#it’s honestly just domestic and boring as fuck nothing special

[thwackk]

part of a longass old man halbarry comic i never finished

[esorxy]

daily updates of thoughts while reading crimson rivers

afterthoughts::

this was so beautifully written and well plotted, it had some of the best scenes and dialogues, and had me swooning, in shock, all of that

(particularly regulus') character development!!! insane!!! this has left me unsatiable, jegulus has me in a chokehold

oh the romance was so sweet, and ever so rewarding after all of the hurt, both jegulus and wolfstar

my only complaint is that its way too long like i lost so much sleep over this, at the end i was so impatient i kept skipping all the side characters povs cos i just wanted to be done with it

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day 1. 10% (games just started)

it took 80k words to get to the start of the games .... what did i get myself into. and i saw tiktoks going like the jegulus WEDDING ?!?!?!?!?! love it when sirius cannot form coherent sentences around remus, but he needs some distraction they literally have the worse luck ever. I'm so glad they dont have horrible communication issues, maybe because theyre all about to die.

oh and if the jegulus parting 'present' wasnt the saddest way to separate especially since they think theyre going to die

aside, i keep comparing sirius to quackity in that hunger games fic and then i remember how much better the dsmp fanfics were especially since i can actually recall the details after like 2 years. back when i thought 100k+ was a long fic oh how naive

so so far, pretty good, im invested in the story enough to not be bored but not THAT invested

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day 2. 31% (games ended, just before interview)

im fuckin invested. why whyyyy so much pain. regulus never fails to be the most hurt in any room aye. and james being touch starved?!? i lived for that shit.

why was it that reading about the games was so thrilling. the life/death oml give my boys a fucking break. they're out now and still no comfort, the only break theyre getting is a break up wtf!!

asides about the games, james was just a dumbass about peter, evan my beloved as always (and glad that the author shares that sentiment), and what the fuck regulus just realising at the end that he had nothing to live for if james died asfhhdsjjfsgjjf

why the fuck was i not satisfied with reading cute one shots or 100k fics,,, the length of this, i don't want to sleep i don't want to eat god help me with this addiction

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day 3. 60% (second games started)

honestly the lack of a mcd tag is the only thing getting me through this. the hope!! i relate to regulus so much on that.

and that's also the only reason im forgiving them for all being fucking IDIOTS and not making the most of their time together. now is the time to profess your love and get your spine realigned my darlings

why is there literally a force field preventing james and regulus from being happy together??? well im not complaining too much because that means that anything they do now is extra special. regulus not being able to resist james??? gahhh im gone.

also them having tea together and actually starting to heal oh theyre so sweet they dont deserve that cruel world.

they literally chose the worst time ever to make up, at least they did at some point, but man they really confessed and got engaged right before... probable death...

oh the amount of pain my poor boys are going through, i wish they can all escape and live in some cozy domestic paradise with everyone they love. but they have to suffer first otherwise the happiness in the end doesn't count for anything.

oh. my. god. CRYING regulus trying to get sirius to kill him and then going soft at the last moment, and i can't believe sirius almost got baited like that and was really about to kill him. but REGULUS, oh my, my sweet gentle boy, he tried so hard, and the aftermath left everyone in fucking pieces.

it is 2.30am, and it takes literally half an hour to make a 2% dent, and i am HOOKED

🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛⬛

day 4. 80% (healing at phoenix)

regulus is on his way to being my favourite and it's entirely cos he's so angsty and unhinged. following through with all of his threats??? fucking hilarious, and his desperate love confessions and having a meltdown every 2 seconds. hes a wreck GET HELP.

sirius, such a literal icon, i strive for his level of don't give a fuck. "what pasta"?!?! my god i love him. hes so gone on remus its sickening. when dumbles asked for his blood, sirius being possessive?!?! if i was remus i would have folded right then and there, literally sold, this man owns him

james high and being obsessed with regulus the angel?!!! im swooning, literal heart attack material. best scene so far.

i love regulus' character development, hes levelled up to be james' first man. goodbye sirius but tbh he has more than enough problems on his own. oh jegulus is so achingly sweet i will not shut up about it. this is the reward after reading through so much couples angst. they love each other so much IM CRYING, the way regulus looked after him after the rescue mission, in all the ways that James didn't after the first games, oh they're finally together and happy, i would die for them.

i am PISSED at how long this fic is. the amount of nothing that I've done these past few days to read this, after this im going to exclusively read one shots for a whole entire week.

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day 5. 100%

sirius dissociating on the roof and remus sitting with him, im sobbing

yeah im deadass sick of the comfort now, theyve had too much that its not special anymore. i just want it to end already.

jegulus finally getting their dream life and dancing by the fireplace,,,, aaaand theyre getting married ahhhhh, my boys,, theyve come so far, i have no words

james holding regulus in bed while they watch the rain to help with his aquaphobia?!!! if thats not the most angsty romantic beautiful scene ever, im in love

why is it so fucking funny that james gets high from getting railed with a dagger to his throat, like legit my man CANNOT even form thoughts anymore hes so far gone 🤐

happily married with 4 kids, its too perfect, domestic, im in shock

aaand guess what im finally finally finished. that took way too long, reading fanfiction should be a full time job.

im never reading anything over 200k in the near future, that was way too much emotional commitment.

