while you thrust quicker and quicker. At first, she’d been the one bringing all the friction, until your hips begin to glide involuntarily, the wetness dripping from her thighs and around your cock making the transition near-flawless. 

Soon, the room fills with the sound of her moans, till it becomes oh-so clear you’re fucking her. The call remains active, but you still hear nothing from Chaewon’s side. The phone in your hand is what’s holding you back, but even you feel your control slip away again; against Yunjin’s demand to pretend everything’s normal, when there’s nothing normal about the position you’re in. The only thing unusual is the fact that Chaewon isn’t there to watch, preferably while pleasuring herself.

“Shit, Yunjin, you feel so fucking good—” you sputter, clutching Yunjin’s nape as she curses and whines against your shoulder. Suddenly, you hear Chaewon again, but you’ve practically stopped caring. She’d understand.

“Yeah, well, I don’t blame her for going to you. I’d do the same right now, but I gotta take care of the girls as the leader.” Chaewon sounds so diplomatic about the matter, it’s almost surprising. “Just—” she pauses when Yunjin loudly kisses you, cooing and moaning about how big you are in the direction of your phone. “Please tell her to come back here by morning, all right?”

“Sure—thing.” Your tone jumps on the second word, as your cock hits a particularly deep stroke that teases the outline of her cunt. 

“Oh, and Kkura said hi, by the way.” 

You’re amazed at how understanding she is.

“Okay.” You look down and you see Yunjin adjust your cock around the entrance of her pussy with her hand, impatient and done with the teasing. All the possible replies to maintain normalcy and your best response ends up being a simple, hurried “Hi.”

“Bye.” 

You drop your phone right as Chaewon hangs up the call. Yunjin immediately kisses you straight in the lips, sliding her tongue between your lips. She lets out this strained whine when you grab her ass, lightly pushing her away. Miraculously, she doesn’t fight back or lash out. 

“Don’t you wanna cum right in my pussy?”

“No, Jen Jen. Let me finish right in your thighs.”  

Yunjin flashes this sad, deflated frown, but she ultimately concedes. She’s this multifaceted character only you might ever hope to understand. She's a perfectionist and wants things her way, but she’s also soft and vulnerable. You feel guilty making this rather huge request, but she reassures you by pressing your cock comfortably between her legs. Your worries soon disappear when the friction of her heat keeps your hips moving. The sight of your dick moving in-and-out keeps you preoccupied. 

Even she forgets about her disappointment too, hypnotized by the continuous rhythm of your cock. She pulls your head in, moans all these profanities of varying tones in your ear. The way you both pull each other’s bodies apart, your expressions twisting in pleasure, demanding more—you might as well be in bed, and not breaking your knees and backs against the living room wall. 

You’re not sure what’s going to break first—your legs, your back, your hips, or your cock.

“Oh—fuck—Yunjin,” you groan, losing yourself in her asphyxiating heat of her skin, on the verge of another climax. You have one hand marking her ass as you both grind into each other’s bodies. God, you’re both made for one another. Drowning in her tightness, you thrust deep between her legs. Same spot, same stroke, same result. You remember where and how well you’ve fucked her, it’s almost muscle memory to you. It drives Yunjin crazy. 

She senses your incoming orgasm and shouts. The need for you to cum isn’t a request, but a full demand. Something to be expected. Her voice hits those familiar high notes that aren’t far off from her usual recordings, and she firmly clings to you. As if you ever had any other thought than to finish on her pencilike legs. You let yourself succumb to the sensation, let all the pent up pressure set itself off while you bask in that delirious high.

The way Yunjin clenches her thighs around your cock, she may as well have snapped it off.

You both mirror each other’s expressions; eyes completely shut, jaw completely agape, resting in each other’s bodies. The only difference being that Yunjin is way, way louder than you. Your mind goes completely blank, with nothing but her name drawn out from the curve of your lips. Your back is aching; your knees are tingling, ready to fail at any time. Nothing registers for you except her voice, her endless moan that rings in your ear. It’s only after her legs involuntarily slacken their grip that you fall.

To the floor, that is.

And you stay down—a minute, maybe several, completely shaken up and your head still riding that high. Somewhere in limbo. One hand gripped to her waist, the other on her leg. You forget to breathe. Your brain doesn’t register the concept of exhaling, only taking in air. The world around you appears to pause completely. 

And then your phone beeps. Still dazed, you completely ignore it.

Yunjin brings you back to life. She has one hand gripped against the wall, the other on your hair—which you now just realize—gasping for much needed air. She can’t muster up the strength to open her eyes, so you assess the damage. It’s as disastrous as it looks: a huge splatter of cum around her legs, dripping down to her feet. To the floor. To your pants. 

You don’t say a word; you don’t really have anything meaningful or productive to add. The simple question of whether or not she feels better, but you know she’ll say it won’t be enough. That she wants your cum right in her pussy, no matter how spent or sore you are. Maybe you can quietly weave your way out of a nightlong bedroom session.

So you look at your phone, removing yourself from the situation. There’s two new messages, both from the same person—Chaewon. Nothing noteworthy, just the reminder to send Yunjin back early in the morning. The idol life never really stops.

Yunjin calls out to you, abruptly intercepting your attention. “Hey.”

You look up and find her looking down at the details, slowly gathering her bearings. She runs a finger on a sticky patch on her skin, then tastes your seed with her tongue. “What’s up?”

She ignores you for a moment to gather more cum to lap, then stares directly at you. “We should have done this in front of a mirror.”

You pause. It’s hard to believe Yunjin telling you this, when she’s been the biggest skeptic. She’d rather have it in bed, on the table—anywhere that won’t allow her to see herself. The uncanny image of a prim, desirable idol bent over while someone uses her.

With that in mind, you chuckle. “We do it all the time. Give it a break.” 

—————

You both end up doing it anyway.

It’s two in the morning, and you vividly have Chaewon’s request at the back of your mind. The group’s flight back home is in six hours, and Yunjin has to be there with them for breakfast. It’s not like you’ll be away long term; she has three days-off after today. Days when you can spend all the time in the world together to your heart’s content. But fuck, Yunjin is so goddamn insatiable, she can’t go at least three hours without your cock somehow around her. You don’t end up getting sleep, because she’s so needy for your cock she can’t help but stroke it or blow it back to hardness. 

Your suggestion? A late night coffee run that ends in predictable fashion: you, fucking Yunjin from behind in the comfort of a cafe restroom. 

Yunjin’s outfit barely qualifies as casual; if anything, it’s her performance fit (a sports bra and a short skirt) from earlier, topped only by the leather jacket she went to your room with. Yet none of that matters when they’re pooled on the floor, with your hand squeezing her bare breast and the other pressed on her shapely ass. And there’s your hard cock, pounding away at her soaked cunt like it’s second nature—which it is—and it’s quite the motivating sight. Watching it appear and disappear in her pussy, hearing her hushed pleas, echoed cries, and every lewd sound in between.

The cafe across your hotel is completely empty, which is to be expected. You can count the number of working staff on one hand, and most of them are fast asleep or busy on their phone. You’re not making any excuses for fucking Yunjin at a place like this; you’re merely laying out the scene. 

You can blame Yunjin for your precarious position. Any attempt to make some small talk she makes it about you. About missing your cock so much, about how she wants you to fill her pussy up and make her feel better. As if two orgasms wasn’t enough. You wouldn’t be surprised if she asked you to fuck her right then and there, in front of the cafe where everyone can see. You end up agreeing to a compromise, but it’s merely delaying the inevitable. The door is locked shut, nobody’s around to hear, and no one really cares.

If only it were that simple.

“Fuck—so—fucking—big!” cries out Yunjin, as if you were in the privacy of your hotel room and not in front of a public restroom. She gives it to you again, praises you in both murmurs and screams, her hands glued on the edges of the sink, eyes fluttering open and closed with her jaw agape on the surface. It’s as filthy as you imagined, if not more. Only you can see the full extent of the damage you’re making, and it is breathtaking. 

She beckons you to fuck her harder, give her more, tells you not to stop. The idea never crosses your mind. When she yells and mewls, she’s making sure each one is louder than the last. You can tell she has nothing to lose. If she’s going down, she’ll drag you down with her. 

“You’re so fucking tight, Jen Jen,” you groan out, looking at your entangled bodies in the mirror, at her arched back, at the curvature of her ass, at your cock spearing her hard. You puncture each of your next three words with increasing emphasis. “So—fucking—tight.”

As the sex dissolves into deeper madness, so does your restraint. You’re fucking her through the sink, pounding away with reckless abandon, with zero care for comfort. Thoughtless, impulsive drops of ‘tight,’ ‘fuck,’ and even a single ‘slut’ bomb—words that can get you cancelled on-air. Yunjin shudders, letting out this drawn out ‘yes’ in response, as if admitting the truth—to your utter surprise (sarcasm). Her core clenches against your cock, stretching her out. So wet, so needy—

It’s a strange thing to believe, but this is Yunjin’s first orgasm of the night. Her lands lay flat on the sink, and her mouth lolls wide, screaming your name like you’re the most important person in the world. The intense heat, the suffocating pulse of her cunt, drowning your cock—

Fuck, it’s too much for your already aching cock. And her thighs and lips were brutal in their own right. 

Moments after hers, your very own climax follows. You’ve already struggled holding back twice; whatever amount of resolve you had left is non-existent. Moving from her chest at some point, the hand on her hair yanks harder. Pushing your hips as far as they can go, wishing your cock can somehow enter her womb—you ignore the possibility that you might be hurting her. 