[violetsystems]

Some of my neighbors are participating in performance art that seems to act like they know everything about my life down to the jobs I apply for and are under a background check for. Acting like they are the police which at this point I already know who the police are. It'd be dumb of me not to. Since some of those jobs are government related I kind of wonder who they think they are. If they really believe they're going to get away with that level of targeting and intimidation who knows? It is Chicago for the record and I'm sure everyone is bored about me writing about it over and over again. But honestly if you are that amateur about it then it just means you are nothing special to write about online. I don't have any plans for the holidays at all really. I spent one Christmas and thanksgiving in Japan. Two different occasions. I'm sure somebody will go do a background check on those. China and Korea too. Always alone. Wandering around with no plans exploring. Makes up for the fact that I'm basically held hostage in my own neighborhood by freaks. I'll be fine for the winter but I just think people should know that realistically what I'm going through isn't normal at all. And I'm fully aware how badly it has jumped the shark. I figured I'm supposed to understand this is what you go through when you mean something to somebody. I just don't really know what to do other than pay bills and ignore the haters. This block definitely isn't Hollywood and yet people act like they can be famous for clowning me every time I step out the door. The world is getting more dangerous though and if you keep acting like you can dump on someone so much because they aren't famous? You actually make them more famous than they could ever be just trying to be seen. I don't need to do anything to be famous anymore. Just proving people wrong is good enough. Without me to use every second of my life in public these people have no real purpose at all. Maybe they're trying to be film makers. Maybe they're trying to start a revolution. It'd be incredibly boring if I just disappeared and moved to Shanghai or something. Not like I'm not applying for jobs over there, here and everywhere. And having my neighbors following me around in an intimidating and bullying fashion dressed in shirts from the university I'm under a background check for since August seems incredibly illegal and fucked up. There's such a thing as oversight to a point and subtlety is not this particular group of terrorist's forte. Diehard was a Christmas movie. So maybe this is just my own personal Nakatomi Plaza. But if you asked me point blank what I thought was going on with my life? I'd tell you I'm under duress with no clue. So no need to write about it too deeply like I have in the past. I figure somebody is going to get caught conspiring eventually. And if they don't then it's the same shit for me really. Nobody cares who these people are unless you fuck with my good name. So without me a lot of people are nothing. Less stressed out than usual about it for the time being. But I have no idea what's going on other than people practicing how to get away with domestic terrorism. If anyone thought that was a problem they would have handled it by now. So I'll handle it my own way by kiting it all into a brick wall one day at a time. At least then somebody can actually say I did something good for the world. Don't let it ever be said there's no consequences for bad behavior. It is just that sometimes you have to take the good with the bad to prove you are worth more.

[chocotonez]

skz + christmas movies

a/n: this was such a fun n creative request!! hopefully this is what you wanted, if not feel free to ask for a rewrite :>

warnings/genre: christmas but nothing religious, cursing, hallmark movies, fluff

chan

-will die on the hill that Die Hard is a Christmas movie, but doesn’t mind watching the Nightmare before Christmas or smth like that

-honestly it’s hard enough to wrangle him into a regular movie night because of his schedule, but Christmas is even more difficult because of the holiday promos :,)

-but bcuz of this!! u both try to make ur christmas movie night really special!!

-the finest hot chocolate, warming blankets up in the dryer so you guys can get all cuddly, making sure there’s 0 interruptions so u guys can just snuggle on the couch and enjoy the movie :)

-keeps mistletoe in his pockets but gets too shy so you have to kiss him first!!

-he loves just taking at home and having these domestic moments w u <3

lee know

-“no why would we watch that all hallmark movies are the same” -> “THEY DISCOVERED THE MAGIC OF LOVE AND ROMANCE AND IT WAS SOHADJWJDJE” pipeline

-loves those really cheesy ones w the happy endings :) he’ll never admit it tho

-probably forgets to give u attention cuz he’s so immersed in the movie LMAO

-highly recommend Falling for Christmas, that’s not his favorite but I just really liked that movie LMAO

-honestly just pop on any movie that’s Hallmark and sappy, cuddle him, and have snacks at hand and he’ll be very satisfied

-the best part is hearing you laugh and seeing your smile tho, it makes him feel so cozy

changbin

-not really the type to sit down and have a whole night dedicated to Christmas movies, probably wants you to play it in the background while you guys are doing something or just hanging out

-so like maybe ur decorating the tree or just having fun teehee, and in the background there's a hallmark movie -he needs there to be a happy ending, or else he'll cry and he doesn't really wanna cry in front of you, and if you cry he'll cry and you both are gonna be crying- -so yeah!! hallmark movies!! (also i am so sorry abt the format changes omg) -if you want to just sit down and enjoy the movie whole-heartedly, he'll do his best but he'll probably get bored -someone who's very chatty during movies unless he's fully interested in it -and if he is, he'll just be so entranced he will go into a catatonic state hyunjin

-I don't think he likes Christmas movies tbh, but he'll indulge you because he <3 you -probably points out all the mistakes the movie made, light-heartedly teasing you about the cliches -"I feel like they get the same man to play Santa every time..." -i think the whole time he's watching you, your little expression, the quirks of your brow, etc... -probably draws you later on -Drinks your hot cocoa because you're too focused on the movie -"I feel like we just watched the same exact plot" "stfu its the christmas magic" -the whole appeal for him is seeing you smile han

-really fucking annoying (lovingly) (endearingly) -likes the animated movies more, something nostalgic and sweet -Nightmare Before Christmas kinda guy -blanket hog and then complains ur ruining the holiday spirit -"don't fight during the holidays!!" -the type to fall asleep and be like "huh no I'm awake I've been paying attention" -needs to always be talking tbh, he needs to observe every scene but he'll shut up if u tell him too because he's such a good bf -has to have first pick on the movie -probably clowns you and say you look like one of the bad CGI characters felix

-fumckin loves christmas movies -he's probably the one to convince you to sit down and watch w him, or maybe he turns it on while you two are decorating a gingerbread house -likes the more fantastical ones, with magic reindeer n stuff like that -giggles excitedly once the movie starts and is just like "teehee look at all that holiday cheer"

-its so wholesome idk he just luvs the warm feeling, honestly he just turns on christmas movies because he loves a domestic holiday w u -if he's ever unable to visit or sit down, you two facetime and screen share christmas movies :> -oh yeah and he makes that face when he's really getting into the movie - :> seungmin

-very neutral on christmas movies tbh -if you like them he'll watch them and maybe enjoy it, but he won't go out of his way to watch them -not the type to get fully immersed in movies, you tease him for being a grinch and hes just like >:T -"what does a man need to do to get a little respect around here" "idk have some holiday cheer" -likes the comedic ones that just take place during Christmas, finds them more entertaining -he likes the ambience n aura of Christmas, but he usually can't stand the plots of standard christmas movies -like hyunjin, he's more interested in you and the hot cocoa he's got jeongin

-Christmas movies to him are background noise for christmas activities, likes to turn them on if friends and family are over because it immediately adds to the coziness of the holiday season -probably keeps mistletoe in his pockets if there's a romance scene, and then is like "omg that could be us look at this mistletoe that came out of nowhere teehee" -probably uses plot devices as an excuse to act out cheesy cliches with you -"let's share a scarf!!" "we both have our own-" "ITS LIKE THE MOVIE." -not the type of guy who watches christmas movies for the plot, he just likes the mood

[ahtsumu]

LOVE PERSEVERING, EP 1. “The Plot Twist”

pairing: nanami kento x f!reader

synopsis: the nanami’s have an evening full of surprises – the most surprising of all, however, is the one that comes without explanation.

tag(s): loose (very loose) wandavision!au, humor, domestic fluff, suggestive content, profanity, can be read as a standalone! ; wc: 2.6k

love persevering m.list

“SORRY I’M LATE.”

Nanami Kento closes the front door behind him and changes out of his oxfords for house slippers. The traffic was crazy, there’d been an accident on the 101, a Maserati collided with a Ferrari and the two drivers were hashing it out in the middle of – no, that’s a horrible story and even worse lie. He doesn’t even drive to work. He takes the Caltrain to his job in San Francisco every morning and takes it home to Sunnyvale every evening.

Shit, Nanami thinks as he tries to hide the evidence of his… offense. Can he cover it up with something? Maybe if he held his briefcase in front of it… No, that’s so obvious. It’s so… red. And big. There’s no way it’d stay concealed.

It’s not that Nanami is in any way dumb or easily frazzled. No, he’s quite intelligent and levelheaded and the fact that he works as an Associate at Goldman Sachs should be proof enough. It’s just that he strongly dislikes the thought of lying to you. Technically, he doesn’t even have to make up a story to explain his tardiness. You probably don’t really care that he’s – Nanami checks his watch while setting his briefcase down – an hour late home. But having a story would quell your suspicions about the true reason he’s late.

See, today his co-worker Archie was talking on and on about how he surprised his wife with a bouquet of fifty roses the other night and, well, Nanami felt inspired. He’s not typically one for large romantic gestures, so he thought that maybe he should step up his game and at least remind you of how much he loves you the one day he’s given a sign to.