‘Hurts so good’ exists for a reason.

The remnants of your orgasm continue to leave Yunjin in shambles. A brief look at the aftermath, and the first impression is that you didn’t fuck her hard enough. Your hot cum spilling from her splayed, ruined hole, her clothes on the other side of the restroom, and your pants receiving some of her hot slick. Yunjin remains bent on the sink, huffing through her own climax, your hand deeply imprinted on her ass, and marks, scratches, and rosy patches on her back—vestiges of hours gone by. 

You remain like this for a little while longer: cuddling up against her frame while she rests on the sink, softly kissing around her ear, brushing strands of loose red hair. She’s gorgeous, there’s no denying that. When she performs, when she’s being herself, when she’s getting pounded hard—but she looks best when she’s calm, when she’s at her softest, at her most vulnerable. When you’re all alone and you both have nothing to hide. At the end of the day, you both need each other. For everything.

—————

You and Yunjin might as well be strangers. 

It’s as if the past seven hours happened in a different timeline. Both of you casually lounge in the still lifeless cafe, drinking the nonexistent traces of your iced coffee. You scroll through social media; Yunjin still dominates the trends and new reposts of the viral accident pop-up like they’re produced from a factory. She’s doing the same, reading through all the comments. Some memes, some praising her professionalism, some simply to get that verified ad revenue. 

This will be completely forgotten in a week. Yunjin’s career will come out unscathed. People move on. She will, too.

Yet you still remain awkward with her, completely undecided on the words that she really needs right now. She needs you more than just your body. 

“Jen Jen,” you whisper, before you freeze up at her anxious gaze. She waits for a follow-up, a sentence, anything. It never comes. 

She frowns. She’s not mad, only disappointed.

The sun begins to rise over the city, signaling the start of a new day. Knowing this, Yunjin adjusts her jacket and rises from her seat. You never told her once.

She walks through the door, and steps outside—but not before turning and taking one last concerned look at you. You quietly mouth ‘Love you,’ and surprisingly, she smiles. The Yunjin you know and love.

‘Love ya.’ 

—————

(A/N: againsorryfornotpostingmuchlatelyohgodivebeensobusy—

Ginger/red hair Yunjin didn't grow on me at first. Then the Good Bones teaser dropped. The strut. The attitude. The fact they allowed her to walk around in her bra and panties. What the fuck. I've been so down bad for her lately, and so are you. Looking forward to their new music! Thank you for reading!)

[bunnys-kisses]

hii bunny!!! can I get a chocolate cake and whisky with seb or jenson???

bakery menu

want to order your own? take a look at the menu! there's a little something for everyone! i also write for fandoms outside of f1 so if that interests you let me know! i love getting orders! this one i chose jenson button, ever day i get seb from someone hahah, and i will write them. but thank you for the request!

chocolate cake ("do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day.") + whisky (degrading language) served by jenson button (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, dirty talk/degrading language, age gap (20s/40s), mean!jenson, brat!reader, thigh riding, masturbation, non-penetrative sex, clothed man/nude woman, couch sex, nipple play, references to spanking

jenson liked good behaviour from a good girl. a good girl meant a good life, without any troubles. but, there was something a spitfire little thing that he could fold to his pleasure and fuck submission into.

you had been the hardest brat to break, and jenson lived for it. there was nothing like after a long day taking you and fucking any stress of the day out of his body. pushing his cock as deep as he could get it.

letting the messy tip kiss your cervix.

it was a rainy day in july and you had tracked your wet socks through the house after you came back inside. you were soaked from head to toe, but you should've waited for him to come get you from the front door with a towel.

now he had you naked with your wet clothes in a pile on the floor. the older man had his hands on your bare hips and his lips on your hard nipple. he was massaging it between his inscors.

your ass was burning from his earlier smacks, you were surprised you didn't get a spank for every drop of water you got on the hardwood floor. now your nipples were being bit up as you straddled his thigh.

he pulled away a little and rubbed both nipples between his pointer finger and thumb, even giving them a big tug. which made you squirm, "you have to behave, love. you can't be bringing your wet clothes into the house." his voice was firm, "you're such a silly little girl, aren't you? just making a huge mess for me to clean up." he shook his head with slight disappointment which made you whine.

you whined, "please ah! c'mon, you're being so mean!"

he looked at you, eyes went for for a moment. he laughed, "i'm being mean? you got an entire puddle right in the middle of my living room in the house i pay for." he put his lips back on the soft skin and tried his best to leave dark bruises on the skin.

you rubbed your slick pussy up against his thigh, the rough jean material he wore made the hairs on the back of your neck stand out. you were painfully hot like this, naked while he was clothed. a visible sign of submission.

he pulled away from you and relaxed against the couch. he took his cock out of his jeans and spit in his hand before he started to jerk himself off. he said, "come now, love. hop to it. if you want to get yourself off, i'm not helping you. brats have to do things for themselves." he was going to love the sight of this.

you started to move up against his thigh. you straddled it and rubbed your achy clit across it. shivers ran up your spine and made your bruised nipples hard. oh, you were just painfully adorable. look at the sight of you, the little brat he had trained so well.

you were capable of being good, you just needed reason to be. but, don't worry jenson would give you reason after reason to be on your best behaviour.

he continued to jerk himself off, occasionally spitting i his hand more. sadly his hand really wasn't like the sweet cunt that was being dragged across his clothed thigh. he eyed you up and down. from the blissed out expression on his face to the bounce of your bruised breasts.

"who owns this pussy, huh? who owns it because you can't be responsible for it. who owns it the way this house and your car are owned?" he panted heavily as he felt his heartbeat in his ears.

this was just too much and he knew his words were making you crumble.

you croaked as you continued to ride his thigh, "you own it. you own it, jenson." you swallowed roughly, "just like you own everything else." you whined as you felt the pleasure race up your body.

you clothed onto him tighter and continued to move your poor cunt up against his clothed thigh. it was almost pathetic, a woman much younger than him was getting her clit stimulated by the over priced denim he wore.

he cupped your ass with his free hand, the bruised cheek still felt hot under his broad hands. you swallowed and continued to move, he maintained eye contact with your body. you looked so painfully erotic, like a good proper whore.

"you're mine, got it?" he asked as he continued to fuck his hand. as much as he'd love for it to be your soft pussy or perfect throat. but, for now he just had to make due.

you couldn't deny it, it was a fact. you were his, he had sank his claws into you long ago and wasn't letting up. so you better be a good girl and continue to fuck yourself on his thigh.

"please, honey."

he landed a smack across your ass and goped the cheek once more. he felt the thrill of pleasure course through your system as he continued to thrust his cock. the pre-cum was all over his hand as you left a wet mark across his pant leg.

you looked like a horny little puppy. it was sickeningly disgusting and only riled him up further.

"you're such a bad girl." he said, "getting off like this." he grabbed your hand and made you touch his slick cock, "do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day. and then you turn around and act like such a brat." his voice was laced with venom

it was all a little too much for you.

you dug your nails into his shoulders as you came, making a mess of the rough jean of his pants. it left a pretty stain as your wetness seeped into the fabric. a big dark spot from his baby girl.

you rested against him and panted heavily, pressing a lot of your weight into him. he relaxed further into the couch with his cock still in his hand. he said to you, "you're such a dirty little slut." he panted, "you always want more, more, more." he swallowed, "but i'll always give you what you want."

"jenson." you whimpered.

a few more jerks of his hand and he finished. ropes of cum got all over the front of his white t-shirt, but he didn't care. he got to see his naked little slut get herself off on his thigh.

he knew his jeans needed a good clean thanks to you. he let go of his cock and panted heavily. his cock twitched when he watched you lick at the cum on his hand. you did it on instinct and moan when the saltiness hit your tongue.

"you're going to be the death of me, honey.' he said as you cleaned him up. he knew he couldn't survive another round like that. so he whispered in your ear, "why don't you put all of our clothes in the wash and meet me in our bedroom. i'll take good care of you." then groped at your bruised ass cheek.

you knew how to behave, jenson ensured that over the time you have been dating. and while he loved your firecracker spirit, nothing got him harder than you dutifully getting up from his lap and going to wash the clothes like a good girl. <3

[ellecdc]

HEY POOKIE!!!!

Could I request a fic with either poly moon water or poly marauders where reader has had mental health issues but they were getting better and then they slip back into them. This happens to me in moments and I have to remind myself that it’s part of my progress but it would be so nice if I had someone else to say it too. No pressure lovely!!!!

I ADORE all of your marauders work!! Like OML I never know how much I needed poly moonwater until youuuu❤️❤️❤️😘

hi babes! totally get where you're coming from re: mental health issues. It's a marathon, not a race. and I'm so glad you love moonwater! my evil plan of converting the entire fandom (lol) is succeeding. I opted to go with the marauders but it's quite sirius centric

poly!marauders x fem!reader who is struggling with her mental health

CW: non-sexual nudity [nothing is described], discussion of dark mental headspace and anxiety/depression [again, nothing is described]

You felt awful.

You knew the boys would be understanding, but it didn’t make you feel any better about your behaviour.

You’d found yourself slipping back into familiar and darker headspaces as of late, and though you couldn’t deny the disconcerting comfort that familiarity brought, you knew you couldn’t allow yourself to fully fall back into it; you worked so hard to move beyond this, and you had been doing so well.