“First, you gotta lower her expectations, y’know?” Archie says like he’s giving a pitch. “Make her think the conversation is gonna be far from romantic. Say something totally boring. ‘Hey, honey, I had a great day at work today.’ Somethin’ like that, y’know? Then you just whip it right out. Bam.”

Nanami looks at the pink peonies in his hand with a small smile. Happy marriage, the flower shop attendee had said. Hearing your footsteps leading out from the second-floor bedroom, he quickly places the red bouquet behind the living room sofa before rushing back to his original place by the door. At first sight of your figure descending the stairs, Nanami starts (perhaps too exaggeratedly) loosening his tie.

“Ken.”

Oh. Oh, this doesn’t sound too good. Pausing his movements, Nanami assesses the damage. Your arms are crossed over your chest and your head is slightly cocked to the side, and you’re shooting him an expectant look. To be frank, you look a little pissed. You’re not even smiling. This definitely isn’t too great.

“Honey,” he starts, flashing you a conciliatory smile.

“Did you know that we were supposed to leave for our reservation an hour ago?” you interrupt.

Reservation? It doesn’t ring a bell.

Oh, is that why… fuck.

Taking your husband’s silence as evidence that he’d forgotten, you let out a sigh and walk up to his frozen frame, stopping when you’re right under his nose. “Did you?”

Nanami looks up at the ceiling as he tries to recall anything about reservations, but his mind turns blank. Actually, he thinks as he furrows his brows, he can’t even remember what he did yesterday.

“No,” he admits truthfully, looking into your eyes. “Sweetheart, I’m really sorry but I don’t remember at all. Listen, I –”

And then, you laugh.

“I was just messin’ with you, babe.” Still giggling, you pull him in for a hug. “The reservation’s not today.”

Nanami blinks as his arms wrap around you. There’s no reservation. “You’re ridiculous,” he chuckles. “I genuinely thought that I’d done something wrong.”

“No, definitely not. You’re wonderful.” Lifting your heels off the floor, you capture Nanami’s lips in a short kiss. He eagerly responds, pulling you closer into his firm body. This is, without a doubt, Nanami’s favorite part about coming home. You. Always there, at the end of the day, with your sunny little grin and sweet, adoring eyes. A little piece of paradise.

“You are so much trouble,” he murmurs as you pull apart. You hum at that, unable to disagree.

“We do, however, have a reservation at eight tomorrow.”

He frowns. “I genuinely don’t remember making plans for that, darling, I’m sorry.” Nanami glances down at your face and notices your surprised expression.

“Me neither. I was hoping you’d be able to tell me something about that.”

Well, that’s odd. It’s not often that either of you forgets anything, let alone something as easily remembered as a dinner reservation. It’s utterly peculiar that you would both happen to forget about the same thing. Today’s turning out a lot stranger than he’d ever expected. “How’d you find out?”

You pull your phone out of your back pocket and show him the email confirmation.

Dear Mr and Mrs. Nanami,

Thank you for making a reservation with us at Gary Danko. As a reminder, your reservation is for two people at 8:00 PM this Friday.

If you have any questions concerning your reservation, please feel free to contact us. We look forward to serving you!

Thank you,

The Gary Danko Team

“This is… strange,” Nanami notes, studying the little screen.

“Very,” you agree.

“Should we cancel?”

“Should we?”

“I –”  Nanami’s stomach grumbles, putting a pause on your conversation.

With a chuckle, you slide your phone back into your pocket. “Never mind. We can talk about it during dinner,” you say, helping your husband out of his suit jacket. As the blazer comes off, you affectionately rub a few circles on his back, feeling his posture relax under your touch. Honestly, he works too hard. You always tell him this but he really should take a few days off and drive down to the beach – maybe with you, if he’d like – and forget about the world for a while. God knows he could use the rest.

Nanami hums in approval. “You go on first.” He kisses your forehead before gesturing at the briefcase on the floor. “I should put this away.”

The moment you disappear into the dining room, Nanami moves his briefcase onto the coffee table and brings the bouquet of pink peonies out from their place behind the sofa, this time holding them behind his back. A reservation neither of us remembers, he suddenly thinks as he strolls quietly towards the dining room. Truly odd. Tucking the thought away in his mind (there’s always time to figure out mysteries like these), Nanami calls out, “Actually, honey, there’s a reason why I came home late today.”

“I was just about to ask. What was it?” You’re almost done setting the table when Nanami walks through the archway with a bouquet of flowers almost as broad as his shoulders.

“Holy shit.”

He laughs, filling the room with its bell-like sound. “For the lady.”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you walk over and take the bouquet from his arms, cradling it like a baby. Each petal is fresh and alive and so vibrantly pink. It’s obvious that a lot of care went into this bouquet, and it only touches you further that your husband went to such lengths to guarantee you’d only get the best flowers possible. “Thank you, darling. What’s the special occasion?”

“No occasion,” Nanami says, shrugging. “Just that I love you. And I wanted to remind you that, even on days where nothing happens and it feels like we’re just going through the motions –” he takes your free hand and hunches over to kiss the ring on your fourth finger “– knowing I get to share every day with you gives me joy to look forward to.”

Happy marriage. It’s true and that’s all there is to say about it.

You’re unable to form words. Nanami Kento, the subtle, quiet lover, being loud with affection for once. An indescribable warmth spreads all throughout your body. “Ken…” Tears prick at your eyes as you set the bouquet down on the table and rush into his arms, peppering his face with kisses. “I love you,” you murmur in his ear. “I love you, I love you, I love you. I love you. Thank you.”

Nanami grins, cradling your face in his large palms. “I should do this more often,” he says, letting out a breathy chuckle when you nod instantly. “I’m sorry. I’ll work on – ” You cut him off with a slow but eager kiss, snaking your arms around his neck and tugging him closer to deepen it. If Nanami had been surprised by your interruption he doesn’t show it – his lips, soft and plump, move in complete synchronization with yours. He tastes like tea and honey and he smells like he always does, of wood and spice and the beach. It’s intoxicating and completely dangerous how irresistible he is and you can’t get enough of him.

The truth is, every real kiss with Nanami feels like the first. And you can never get enough. But you are running out of air, so you break the kiss first and rest your forehead against his, feeling his hot breath fan across your cheeks.

“You’re perfect,” you whisper, stroking his cheek with the pad of your thumb. “I wouldn’t want anyone else as my husband.”

Nanami quirks one corner of his mouth up and covers your hand with his, turning his head to kiss its palm. “If I had another life to live after this one, I’d marry you in that one, too.”

A prolonged growl from Nanami’s stomach interrupts your sweet moment.

“I think your stomach objects.”

“Maybe we should shove something down it, like dinner.”

Grinning, you slip out of your husband’s reach and beckon him to follow you into the kitchen.

“This salmon is delicious,” Nanami remarks, taking another bite off his fork.

“Thank you,” you beam. “I found a recipe while I was at work today and thought I’d try it out. Honey garlic salmon. My life is forever changed and so is yours, by extension. You’re welcome.”

Nanami chuckles, ready to respond with a dry comment about ‘having no choice,’ but then that odd email you’d shown him earlier resurfaces in his mind. “Speaking of changes. Should we cancel that Gary Danko reservation?”

You hum, thinking back to the letter as you chew. It seems like the most logical thing to do. After all, neither of you remembers making the reservation. The ambiguity surrounding its existence is unsettling enough to warrant cancellation, but something in you just wants to see what might happen. Swallowing your food, you say, “Don’t you think it’s strange that it has our names on it? I think we should consider going.”

“What if it’s a scam?”

“Then we go home, order Indian takeout, and watch a war documentary until we both fall asleep.”

Unconvinced, Nanami sits back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest, the navy fabric of his button-up tightening around his muscles. “We should call them first, figure out if they know anything.”

“You’re right,” you say, and then you pause before adding, “And if they don’t?”

You’re done speaking but Nanami knows that sentence isn’t finished, and that the other unspoken half is: can we still go? The truth is – and he’s told you many times – that your unpredictability is the most predictable thing about you. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, eyes darting across your face as he contemplates his answer.

It’s not that Nanami is an overprotective husband or needlessly suspicious of every odd thing in life. It’s that he somehow cannot remember a single second of his life before today, the same day this email arrived. To be more accurate, he feels like he has those memories inside him. Somewhere, deep in his brain, he vaguely remembers what things like a “fifth birthday” or “first wedding anniversary” look like. They just feel out-of-reach. Regardless, he’s absolutely certain that things aren’t exactly right. But you look so excited and utterly unaware of his predicament, so it must be something only he’s experiencing and he doesn’t want to burden you with this problem.

“If you really want to go, then we’ll go,” Nanami concludes, taking a sip of his wine. “After all, the wife…”

“… is always right,” you finish for him. “Well, sometimes the husband is, too, but in this specific context, for unspecified reasons, the wife is most definitely correct.” The grin on your face almost puts his worries to rest.

(Almost.)

You call Gary Danko after dinner and they confirm your reservation.

“Sorry if this sounds, um, weird, but would you mind reminding me when we made this reservation?” you ask, walking in circles around the kitchen.

“Not at all!” Some typing noises travel through the receiver before the man you were talking to says, “Actually, you didn’t make the reservation.”

You make eye contact with Nanami who’s lightly rinsing the plates from dinner. “Pardon?”

“No, it was a Miss Amanda Priestly who called us and reserved the table for you two days ago on October 31st. Does that name sound familiar?”

Nanami raises his brows. That’s your boss.

“Um, yeah. I know her, thank you,” you say, frowning. What on earth is your boss doing reserving tables at Michelin-rated restaurants for you and your husband?

“She left a message, too, in case you were, quote, ‘confused,’ unquote. She says, ‘Mimsy, thank you for your help on the Modish Winter look book. Dinner is on me. Kisses, AP.’”