It hurt worse now that you felt like you weren’t just disappointing yourself anymore, but also disappointing three other people who - for whatever reason - cared an awful lot about you.  

You’d been inching closer and closer to a panic all day and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed when you got home and pretend the world didn’t exist for a few hours days weeks. 

Those kinds of plans don’t work when you live with three other people, two of which have the tendency to coddle you.

You knew that irritability was one of the symptoms of your anxiety, but knowing that didn’t stop the sting of your words as they left your lips. 

James was too nice, too bright, too happy, too lovely. You felt like the polar opposite of your sweetest boyfriend, which made you feel even more disappointing than you already had. And Remus was a fixer; he had a tendency to see a problem and immediately start problem solving, but that’s not what you needed right now.

Of course, you didn’t say that.

Of course, you got angry and lashed out at them before storming off to your room and slamming the door.

What started off as feeling blue quickly spiralled into a low affect. Feeling low left you increasingly anxious. Your anxiety left you feeling disappointing and less than, which caused you to feel depressed. The more depressed you got, the more anxious you became. The more anxious you became, the more depressed you felt.

It was a vicious cycle and you were stuck in its seemingly never ending assault on you.

And now, you weren’t just depressed and anxious; you were also feeling terribly guilty and overwhelmed at the thought of having upset Remus and James. 

Remus, who only wanted to help, who only wanted you to feel better, who only wanted to care for you. 

And James, who only wanted to perhaps share a little bit of his joy with you on the off chance it could brighten your day.

You were awful.

Horrid.

You didn’t deserve them, and they didn’t deserve you - they deserved better. You deserved nothing.

You’re not sure how long you had been standing under the spray of the water with your head against the cool tile when you heard a gentle knock against the glass of the shower door.

You felt the irritability surge in your blood again at the intrusion of your pity party, but tried your hardest to take a steadying breath before you hummed a quiet “yeah?”

“Can I come in?” You heard Sirius’ voice ask from the other side, apparently having gotten home sometime during your meltdown.

He could, though you weren’t sure he should.

You were terrible after all.

Horrid. 

The glass door popped open and Sirius shoved his face in. You didn’t bother turning your face towards him but you could feel the questions permeating his being nonetheless.

“I’m coming in.” He announced, deciding on your behalf. 

You heard the sound of his clothes falling to the bathroom floor, and you knew if Remus were in here he’d be scolding him: “there’s a hamper right there, Sirius.” 

But Remus wasn’t here because you were awful and you couldn’t bring yourself to care about the sodding hamper nor Sirius’ clothes littering the floor.

Some of your steam escaped as Sirius opened the shower door fully and you were accosted with cool air that left your body covered in goosebumps. He corrected it quickly by standing under the spray with you and pushing his front up against your back, leaning his chin on your shoulder.

“Fuck, you take hot showers.” He commented.

Usually you’d laugh.

“Sorry.” You said instead.

He rubbed at your hips where his hands had fallen with his thumbs, eliciting another layer of goosebumps on your skin. 

“You’re not feeling too good, are you baby?” He asked quietly.

You let out an exhausted breath. “I don’t feel good; I’m no good.” You responded just as quietly.

Sirius ducked his chin down to kiss your shoulder before quickly replacing it.

“That’s not true.”

You didn’t respond, glad that the water streaming over your face hid the evidence of the tears escaping your eyes.

Wordlessly, Sirius pulled away and grabbed your shampoo, working it into your hair. You did nothing to help him in his task, keeping your head pressed against the shower wall as he lathered the soap on your scalp. He pulled the handheld down to rinse it out, paying special attention to point the spray away from your face since you didn’t seem too fussed over protecting your own eyes. He combed some conditioner through your hair and rinsed it out in much the same manner before grabbing a loofa and lathering body wash over your form.

“Sometimes it’s two steps forward and one step back.” He commented, finally breaking the silence that had long been only the sound of the water falling and each of your breaths. “But that still means you’re one step forward.”

A sob escaped you, causing Sirius to pause in his ministrations and pull you back into his chest again.

He didn’t say anything else; he knew better. Of course he would, Sirius sometimes understood this side of you better than the others did. Sirius had a tendency to fall into darker times too, also having a penchant for lashing out at those closest to him when things felt like too much.

He let you cry, standing under the likely too-hot-for-his-tastes water, as he rocked you back and forth with your head leaned back, resting on his shoulder as you faced toward the ceiling. 

“Do they hate me?” You whimpered eventually, trying to convince your lungs to take in slower, deeper breaths.

“Of course they don’t; you know they don’t.”

“Are they mad at me?”

You could feel Sirius shake his head, but he answered you verbally anyway.

“No, doll. They worry, is all.”

You didn’t like that. You didn’t want them to worry. “I’m fine.”

“I know you are.” He agreed readily. “They do too.”

You let that sit in the foggy air for a little bit.

“Do you know that?” He asked eventually.

“Know what?”

“That you’re okay? That you’re just fine?”

You thought about that for a moment. You were sad, and you were anxious, but were you fine?

You admitted to yourself you felt the familiar tendrils of your darker self pulling at you, but you could also admit it was different this time. You were better, you had been working hard, and most importantly, that hard work was paying off.

You may have been two steps forward and one step back, but you were still one step forward from where you started.

“You’re sure they’re not mad at me?” You asked instead, earning you a chuckle as Sirius turned you in his arms to hold your face between his hands. 

“No one is mad at you, love. I swear it. You are, however, very loved.”

You offered him the best smile you could muster and let him pull you forward for a chaste kiss. 

“Then… yes, I know I’m fine.” You agreed eventually, earning you a beaming smile from your boyfriend.

“Atta girl.” 

Your felt your cheeks heat up at the praise and pushed your forehead into his chest.

“Can we get out of this torture chamber, now? I swear this water is being heated by hellfire.” He joked, leaning around you to turn off the shower without your consent.

“It’s really not that bad.” You argued, earning you a scoff.

“I’m red, doll. The water has marred my skin, perhaps permanently.”

You continued arguing about proper shower etiquette as you rubbed lotion into your skin (and then into Sirius’ for his troubles [he really was sort of red]), and changed into your comfies.

You headed towards the living room before you remembered you were sort of ashamed with yourself for the way you had spoken to the other two boys, but Sirius didn’t allow you to hesitate in the hall as he caught your elbow when your steps faltered and ushered you into the room.

“Boys, we’re really going to have to do something about her shower habits.” He commented as if a) nothing had happened, and b) you weren’t even there. “I’m surprised she hasn’t completely melted her skin off." 

“Perhaps hot showers are how she gets so beautiful, Sirius, ever think about that?” James jested back, earning him an indignant scoff.

“Are you saying I’m not pretty, Jamie?”

“As pretty as Y/N?” Remus interjected, looking between the two of you as if assessing. “No, not at all.” 

“Well I-” Sirius began, but you interrupted.

“I’m sorry.”

Everyone’s shoulders fell as they turned to look at you, clearly willing to brush over the tension if that had been what you wanted.

“I was rude and irritable when I got home, and neither of you deserved that. I’m sorry.”

“Angel…” James started, opening his arms for you which you readily accepted and tucked yourself into his chest.

“I was never mad to begin with, but I’ll go ahead and forgive you right now if that’ll make you feel better, okay?” He murmured into your wet hair.

“Okay. Thank you.” You murmured back.

“You’re too sweet for us, dove.” Remus commented, moving to place a consoling hand on your back.

“I was the opposite of that earlier.” You chuckled at your own expense. 

“Please.” Sirius scoffed derisively. “These two are too nice, especially when you feel like shit; I’ve given them a far harder time than you have, dollface.” 

“It’s true.” James said quickly. “He once told me he’d rather have a cup of tea with his mother than snuggle with me when he was in one of his moods once.”

You gasped and looked at Sirius in horror. “You did not.”

Sirius, not at all guilty, shrugged nonchalantly. “Sure did, and I meant it too.”

“Oh come off it.” Remus chided, pulling Sirius into his side who broke out in a grin, effectively eliminating his earnest facade. 

“No, of course I didn’t mean it.” He relented, leaning further into Remus’ side. 

“I don’t like myself very much when I’m like this.” You admitted quietly.

“We’ll love you enough for all of us in the meantime then, yeah?” James asked, pulling you into his arms tighter.

“Just be patient with yourself dove, you’re much too hard on yourself. We’re here now and we’ll be here when you feel better too.” Remus added.

“Can’t get rid of us that easily, dollface.” Sirius concluded, shooting you a wink.

Two steps forward and one step back.

But you were still one step forward.

You knew you would make two more steps forward again soon.

[reallyromealone]

Hi! Just sending in this ask before I forget my idea, dont answer this until your asks are open again I just want to write this down before I forget!! Boten x single father! male reader, reader works at a restaurant and Boten comes in one night and Mikey takes a liking to him, his daughter sits in the staff room and draws/plays because she’s too young to be home alone- 🦇 anon

Title: cute waiter

Fandom: Tokyo revengers

Characters: bonten

Fic type: fluff

Pairings: Mikey x reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, single dad reader, fluff, nameless daughter, Mikey has that weird ass rizz as the kids say

Notes:

Summary: bonten goes to a small restaurant while in town for business and Mikey falls for the cute waiter.

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄

(Name) Could never thank his boss enough for letting (daughters name) stay in the office, the elderly woman finding the toddlers company pleasant while she worked on scheduling and order's.