And suddenly, everything falls into place. All those late nights you spent analyzing old trends and predicting the next season’s rush into your memory. For a month, you pretty much lived in your office down the hall from your editor-in-chief. You barely even had time to sleep. It makes sense that Amanda would show her thanks for the effort you put into the project, but you hadn’t expected her to. After all, she’s Amanda Priestly. She still calls you Mimsy instead of your real name.

“Oh, of course!” you laugh, looking over at Nanami. He sends you a curious look before putting the rinsed plates into the dishwasher. “Thank you for your help.”

“My pleasure.”

The call ends and you tuck your phone in your pocket as you say, “Mystery solved.”

“Hmm,” Nanami says, drying his hands on a kitchen towel. “The Modish Winter Look Book. For some reason, I don’t remember you working on that.” In fact, he doesn’t remember you working at a magazine company at all, although he can’t put his finger on what job he used to think you had. What is going on?

“Really?” you ask, reaching for his hand and lacing your fingers together. “You don’t remember that time I ran into our office with four different tweed blazers and asked which one looked the most wintery?”

Nanami furrows his brows as a memory comes back to him. It was a sunny morning in early November when you ran into the home office with two blazers draped over each arm and forced him to rank them based on how well they exuded “winter energy.” Truthfully, he had no idea what he was doing, just that the one with more blue seemed most appropriate for wintertime.

“I just remembered,” he says, a look of amused confusion coming over his features. Today has been so strange. “Did the blue blazer make it to the final look?”

“One moment,” you say, disappearing into the living room and returning with an advanced, rough copy of Modish’s Winter Fashion Edition. “It’s not out yet, but…” you trail off as you flip through the pages, pointing when you get to the one you were looking for “… here’s your contribution to the magazine.”

The blue blazer, in all its glory, smack dab in the middle of the section that says “TRENDS TO SAY GOODBYE TO.”

“Ouch.”

“Well, you predicted something,” you giggle, placing a hand on his chest. “Fashion might be your calling, Ken.”

He smiles wryly. “I’m hanging up.”

[todourouki]

congrats on 1k+!! can i request for sfw #14 (domestic life w/ them 🥺) with aizawa, todoroki, bakugou, and shinsou? thank you sm!! i love your works :>

AHHH! thank you so much for this, it means a lot! and ugh this is so cuteeee!

Want to celebrate prompt night with me? Click Here.

SFW PROMPT #14: What would living with them be like?

including aizawa, todoroki, bakugou, & shinsou

living with aizawa would be so nice

he’s not a high-maintenance guy

he’s more of a “as long as nothing looks like a piece of shit, we’re good”

matching sleeping bags

the man adores his sleep, i’m sure we all see that

so there’s soft blankets spread over every single couch/lounge-chair incase the two of you decide to nap

every day off, you guys have a tradition on waking up the latest time you possibly could, cooking breakfast together and eating it in bed with a show the two of you are currently binge watching on the tv

aizawa isn’t a bathroom hogger honestly he probably doesn’t even look in the mirror as much as he should

he’s pretty tidy when it comes to leaving his shit where it’s supposed to be

mostly because if he loses it, he knows he’ll be too lazy to look for it and he probably doesn’t have time

the furniture is all monochromatic

i don’t see him as a guy having brightly covered couches in his living room

everything is neutral, black, or white

minimalistic king

due to pure exhaustion all the time, color is out of the question, it reminds him of his students and he hates it but secretly loves it so all of his plates are multicolored

honestly living with aizawa sounds amazing

“Shouta,” you groan, eyes snapped harshly shut die to the light tracing into the room from the now open shades, “close the freaking things.”

Aizawa mumbles right after you, leg kicking the shade he once accidentally lifted with his foot back to where it once was. With the harsh tugs done by his feet, the light in the room finally fleeted away and allowed the comfortable dimness takeover once again.

The Pro-Hero’s arms gripped onto you tighter, nose nuzzled into your neck and bringing your body the kind of warmth necessary within the cold room. “S’go back to sleep, kitten.”

You mustered a smile, eyes still closed and hands running through the silky black hair resting underneath your neck. Mornings with Shouta were always the same— waking up once because of his leg obnoxiously releasing the shades, and both of you falling asleep once again in each other’s embrace.