"(Name), could you cover booth three? I have to talk to (boss name) about the schedule" (name) looked to his co-worker who managed the hardest puppy eyes he could "fine, but you owe me"

"Thank you!"

(Name) Never knew what to expect at the small restaurant, typically it was the locals in the small town but sometimes some rich people came in and even foreigners which was a gamble on how the experience would go.

Usually they were nice though.

"Hello! Could I get you gentlemen started with water or perhaps the chef's choice of wine?" (Name) Said happily to the group who sized him up, the man in the middle just staring him down with cold blackened eyes but (name) just continued smiling and even making eye contact with them.

Blissfully unaware of who they were or what their tattoos meant.

"We will start with the finest wine you have" the white haired man with snake like eyes said simply, his rings shining under the warm lights "of course! I will be back momentarily with your wine, gentlemen" and with that (name) turned and left, bonten not missing Mikey's curious look and the lock on to the waiters ass. They all exchanged glances while their boss just ate his snacks, flipping to the dessert menu to see they had the good stuff.

(Name) Returned moments later and filled their glasses, Mikey freezing when the waiter got close to him and the white haired man could smell the others cologne faintly and nearly shoved his face into the poor man's neck if it wasn't for his self control "so tell us about yourself, Mr waiter ~" ran was going to do his boss a favor, knowing Mikey had the romantic abilities of a snail. "Ah, what would you like to know?" (Name) Was so easy going, care free "you in school?" "You single?" "You know how to bake?"

(Name) Was a bit startled by the questions but didn't see the harm "I'm not, I graduated last year, I am single and I do know how to bake, yes" (name) laughed a bit at the questions "now, what can I get you gentlemen?" Changing the topic to get to business and not have these attractive men ask every detail of his life.

Of course they ordered the nicest things on the menu, it was going to be a pricy bill no doubt but (name) wasted no time getting their order before his coworker took over his table for his break and hang out with his tot. (Name) Brought in dinner for the two, free food from the restaurant and (daughters name) got cute rice balls shaped like hearts and for dessert she got taiyaki shaped like stars and filled with custard.

"Wow you drew this?" (Name) Cheered on his kid who beamed, the owner who became their grandmother of sorts always splurged on the good coloring supplies for the little girl and finding some cute toys for the office so she's never bored.

"Why don't we show the team, yeah?" (Name) Asked the little one who bounced a little, clearly happy at the idea "let's go!" Holding his little girls hand, the restaurant was nearly dead save for the group of eight who were furious that (name) was changed out for another person but Mikeys anger quickly melted when he saw the tiny version of (name) waddle towards the elderly owner who was rolling cutlery.

"My!" She cooed and lifted the little girl up "you're so talented!"

Mikey and (name) locked eyes, the waiter offering a sweet smile and Mikey's face dusted red, (name) didn't miss the stares and the blushes on the pale man, knowing damn well the awkward blond thought he was attractive "you enjoy your meal?" (Name) Asked him casually, the blond composing himself "yeah..." His words simply and short, never the one for small talk "that your kid?"

"Ah, yeah... She's too young to be alone and my boss practically helped raise me as a teen so she just hangs here"

Mikey nodded and looked over (name) who caught his stare "would you like to go out sometime?" (Name) Thought the blond was cute, even if he barely spoke and just stared ominously.

Mikey froze, usually it was him doing that "you don't know who we are, do you?"

"...models...?" (Name) Said confused, unsure of his answer and Mikey just stared back at the man "what? Used to people not recognizing you?"

"Something like that"

"Well I hope to get to know you better, I have to get my rugrat in for her nap but I'll be back soon yeah"

Mikey never felt so complacent, nodding and even letting (name) kiss his cheek gently before going to get his daughter.

[mylonelylittlestar]

My little star

Characters: Xavier Summary: random relationship headcanons with Xavier Warnings: None A/N: I've completely fallen in love with Love and Deepspace, especially with Xavier. It's truly hopeless

the type of boyfriend to get you matching pyjamas

he gets you so many that they slowly start to replace all of your own

likes to match with you even if you don't live together, so sometimes he just texts you to ask which pyjamas you're wearing so he can change into the matching one after he showered

if you ever gift him slippers, blankets, or pillows, he will keep them forever (even if it's something goofy like those big fluffy bunny slippers)

the best person to ask for good midnight snacks. He can recommend fantastic instant noodles, chips, crackers, or other snacks that are light and won't give you stomach aches late at night or negatively impact your sleep in any other way

very interested in your skincare routine (if you have one) and will try out any mask or cream that you give him

if you come up with a routine for him (a simple one, maybe, like the basic cleanser > toner > moisturizer), he will follow it diligently, dragging himself out of bed before he sleeps every day to do it because you were the one to pick those products for him and he doesn't want to waste that

he feels like it connects you to him, even if your routine is completely different and a bit more complicated

never cries during movies, no matter how sad they might be, but he does (on very rare occasions) get a bit teary-eyed

he will hold you if you cry during a movie, and he would never even think about making fun of you for it

he does secretly think that it's cute that you get so worked up about a movie

can sleep through anything. a bomb could go off in his house and he wouldn't know that it happened until he woke up

has seen every single episode of any shitty sitcom you can think of at least three times because he occasionally watches them while he sleeps

sometimes he quotes them but because he knows each of these shows so well now he always quotes the lesser known scenes and no one gets what he's talking about

you start to understand his references after a while, so sometimes he will quote some obscure scene from a super unpopular sitcom that got cancelled after one season and you're the only one laughing

secretly sneaks to the arcade sometimes to practice the claw machine game because he wants to get you the plushies you don't have yet (and to impress you)

he ends up getting dozens of repeats of plushies that you already own. he collects in a small storage room in his apartment that used to be empty

he ends up giving them away when the collection gets out of control, donating them to a children's hospital nearby

gets all shy when you find out about it, blushing bright red like a tomato (or a wasabi octopus)

knows about every single 24 hour store in the city because of his odd sleeping habits and always knows what to do no matter what time it is

you can't sleep and want to go on a date at 3:27 am? he knows a place

if someone is mean to you he will try his hardest to deescalate the situation, but he's also fully willing to fight the person if that doesn't work

I mean have you read his Anecdotes 2? He doesn't give a fuck. He'd prefer not to fight, sure, but if it's unavoidable? What is he gonna do? Not fight and defend you? Ridiculous.

The fandom has already started turning him into this soft uwu stereotype, but the thing is that that's... just not him? He's sweet and kind, yes, but that's not all he is. He's complicated! He has layers!

if he ever falls asleep during a date he would feel awful about it for days, even if you reassure him that it's fine and that you're glad that he feels safe enough around you to fall asleep

he tries to make it up to you with a different date and he falls asleep again, which starts a vicious, endless cycle

when he finally does get over his guilt it's only because you fall asleep during a date after you had a long day at work

knows when you cheat in kitty cards, but sometimes he just lets you get away with it, especially if he knows you had a stressful day at work. He hopes that the win will cheer you up

his good night kisses are forehead kisses while his good morning kisses are on top of your head if you didn't sleep over or on the cheek if you did

[honestlyijustfindhersocharming]

Incoming tangent about why Dead Boy Detectives is so important to me.

I found Dead Boy Detectives late, and I found the DBDA fandom even later. I'm not one to watch shows, especially not new ones. Even more so, I'm not one to watch supernatural horror, or any horror for that matter. Movies and shows seem like such a big time commitment to just sit there and do 'nothing' during, but Dead Boy Detectives intrigued me.

Once I started watching the show, I fell in love. Between the representation of POC actors throughout the cast, the sense of humor, and the mysteries I felt like I'd found a show that I could get invested in for the first time in a while. As the show progressed, I found myself invested in this story of loneliness, self-acceptance, and friendship.

Internalized homophobia is something that is very personal to me. I've struggled with it throughout my life, especially given the fact that I'm queer and non-binary. Watching Edwin go through a moment of "Wow, I can like boys" because of Niko's support (a friend, not a love interest) was so healing to me. Normally it feels like queer acceptance is a result of love in media, not a result of platonic support, so having that journey be a result of Niko was honestly amazing. Throughout the show, Niko's support is invaluable to Edwin's self-discovery, something that I can relate to as my friends were the ones who truly supported me through my queer journey, not potential partners.

Dead Boy Detectives' emphasis on platonic friendships is riddled throughout the show though. Niko and Edwin's Scooby Doo movie night was an example of how friendship can inspire people. Crystal's want for her mom to accept her brought Niko to a place where she felt like she could try to write to her mom again. Edwin and Niko's time together brings them to a place of deeper connection, meanwhile, the romantic pairing of Charles and Crystal spend time kissing instead of thinking about or discussing their problems.

And then the confession scene. This was the scene that got me into Dead Boy Detectives, and it's the scene that's been my lifeblood since. Of course, the confession itself is wonderfully written and the actors are so talented, but what hit me the hardest was how when Edwin says I love you the first time, Charles says it back without any questions. That simple "I love you too" was enough to make me consider this show one of my favorites of all time. Yes, Charles and Edwin are ultimately the core 'love story' of the show, in my opinion (They're positioned like Orpheus and Eurydice constantly and it drives me up the wall with my Hadestown hyper fixation added to it). But the importance of their friendship trumps everything else, and the emphasis on that platonic connection is so important to me.

This has been a giant ramble, and likely incoherent, but the tldr; is that I love Dead Boy Detectives with all my heart. It's such an important show for so many reasons and I will not shut up about it until Netflix decides to renew this damn thing.