You felt Aizawa begin to rub your back, fingers twinkling against your bare back soothing you beyond explanation. Within minutes, you felt yourself losing conscience, and you finally drifted back to sleep with the man you loved cradling you with unconscious admiration.

living with todoroki is exactly what you’d think it would be

i don’t mean to say it

but ima say it

this rich bitch has a ton of antique and expensive furniture lying around

mostly because he loves using his dad’s money

you and todoroki are a weird match

because you both love the exact same things

so all the furniture in your home

whether the living room be one color and bedroom be another

it all weirdly goes together because you’re both so good and coordinating shit

like your couch could be fucking orange

and the blue throw-pillows and decorations you cover your living room with just make sense

just like the two of you

living with todoroki means you figure out just how funny he actually is

also just how dense the boy could be

like he’s so sweet but also a little ✨dumb✨

he doesn’t know how to use the laundry machine and he never will don’t change my mind about this

todoroki loved cold soba we all know that

so there is a specific cabinet underneath the sink filled with all the ingredients for making it

that cabinet has to be restocked a lot

usually on days off, shouto would like to sleep in but he knows he just can’t

so if you like to sleep in, he already went out for a run, took a shower, and made you breakfast by the time you wake up

if you like to wake up early/with him, you find yourself either joining his workout or making him a hearty breakfast by the time he gets back

living with todoroki is really sweet bye i’m gonna go cry

“I just don’t understand why I’d have to press so many obnoxious buttons to get it to wash clothes,” he began, his stoic voice staring harshly at the machine infront of him as you stared at him in disbelief, “it isn’t my fault.”

“Shou, you froze the entire machine..” You repeated, a deadpanned expression on your face as you tried your hardest not to laugh.

You knew your boyfriend wasn’t the best at figuring things like this out, he hated to admit it but his family had done a lot for him back home. And sure, he wasn’t a little boy anymore and should probably know how to work a laundry machine, but he was convinced it acted up with him and him only.

“It was giving me a hard time, I didn’t even realize I froze it until I realized the clothes weren’t spinning anymore..” The frown on his face was one you couldn’t help but smile at, the grin taking over your face as you chortled a laugh.

With your empty hand, you gave the boy a kiss on the forehead, his calculating expression trying to decipher the reason certain clothes needed a certain temperature of water. Moments like this made you realize just why you loved Todoroki so much.

bakugou

is a handful

that’s clear to everyone

but living with him, oddly enough, is not

you both have a specific cleaning day

every single sunday morning

and that same night included the two of you watching a movie and having loud in-depth character analysis debate every single time

you both have special cooking days (he has more but it’s ok bc he won’t say it but he absolutely loves cooking for you)

bakugou has been through a lot, my baby

so consistency is something he depends on

he nearly breathes for it

routine is everything in your household, being something you grew accustomed to as well even if it’s not what you’re used to

every day you’d wait for him to get back home on the plush couch in the living room

so that way you’re the first thing he sees when he gets home, as well as a platter of his favorite food for the night and his fav tv show on the tv

he feels like he’s walking into heaven every single day

and depending on your schedules, you get the same thing when you get home if he beats you to it

a show/anime you’re trying to finish, the food you’ve begged him to make, and your loving boyfriend/husband lounged against the couch waiting for your arrival

you both wake up early— sorry, even if you don’t want to

bakugou doesn’t give a single fuck, he will wake you up and force you to either workout with him or start your day with him

on his days off though, you both sleep in until the afternoon

there’s literally no inbetween with your schedules

you’re both either up and ready to go by 8am or finally getting up to brush your teeth at 3pm

“How many times do I have to tell you— the real villain was not Sharpay, but Gabriella!” Your voice boomed, staring at your boyfriend who looked at you as if you had four heads.

“Babe, with all due respect, you’re a fucking idiot!” He retaliated just as aggressive and firm as you. “How can you say that when she’s such a bitch?!”

The credits of the movie you just watched played in the background, popcorn kernels pushing into the skin you had sprawled against your boyfriend. The pink reflected across your shirtless boyfriend, his ears beginning to redden due to the volume of his voice.

“Gabriella walked into that high school and literally stole everything Sharpay worked for,” you retorted, the straw you were drinking from entering your lips as you took a quick sip of the soda, “that’s being a bitch!”

He opened his mouth, signaling you to throw one of the Swedish Fish candies into his mouth and you did. With a laugh, you continued to throw food into one another’s mouth over and over throughout the argument.

“Maybe you resonate with Sharpay so much because you’re both bitches.” He snickered, dodging a pillow that fleeted your side of the couch and into his side by your right hand.

A gasp slipped your lips, narrowing your eyes at his tall figure and shoving a candy down your throat after his words, “maybe that’s why you love me, cause you’re a bitch too.”

living with shinsou >>>> breathing

shinsou is a gamer idc

there’s a playstation in both your room and your living room for game nights

yes

you guys had a game night

every single friday you guys would sit in nothing but (shinsou’s) t-shirt, and underwear and play nothing but video games all day

you usually end up falling asleep when the sun begins to come up, always taking saturday’s off no matter what for the occasion

you both are clean

being too lazy just like aizawa to have to find it if it’s misplaced

the bedroom look the best bc shinsou gets tired of monochromatic things and you hate living in a boring setting

so the two of you’s aesthetic shines through the room

if you cook, then please know food us up to you

if you can’t cook

money is spent 90% of the time on take out

because shinsou can’t cook for shit i don’t care

sometimes people wonder how it is you both manage to go to work and have a coherent sleeping schedule

and the reason is

aside from shinsou’s clinical insomnia )-:

that the two of you are absolute dumbasses

you spend all day doing homework if one of you is in college

or doing the work that needs to be done if you have just a job

and after that?