[xiuminsmygrandpa]

I know the general fandom consensus on Edwin saying “that’s entirely too much emotion for one day” is very British of him. But that line hits different when you’ve had to compartmentalize trauma to get to be where you are today. Edwin is seen as cold and collected to everyone because he had to be to escape from Hell not once but twice.

The last two years have been especially difficult for me but what kept me going was being so busy I literally didn’t have time to process what was happening. When a traumatic event occurred I’d just say “well I really need to finish this assignment then I’ll deal with it.” And before I knew it I’d finally graduated from grad school.

Now that I’m in a place where I have the time and space to process what happened to me I don’t know how. Because enough time has passed that I can think back on it as a thing of the past. I think the same is true for Edwin. Even if he were in a safe space where he could talk about how awful Hell was, he’s compartmentalized his trauma for so long he’d have the hardest time coming to terms with how he feels about it.

When life, and in Edwin’s case death, is deeply traumatizing it’s easy to shut down and not feel any emotion. Because if you don’t feel things they can’t hurt you. But by doing that you can never truly heal.

While I know I still have a ways to go I’m learning slowly to open myself back up to the emotions I’ve bottled up for years. At first it was incredibly scary and made me feel vulnerable in ways I hadn’t since I was a child. But it’s also allowed me to let go and move forward with my life.

I know there will likely never be a season two but if there was one I would love to see Edwin finally unpack over 100 years of trauma and finally start to feel human again.

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Zombie!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Zombie!Ghost, Reader

Summary: Being on the run from the undead doesn't leave much time for more intimate things, but once things start to settle a little an ache begins to form that you havent felt in a long time. What will you do when the only other person you are with is your former lover turned zombie.

Word Count: 4.8 k

Warnings:

Author's Note: here it is as requested. I hope I did it justice. Happy Halloween 🎃

You’d been on the run for months now, never stopping as hordes of the undead nipped away at any temporary calm would you seek to have. It wasn’t easy always having to look over your shoulder, wondering when you were going to get ambushed again or if you’d get overrun and you’d have to make your final stand in a blaze of glory. Something like that isn’t supposed to become normal, but after over a year of living in hell you kind of get used to it… Kind of.

That first month was the hardest since you had been completely on your own because in the chaos and confusion of that first wave as the everything fell apart, including the 141 you were stationed with, you’d gotten separated from everyone. Hiding in the sewers, scavenging for food like some kind of rat, it was torture. But then you came across someone you thought you’d never see again: Ghost.

He was holed up alone in an abandoned farmhouse back in the thick of the woods a town over from the base. What should have been a reunion with someone you knew was thrown off by the fact that he had in fact been turned into one of the undead. Out of everyone that you could have run into, why him? You two had history, the kind where intimate details were something that you shared, and now you were both thrust together once again only this time there were bigger things at stake other than if you’d get caught fooling around by the captain.

The strange thing was that even though Ghost had been fully transformed by the infection, it was not what you expected. You realized quickly that Ghost had kept most of his humanity, though the more finer details of his person were scrambled by the disease. Even though he could not speak anymore due to the fact that his jaw was broken, Ghost was still inside there. And the strangest part of it all was that he remembered you.

It wasn’t like anything you had seen from the horde of mindless undead and so instead of facing the unknown alone again, you decided to stick with him. For over a year you two stayed side by side and although you did not come across any others of the task force, it was enough to just have one another.

Honestly he wasn’t a terrible companion, though a bit of conversation would have been nice. Still, having him with you had its perks. Being one amongst the walking corpses had great benefits and Ghost used them to their full capability to keep you safe so that after a time, even though the world still sat in ruin, you two were not doing too bad. At least you were able to stay in place for more than a day now.

That’s where you found yourself, shacked up in a two story cottage you had found almost untouched and secluded in the middle of the woods. It was easy enough to make secure, as secure as you could having limited supplies, but apart from a few stray corpses stumbling by there wasn’t much action. That anxiety riddled tension that you had held in your chest for over a year began to ease and with that came old stirrings that you hadn’t felt since before the world collapsed.

An old familiar ache brought on by being near someone who you used to share such things with, the one that leaves you begging to be quenched, wormed its way back into your life and now that you had more time on your hands it was becoming a major problem.

You see, adrenalin has a funny way of fucking with your head: heightening your senses, making your pulse race, everything feels so much more intense. You were only human, one who still had needs which had not been met in so fucking long that you couldn’t even remember what it felt like to be touched by another and so having your blood always rushing and your skin tingling, how could you stop yourself from giving in to that most basic of temptations?

It was a shame that Ghost wasn’t an option now; you would liked to have him one more time as the world burned, but there was no way no… right?

So, instead, one evening after the perimeter had been secured and the doors re-bolted, the windows rechecked and the traps restrung, that ache reached its peak and you had to do something before it got in the way of staying safe. Sneaking off to the bedroom you had claimed for yourself upstairs, you allowed that overwhelming need to finally overtake you.

Leaving the door slightly ajar so that you could still be alert to any stray sounds, you laid down on the cushioned surface of the mattress, your pulse racing rapidly in your chest at the prospect of doing this. You made quick work of your jeans, unbuttoning them and pulling down the zipper only enough so that you could access that throbbing between your thighs. Clamping your mouth shut in an effort to keep quiet you slid your hand down the front of your pants, down all the way until you reached your sex. 

A whimper filled your mouth that you choked back down; the last thing you needed was to alert a horde with your desperate cries as you worked yourself. It may have been a while, but you knew exactly what to do and extending your middle finger you split yourself open to find your clit, another whimper rising in your throat as you made the connection and began to draw tight circles around the bundle of nerves.

It was hard not to get worked up so fast as that remembered pleasure filled your mind and snaked its way through your limbs to make your body vibrate and as you stroked that pulsing bean you were brought back to those times when you and Ghost used to get lost in that ecstasy together. You couldn’t be blamed for where your mind wandered, not when you had to be near the one person who knew how to draw your pleasure from you, even if he couldn’t do it anymore.   

Before you knew it, you had flipped yourself onto your stomach and then onto knees to ride your fingers, hips grinding away as you imagined him underneath you. Fuck, the way he used to look staring back up at you with those hungry copper eyes, hands greedily clinging around the meat of your hips as he shoved you down harder onto his cock before he would inevitably flip you onto your back to pound into you; it was enough to make you salivate with need, but still you tried to keep quiet.

You thought yourself sneaky, keeping things to a minimum as you desperately drew out your release, but Ghost was not the same man he was when he was alive. His senses were different now, enhanced like a wild animal’s by the infection that took his life and made him into something entirely new. As he stood in the living room, staring blankly out the window to watch for any signs of undead, something caught his attention.

The scent of pheromones were on the air, enticing him forward to the upstairs. He followed it all the way to the back bedroom, your room. Slowly, silently, creeping towards the door, Ghost peered unblinking through the slit to watch you up on your knees on top of your bed, your pants hanging slack around your hips while your ass point upward towards the door. That motion, he knew it; that back and forth sway of your hips over top of your bed. 

There was another fragrance on the air now, something more familiar. Taking a deep breath, his heightened sense of smell caught the scent of your natural lubrication currently soaking your fingers and it awoke something deep within him like a fire in chest akin to what an animal feels when it goes into heat. His slack mouth began to unconsciously salivate as ingrained memories surfaced, flashes of remembered sensations from times when he too enjoyed such pleasures. Inherent, primal, a reaction as innate as breathing.  

It was then that he became acutely aware of a tightness growing down below and instinctually he cupped his hand around it, rubbing the growing bulge against his chilly palm. Was he actually getting hard? That was surprising as anyone would have expected that to not happen anymore; he had retained much of his humanity, but he had not had the time until now to explore all the facets of what that entailed.

The more he rubbed the more it grew until the front of his pants tented out near the zipper, straining so hard against the fabric that he had to wonder if he could pop the closure without even trying. God, it felt…amazing.

“Fuck, Simon,” he caught the whispered hiss through the silence as you pressed your body down harder onto the bed, onto your fingers, and it sent a shiver up his spine. The way you said that name he hadn’t heard in so long, in that desperate way almost as a plea to your lust to fulfill its unspoken promise and wash that euphoric feeling over you, caused memories to violently resurface. He had heard that before in just that exact way- from you.

Scattered and disjointed memories of you beneath him burst into his minds eye, brought back to life by the sound of your voice: you writhing with eyes closed, your skin glistening with perspiration in the pale light of a dimly lit room, bare breasts bouncing up and down with each of his strong thrusts, crying his name into the silence as you came.

If breathing was something he was still required to do those lungs would be heaving by now to bring in enough air as he was so worked up that he would surely be panting. His hand gripped tighter now around the head of his cock, stroking with more purpose now as his dilated pupils followed the curve of your back all the down to your ass to watch it bob up and down.

The pace of his hand quickened to match your rocking as if fucking you by proxy, stroking through his clothes while transfixed on you. Goddamn he wished he could remember the way you felt wrapped around him, but that sensation had been lost when he succumbed to the disease. All he could do was watch and enjoy the way your body looked while your movements became more sloppy as the warmth gathered in the pit of your stomach, that delicious heat that you had not felt in so long.

“Yes, yes,” you mewled under your breath while your thighs clenched around your hand as you were so close. You brought in another finger to join the first one and with both you slipped them inside your entrance; it was nothing like the way Ghost could fill you out, but it would have to do.

Bearing down hard while you kept the pace steady, your breathing more erratic, you finally reached the peak and spilled violently over the edge, tumbling down as your body writhed and jerked through the overwhelming intensity of that first orgasm. You stifled your cries as much as you could inside your mouth, but they still reached an unknown listener who nearly came himself if he had not had to move quick before being spotted.

…and that left him very frustrated…   

You fell onto the mattress, removing your fingers from your pussy as you breathed out a sigh of contented relief. It hadn’t been clear just how much you needed that until you came and fuck did you feel on cloud nine now. As you rolled over onto your stomach to stare up at the ceiling while you rode out the wave of your euphoric high, you swore you heard a series of strange movement just outside your door; a soft few taps that sounded like they were getting farther away which would have been out of place, but the house you were currently boarded up in was old and so you convinced yourself it was nothing.

Besides, if anything was truly wrong, Ghost would have already alerted you by now. 

It was several minutes you just laid there in the silence before you took one last deep breath to calm yourself as you got up to straighten your clothing and re-buttoned your pants, hoping that your self-pleasuring session had gone completely unnoticed to your companion as you headed back down stairs to double check that everything was still secure.

In his usual spot you found him standing, always watching with that unblinking gaze, but as you stepped into the living room his sight was immediately drawn to you. “Hey,” you greeted him, “everything still okay out there?”

The usual grunted reply was returned and you stepped over to where he stood, just to take a look for yourself. It didn’t hurt to have another set of eyes to catch things and you felt more comfortable checking for yourself anyway. Scanning the area outside you saw nothing out of place, but as you pulled back from the window you were met with those cold eyes directly staring at you.

Silently Ghost’s large hand came up to touch your cheek, rubbing his thumb across a certain flush pooling there that drew his curiosity and he grunted with a nod of his head at it. You diverted your gaze, suddenly self-conscious about how warm they were still, like a fucking beacon calling attention to what it was you were doing upstairs; not that you cared, but shit you didn’t need your business plastered all over your face like that.

“It’s nothing,” you reassured him with a chuckle. “Just got a bit warm I guess. I promise I’m not infected or anything like that.”

Fully expecting him to take you at your word you went to move over to the sofa, but his hand clung to the side of your face to keep you in your place. You tilted your head as he shook his own side to side slowly. 

“What? Don’t believe me?” you picked, slightly concerned about this strange development; he had not acted in such a way before and you did not know if it was a part of the infection or not. 

Again he shook his head before his eyeline lowered down your body until his sight stopped at the crotch of your pants. Shit, had he heard you? Could he smell the trace amounts cum still clinging to your cunt? There was no real way to tell, but the way his eyeline kept drifting down before meeting your own again was enough to indicate that he was aware of what you had just done. 

You cleared your throat. “You know what I was doing, don’t you?” you asked and was met with another nod, this time to the affirmative.

Well, nothing to do about it now; what was the point of denying it? “Look, I just… needed something to take the edge off okay?” you spurted out. “I mean fuck, I still have needs, even if they had to be put on the back burner for a bit while we tried not to get overrun. You of all people should know how I get sometimes. At least I was quiet enough not to cause problems for us.”

Ghost looked back at you with those milky white eyes, but there was something behind them, something that you recognized, something… yearning. Suddenly you were aware that his other hand was on your hip now, tracing sloppy circles around the soft warm skin just under the hem of your shirt. 

Goddamn the familiarity of his fingers lingering over old paths they used to take in times almost forgotten; if you closed your eyes, it was like you were right there back with him. Your chest was tight with the increased thumping of your heartbeat in your throat, the air not filling up your lungs as well now as he pulled you in a little closer to him until your bodies were against one another. 

That was when you felt something against your thigh.

“Can you…?” you risked asking the question. No, there was no way that he could still get hard, right? Right? 

A large, cold hand wrapped around your wrist and brought it down to his crotch where he rested your palm against it and to your surprise the bulge in his pants responded to your touch. Your eyes shot back up to his as your breathing hitched. 

“Fuck,” you murmured and was promptly met with a grunt from him followed by a deep chuckle. 

Perhaps it was the history, the knowledge of what his body used to give you; perhaps it was the need that you had not truly quenched fully yet; perhaps it was your memories that you’d used as you touched yourself; or maybe it was as simple as you still wanted him; whatever the reason it didn’t matter. All you knew was that you couldn’t stop yourself from wanting more of what you started upstairs.  

Hesitantly your fingers grasped at his shirt, slowly tugging at the seam as if to silently ask to be allowed to remove it. Never letting his gaze waiver, Ghost raised his arms and allowed you to pull it up and off over his head. His body was just as you remembered, though quite a bit more pale and the flesh discolored in places, but all the lines and bumps, scars and imperfections were the same and as you ran those delicate fingertips over his skin it all came flooding back.

This is crazy, you told yourself. But it was the end of the world after all, why not go out with a bang?

“It’s been a while,” you said, gaze taking him all in. “God, you always did make my heart race just taking off your shirt, ya know.”

“Uhh,” he grunted in agreement. 

The contrast in body temperature between you both was stark and he enjoyed the warm, tingling feeling your finger left behind wherever they went. He had not felt such a phenomenon in so long that it was like lightening striking inside his mind as nerve endings reignited. It went the same with his pants as you undid them to let them hang loosely around his hips.

Following your lead, he helped you out of your shirt as well so that you stood bare chests facing one another. Your nipples were already hardening as they hit the cool air and he ran a fingertip over the tiny rosebuds to feel them. You were perfection, a sight of decadent flesh that fueled that hungry need he had to abruptly cut off before and the more he stared the more it grew.

The couch sat just behind you and taking your hand in his he moved the few steps over it to take a seat. Grabbing onto your hips and turning you around, he pulled you down onto his lap to sit on top of him. That throbbing bulge barely covered by the pants slipping off him was straining even harder now and you had to open your legs so that it could comfortably stand at attention in between them.

Situated on him you leaned your warm, bare back against his chest, those muscles that you knew by touch alone were now clammy, yet still familiarly fit against you just as they always had. Ghost took those stiff, cold fingers and ran them slowly down the line of your neck to your chest, around the tissue of your breast and down still to the curve of your hip. 

Being touched that way by another, by him, after so fucking long made your skin tingle and you leaned your head back against his shoulder to close your eyes and simply enjoyed the icy prickles his fingers created. He brought those fingers back up all the winding way to your throat and then back down again, except he did not stop at your hip this time. 

Lower he walked those decaying digits into your lap, then inside the waistband of your jeans, and then all the way down until he was inside your panties. You didn’t try to stop him, instead letting your knees fall open to give him more access. The further he went the more he could feel just how warm you were, the damp heat radiating off your cunt and into his pulse-less palm as he cupped his hand around your sex.

“Christ,” you exclaimed in shock as your body jolted against him, your pussy still a good bit sensitive from before. 

“Uhhh,” he groaned in response, intrigued by how much he enjoyed causing such a visceral reaction and wanting to replicate it. 

Again your scent filled his nostrils, those delicious pheromones that he had caught a whiff of earlier, and it began to awaken something primal within him. Taking his fingers, he drug them heavily over the slit of your cunt until they slipped between your petals and into that still dripping core. Again your body jolted into him as those thick fingers rubbed the length until he found what he had unconsciously been searching for: a small bundle towards the top. 

“Ugh,” that deep groan was more breathless this time, as if he were enjoying the feeling of your juices coating his fingers.  

Cool fingers began stroking against your clit with a rhythm that was ingrained in him from past experience and it was like falling right back into old habits. Your hips started to roll over his hand as they were want to do in response to his movements so that it was like a dance of give and take and he had to wrap an arm around your waist to keep you from slipping, but it was worth it to feel the way your body moved.

Like an animal a strange compulsion awakened inside, enhanced by the disease coursing through his veins, and the untamed part of his new nature was flooded with the need to rut into you. The more music you made, the more it filled his chest until the sensation became too much to quell. 

With a growl he moved you both to the floor in a rush, ripping your jeans off of you in one strong tug before pushing you forward and pulling your hips up so that you had to get on your knees. He too knelt behind you as he shoved the fabric of his clothing down enough to release his engorged cock and taking both of your hips into his preternatural grasp, so firm that his fingertips made the muscle sting, he aligned the head with your slit. 

This was crazy, highly dangerous, and slightly insane, but you couldn’t stop, not with how your body felt being pleasured for the first time in well over a year by someone who knew it. Whatever the consequences you’d deal with them later, right now you just needed to be filled to the brim with everything he had. 

Instinct knew what to do and slipping through your petals a few times, he rested the head against your opening and with a strong thrust shoved himself inside as far as he could go. Goddamn you had forgotten the actual feeling of how big he was, but there must be something in being undead that made him even more engorged because his girth almost more than the walls of your pussy could handle. Fuck, you were so full of him that when he finally pulled out of you it would feel so goddamn empty it would physically hurt.

You were aware that his cool palm was on your back now, running up the length of your spine to just between your shoulders where Ghost stopped to shove your top half down further into the ground so that your ass would rise more and without more of pause he began to thrust in and out of you furiously. Each stroke stretched you out more until the sting subsided and that was left was the satisfying euphoria that comes with being filled so full.

“Simon,” you moaned out his name and a dormant part of his brain lit up. Hearing it for the first time upstairs was nice, but being inside of you as you breathed life into that moniker was the highest level of ecstasy he had experienced yet.

And he need more. “UH,” he growled with force as he slammed into you from behind to make your ass bounce off of his hips. 

You braced your hands under your head to steady yourself, but it did little; the man inside of you was gone and all you could do was hang on. Still, even with his roughness, the way his cock still reached those desperate nerve endings inside of you made the arch of your back even more pronounced. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” you choked out the exclamation as your voice vibrated from the impacts. 

Harder and faster Ghost pounded your pussy from behind, throwing caution to the wind as he grunted and groaned like a beast on the hunt about to capture a fresh kill. You were so fucking warm, so gorgeously wet, that even his dead skin felt reanimated so that each brush of your body against him had him reeling in pleasure. 

This was the closest he would get to feeling like a living thing again.

Stopping suddenly he ripped his cock out of you amidst your begging protests to flip you onto your back, brutishly pulling your ass onto his knees. Your thighs rested high around his torso, squeezing against him as he immediately thrust back into that warm, wet hole and expeditiously returned to that overwhelming rhythm. 

The room was filled with the wet, sticky music of your bodies slapping against each other as Ghost worked your hole for all it was worth with a reckless abandon that you had not seen in him before. This wasn’t love, not something tender, but only pure animalistic lust and the more he stroked in and out of you the more he needed.

And then he felt it; a warmth in his stomach like he had swallowed coals. It started faint, almost indistinguishable until it had nearly filled him full the more he kept going. 

He couldn’t stop, he couldn’t back down, he was so close he could taste it. You weren’t far off either, nearly at the peak of your second orgasm the harder his cock stroked in and out of you, stimulating your clit along with it just from the pressure of his thrusts. 

“Shit, don’t stop,” you pleaded pathetically to him, your toes curling into the air as you focused on your breathing. Right there, it was right there; all he had to do was keep going.   

A few more pumps of him deep in your core and that was it, like a hot flash of white light you cried out in shaky whimpers as your orgasm tore through with such force you shot up as your back arched and your hips bucked harshly into him. “Goddammit Simon, fuck.”

He wasn’t far behind as the warmth that had been building finally shot through his body, coursing like a burning river of fire through his veins as he ripped his cock out of you and through your thighs to cover your stomach in his milky white semen. The roar he released while he drained his cock dry over top of you rang out through the house like a wild animal’s cry until he hung limply over top of you, completely spent.

Everything lay still once again as you caught your breath, allowing your ecstasy to run its course before you even tried to move out from against him. As you came to sit up, once again you were met with his eyes watching you closely. It felt like he was admiring his handiwork: the flush in your cheeks, the sweat speckling your torso, the exhaustion in your limbs. 

He had done that…and he liked it.

You flashed him a genuine smile. “Well, that was something wasn’t it?” you laughed and he chuckled deadoan along with you. 

Maybe the end of the world didn’t have to be so bad after all. At least, now you both knew that there were ways to have a little fun… and oh fuck, were you going to keep having little bits of fun.

[kindlythevoid]

It’s really beautiful how Tolkien takes the time to honor the dead. After Gandalf’s death, they take the time in Lothlorien to deal with their grief and sing their laments, but as there is no body, that’s all they can do.

But when Boromir dies, even when Aragorn has to make the decision to either pursue Frodo or Merry and Pippin, and both are rapidly growing farther from the three left, they take the time to honor their friend. They don’t leave immediately, even though efficiency would dictate otherwise. No, instead they take the time to decide how to “bury” him (quotations only because it’s not burying in the strictest sense of the word, but rather reverently dealing with Boromir’s body). And then they gather trophies of his last stand and arrange them in the boat with him, taking time to “[comb] his long dark hair and [array] it upon his shoulders.”

How many times have other adventurers dedicated valuable time to honor the bodies of fallen companions, specifically to this extent? More often than not, they have to leave them behind, or only take the time to fold their arms or close their eyes.

Occasionally, they’ll build a pyre or bury them or whatnot, but it’s always after the battle that they set aside a significant chunk of time, or they live up to the term of fantasy (which isn’t a bad thing!) and there is no time wasted in building a cairn or burial or what-have-you.

My point is that time is spent, time that could be used for more “productive” things, such as, I don’t know, pursuing Merry and Pippin whose lives are at stake. And it isn’t framed as a bad thing, because it isn’t! Each life is precious, even when only the body is left. And they take the, well, the time to acknowledge this, in a reasonable and conservative way. (And when I say conservative, I mean that they pick the burial most fitting for their running clock, balancing both their need for a grieving period as well as the haste that the hobbits will require.)

I can’t speak to the rest of the deaths in the books as I haven’t caught up and refreshed my memory, but I will touch on another death, this time in the movie, that shares the same theme.

Theodred.

While he certainly hasn’t been totally forgotten by the fandom, I believe it is fair to say that he gets less discussion. Which is fair, considering he gets almost no active dialogue that I can remember and he is unconscious for most, if not all, of his screen time (and book time) before dying shortly after.

And one could say it’s because he’s a prince, one could say it’s because he was the heir, etc., etc. But it honestly makes no sense to dedicate all that time to preparing and putting on a large funeral when Saruman is right at Rohan’s door and there are so many bigger and more impactful decisions to be making now that Theoden has his mind back.

But, again, it isn’t criticized in the movie. It isn’t treated as the wrong decision. The people, included Theoden, needed time to mourn and Theodred deserved to be honored, even in death, even as the great forces of orcs and Uruk-hai were marching across Rohan.

Time is valuable, time is precious, and it should be wasted, especially when you’re trying your hardest to make sure you and yours survive. But time is meaningless if you don’t use it to live and subsequently honor those who have lived.

[demonicbaby666]

Remember Me

One Shot | Criminal Minds Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Criminal Minds 

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, brief smut

Words: 2.9k+ 

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, cheating, fingering, oral sex, brief mention of blood, loss

Summary: JJ has lived her whole life pleasing everyone, even if it was at the cost of her own happiness. But one day, she stumbles upon an unexpected opportunity to stray away from her norm, have a conversation, a relationship away from everything and everyone she knows. Why wouldn't she take it?

A/n: I'm sorry in advance. That's all I can say, really.

JJ fits the mould. She always has and always will. 

When she was younger, she played well with other children, smiled as she let girls braid her hair, and wept when the boys tugged at them. She listened when her parents told her it was just how young boys showed interest and that she should be flattered. Though she didn’t quite understand, the little girl managed to take it on the chin and try her hardest to focus on the compliment of having her scalp ache. That was until one boy, who showed ‘interest’ in her regularly, had yanked her poorly done braid for the third time in ten minutes. The whole ordeal ended with JJ towering over him as he fell back onto his butt and cried ugly, bulging tears. 

She cried in the car the whole way back home when her mom came to pick her up from daycare, shouting at her for acting so brutish. ‘You think any of the boys will like you now?’ That’s what her mom had said, but JJ didn’t care; she had her friends who took care of her, made her laugh and would only ever get feisty when it was time to share a toy. 

“Even the girls will be scared to play with you.”

She never did anything like that again. 

When she was in high school, she was the ‘it’ girl. Her grades were stellar, alongside her love life, as she took on the duty of dating the soon-to-be prom king. She was the perfect girlfriend, never mind that there was always an excuse not to let him get her naked when they were alone. Usually, it was that she wasn’t ready; she didn’t tell him that behind closed doors, she got in enough practice with her best friend, but that’s all it was. Practice. It wasn’t that she got butterflies when soft lips kissed along her neck rather than the gruff of unbalmed lips or when manicured nails showed her how it felt to have her collarbones traced rather than calloused fingers fumbling with her bra strap. Practice. 

She married a bland man with a thick accent and a proclivity to make sarcastic comments, and together, they had two kids, forming the perfect nuclear family. How perfect, and entirely not macabrely mundane. She should have been happy and content. What she had was the dream, the societal one at least, that her younger self would have gushed at. ‘You’re so lucky,’ she could hear her little voice say, see the innocent smile on that unknowing face that was forced to gush at having her pigtails yanked and feel pride in her youthful stance. It made her stomach lurch. 

Then, one day, she’s sat on a park bench, crying. She can’t remember why, only feels the anguish crack in her chest and force another stream of tears down her swollen cheeks. Vaguely, she registers she’s not alone, hears the dull creek of aged wood and tries to simmer her sobs to sniffles. When that doesn’t work, the blonde is forced to turn her stiff neck and face the embarrassment of being caught crying in public head-on. Maybe tell this stranger to pick another bench, to mind their business, anything that would get them away. Seriously, there were at least two free benches, and she couldn’t fathom why anyone would approach her in this state when there were very clearly other options. 

As the dismissing words touch her lips, they fade away, eyes batting to try and halt the swarm of tears in their tracks. Soft. JJ notices that you’re soft. All she’s known her life is rough, sharp, brittle edges, from the itchy feel of a beard scratching at her chin to the unpleasurable rutting of a man inside her, finishing in twenty seconds. But your hands are not callused when they lay upon the skin of her upper arm, and your smile is not unsure as you gaze into her azure eyes. JJ doesn’t understand why her stomach is flipping, but she suddenly feels okay. She doesn’t hate herself for it. Not like how she hates herself for everything she feels.

“Are you okay?” you ask, light and open, and she hears your voice's unmistakable melody of genuine care. 

The confessions are spilling out like water from a faucet, and before JJ is even aware, she’s run through her whole life and has mapped out every wrong decision that’s led her to a life of service. She realises things about herself she’d have never seen had it not been for your impartial presence and attentive nods. 

You do your best to weigh in, encourage personal discoveries and meet them with reassurances and words of affirmation. You watch as this gorgeous, kind and intelligent woman unravels right before your very eyes and see the moment everything clicks. You click. You’re an outsider to the normalcy she has to display daily, and you’re not witness to the constant acts she performs to appease her husband, colleagues, and even her children. You’re a taste of what it's like to be able to simply exist away from expectations and scrutiny. 

She places her hand over the one you have on her arm, brings it down to rest in her lap and traces lines over the creases of your palm. There’s something about how you look at her; it makes her feel young again. She doesn’t care about anything anymore, wants to follow her heart rather than her brain, and for the first time in a long time, she doesn’t feel guilty about it. 

That’s how it starts. Every week, JJ finds herself drawn to that bench, drawn to you. You talk, and she forgets; she forgets about everything except what it is to be herself without bounds. It truly is a beautiful sight. She’s utterly, undeniably and inextricably beautiful. 

You smile so brightly, from cheek to cheek, as you watch her laugh, watch life come back to her with each little confession she gives away. Like when she was younger, she vaguely remembers making her Barbies kiss, or in high school, her boyfriend's only redeeming quality was his long hair that he'd let her maintain or that only a few weeks ago she had to clear her search history after deep diving into, well that one she never finishes, but from the crimson hue that appears over JJ’s cheeks you’re able to put two and two together. The story of a new colleague joining the team rattles you the most. 

JJ speaks of how she often found herself transfixed, admiring her mannerisms, her wardrobe, and how her brown eyes shone in a particular light. She tells you how sometimes, even now, when she catches the brunette's eye, her heart still leaps a little, but it’s emptier and accompanied by the bitter taste of regret. There’s a sadness when the blonde lets that confession slip, like a piece of her breaks every time she talks of it, reliving the same moments over and over, and you manage to push aside your jealousy in favour of offering her a reassuring smile and comforting embrace. 

Weeks turned to months, and soon, JJ found herself staring at you in much the same way she had her junior high best friend. She knows the feeling but resents the accompanying guilt that only worsens with joining your lips together and later looking her husband in the eye. Her whole life, she’s done the right thing, followed the rules, did as she was told, and ever since meeting you, she’s realised all it had amounted to was endless longing. In a fucked way, she thinks of you as her saviour, a chance to see that her deeper desires should have always been fuel enough to turn a blind eye to so-called duty. 

Of course, you’ve come years too late when she’s forged bonds that, in her eyes, will always be unbreakable. It helps to think that way; it hurts less when she takes your hand and leads you into a hotel suite booked under a pseudonym. You smile nonetheless the whole walk through the corridor, ignoring how there’s an odd smell in the air, how the carpet is sticky and stained, and how, between clasped hands, you feel the presence and prick of JJ’s wedding ring. 

She needs this, and you want to be everything she needs, everything she feels, and everything she wants you to be. 

And you are. And you are more. 

You show her what it is to be devoured, to kiss slowly and languidly, to have sex without it feeling like a race, to be filled roughly and want it, crave it. She makes sweet sounds as you trail your lips down her body, seal them over her clit and lap at the tender bundle of nerves, never once looking away from who’s granting her this immense pleasure. By the time she’s cumming for the second time, she’s no longer chanting your name but words of gratitude, two single tears rolling down each cheek as she allows herself to feel the aftershocks of her orgasm before the euphoria dwindles. 

It doesn't take long for the blonde to recover, and when she does, she’s leaning over you, an eager look in her eyes shadowed by a hint of uncertainty. She’d never done this before, never been with a woman. Sure, she’d thought about it, seen it, but it had always felt impossible. Yet here you lie beneath her, smiling, waiting, and looking so fucking perfect she knows if she doesn’t get to touch you, she’ll never forgive herself. That thought alone has her hand working its way between your legs, delving between folds to coat her fingers in your arousal before she pushes two inside you. 

Again, she doesn’t look away. She can’t. 

She watches the veins in your neck strain as you throw your head back, watches your stomach roll with every thrust of her fingers, watches as your lips part and your jaw shakes and can’t stop herself from kissing you when she hears you moan. She can’t pinpoint the exact moment it happened, but she knows, she just knows. Knows that when she curls her fingers, you’ll whimper; when her thumb brushes over your clit you’ll gasp; and when she sucks a mark to your breast, you’ll cum. 

She whispers more confessions into the night after, and you feel a little like an intruder until she nestles against your side and presses soft kisses to your shoulder before she lays her head down on it and runs her fingers through your hair. She can’t stay; you both know it, but don’t say it. Instead, you dress each other between tender touches.

It’s the same hotel the next time and the time after that, every time. You’re used to the stale smell in the corridor and have even contributed to the array of stains. It was after you and JJ had indulged a little too much at a local bar and discovered, in the right company, that the blonde was rather handsy with wine sloshing around in her brain. That night, you both sobered up rather quickly; rushed touches turned slow, harsh kisses turned light and for the first time in both your lives, you made love. 

She insists on paying for dinner when you go out, and you temporarily forget that she has a family waiting for her at home; take in the new way she’s curled her hair and done her makeup. Her smile stretches so wide it’s a painful reminder that no one’s paid enough attention to her to mention these things, and you vow that for however long you get with her, you’ll be the one to notice these things, make her realise she deserved to have the little things pointed out and praised. 

Once the bill’s paid, JJ suggests a stroll, and you agree because it’s not outside the norm to walk to the hotel, paper trail and all. But as the blonde takes the lead, gently guiding you forward, you realise you’re walking to another familiar staple in your and JJ’s story. She’s first to sit down on the park bench, and you don’t hesitate to join, tucking your body into her side to ward away the slight chill of the evening breeze. 

“Cold?” JJ asks, a little confused, what with it being July. Still, she wraps an arm around you and pulls you perfectly closer, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead. 

“A little.” you smile. “Nothing to worry about, though.”

It’s quiet for a while, and both of you are content to exist beneath the glowing stars together. That’s until you hear a text alert from JJ’s phone that could only be from one person. You’re not angry as you pull away from JJ’s warmth, allowing her to reply to her husband in peace, though you can’t deny that a sudden hollowness fills your chest.

“Do you forget about me too?” JJ whips her head up and shoots you a look of confusion. “When you’re with him, do you forget about me?” 

She places her phone down, and there’s a small victory in discovering you come first, at this moment at least. Soft hands land over your cheeks, and JJ pulls you into a slow kiss filled with so much devotion it leaves you dizzy. You pour just as much into the kiss as you’re being given until you’re both too desperate for breath that you’re forced to pull away. You don’t stray far, meeting JJ in the middle as you lean your foreheads together and feel each other's breaths steady.

“How could I forget you when you're all I think about?” JJ whispers, pecking your lips before she continues, “I miss you. When you’re not beside me, I miss you.” 

It’s what you needed to hear - reassuring enough to put your thoughts aside and allow JJ to kiss you again, to guide you to the place you ended most nights together, and to undress you. This time, JJ asks for no pleasure on her own and demands only yours. She doesn’t let you touch her, not until she’s had you cum over her fingers thrice already, has her head between your legs and her tongue inside you. Only then does she guide your hand to her hair, feeling bad for the crumpled bedsheets she’s sure you’ll rip anytime soon, allowing you to push her further into your sex. She laps hungrily like she’s starving for air, and you’re the promise of full lungs until you’re blissfully fucked out and spent, pushing her away and begging for breath. 

When JJ crawls back up the bed, the pride clear as your slick on her face, she pulls you half on top of her and holds you tighter than she ever has before. 

“Please, don’t forget about me,” you mutter over her heart, squeezing your eyes shut.

On the walk home, you grind your SIM card into the tarmac pavement till it’s unrecognisable. You walk past the park, past yours and JJ’s bench and let yourself cry ugly tears before smashing your phone against the ground and allowing the glass to cut your hands. 

It’s easier to do knowing you won’t face the consequences for long. You know she’ll find someone who’ll love her just as much as you do, and the thought fucking stings more than the physical pain you’re in.

You think to yourself that JJ was probably too caught up in what she wanted you to be for her that she never really and truly saw you. She never saw the paling of your skin, noticed how it became easier to mark you or looked away from your kind eyes to the bags beneath them. But in a weird way, you’re okay with it, because you got to be what JJ needed you to be. And maybe that was your purpose. Perhaps that’s why you didn't go straight home months ago after you’d received the test results from the hospital; instead, you walked to a nearby park. Maybe all along, your last months weren’t meant to be yours to live; instead, they belonged to someone else, and lord knows, JJ got more use out of them than you ever could. 

It’s a nice thought to drift off to, even if the monitor next to you beeps a little too loud, a little too slow, you tell yourself you were something to someone. You were, you are someone she won’t ever forget. 

—

She’s crying again, in the same park, on the same bench, except you’re not there this time. Her hands are bare of jewellery, and she wants to be happy about it, but you’re not here. Her eyes search the barren benches, and she's repeatedly calling out your name till her throat is raw and blistered. JJ doesn’t know whether she’s cursing you or calling to you; she only knows that this is freeing, that each time your name leaves her lips, it feels like reopening a flesh wound. She keeps going till her lips are chapped, till she cold starts to raise goosebumps over her arms, until the setting sun glints off something in the corner of her eye. She looks to her side, catches a metal plaque on the head of the bench she’s never seen before and traces her fingers over the familiar letters until everything starts to make more and less sense. 

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