it’s just cuddling, gaming, struggling to cook, ordering take out, and eventual sleeping when you both realize you’re both past a point of ni return

most of the time though, you both manage to sleep

it’s more surprising for shinsou though bc he could never sleep properly if he’s alone

the two of you live together in GTA

also, I canon that Shinsou loves watching The Office so you guys binge watch the fuck out of that

living with shinsou is living with a bestfriend that is a civilized adult at certain times that you can cuddle and make out with

a girl can only dream <3

The sound of the console played through the room, your focused face watching the screen in front of you intently. The feeling of the bed moving along side every tap of the controller in your boyfriend’s hands trembled your limbs, your eyes being too locked on the screen to even maintain a balance.

“Go to the left, the left!” You pointed out, your legs sprawled across your boyfriend’s chest as he rested his body horizontally underneath yours.

“I know..” His voice was enough to show you he was focused, his eyes barely blinking as he followed your command and moved the character closer towards the left.

As gun shots erupted through the room, all you could see were flashes of red across the screen and players who had been attacked in Shinsou’s frenzy dead against the floor.

Exhilaration ran through your veins as finally killed the last person, the feeling of his body tending under you making you smile in happiness. You had both been trying to beat this level for weeks and you finally did it, exciting you to no limit.

The phrase “victory” strobed against the screen, making the two of you cheer in happiness at the time being well spent. He landed a big fat kiss on your cheek, pulling you in by the string in your hoodie and pressing you against him.

“Let’s beat some more ass in this next round, huh doll?”

“I’ll believe it when I see it, pretty boy.”

[honeyzen]

domesticated - k.d

genre: smut, petplay 

words: 4.4k 

warnings: kitten!play, dom doyoung, choking, unprotected sex (use protection!)

The sky outside darkened a midnight blue as you sat quietly on the couch, watching shapes and colours contort on the television. Your mouth widened in a yawn as shuffling footsteps wandered over from the kitchen, they gently pattered until your boyfriend Doyoung appeared from behind a wall. His eyes darted around the room as he set a bowl of popcorn on the table, fingers curling around a piece before he lumped down beside you. His tall frame slumped on the sofa, arm nearest to you stretching around, giving you the room the snake around his torso. Cosying into Doyoung you felt his fingers bury into your waist, his other hand reaching over and grabbing the remote. You felt the rumble of a pondering sigh, Doyoung beginning to flick through the channels as he always did. He was indecisive, easily bored and on nights like this, where neither had work the next day or a reason to protest, you knew how it would end.

Even the night you met he was like this.

In college, you had found it difficult to bond with anyone. Parties were too loud, being alone in your dorm was too quiet, balancing the two was near impossible. Especially when you hadn’t had much experience with people or being away from home in the first place. In the end, you relied heavily on your roommate to take you out and show you the way of the world. And she tried her hardest, it’s just that not much of it interested you though you did try your best.

After another night sat in the quietest room of a frat party, you began to feel despondent to the entire college experience altogether. You flicked through the books in the bedroom you’d barricaded yourself in, sighing when a porno magazine fell from between two classic novels. You bent over to pick it up, skirt riding high although it didn’t seem to matter alone in the room. As your fingers grabbed the corner as to avoid any residue that may linger between pages, you heard the oak door behind you open wide. A panic washed over you, heat rising to your cheeks as you half expected to spin around and find a drunken couple wanting to consummate. Instead, as you turned, while holding the magazine behind your back cautiously, you saw a sober looking man stood in the doorframe.

The blush hanging over your cheeks only intensified. His stature was large, shoulders broad in his blue, baggy jumper. Eyes big and brown, dark hair falling into his eyes as his slender fingers came up to brush it away. You stood speechless as his bottom lip became hooked beneath his teeth, his eyebrows furrowing for a moment before he stepped into the room. Your chest felt thick with embarrassment. You kept the magazine pressed tightly to your back, stepping back and the man stepped forward.

‘Sorry, I thought this room was free.’ You said quietly.

‘Uh, no, no, it’s fine honestly, I just um, usually keep my bedroom off limits while there’s parties. I like it, clean, don’t want people you know, in my bed.’ The man whispered, and despite the loud music, you could hear his every low toned word perfectly.

‘Understandable. I’m really sorry, I just kinda wanted to get out the way of everyone,’ you chuckled nervously, ‘I don’t really like parties that much.’

‘Like I said, it’s fine.’ The man smiled wide, exposing a gummy grin that only made you blush further. ‘I’m Doyoung by the way.’ He finished, reaching his hand out to shake yours.

Instinctively, you lurched forward. The magazine slipping out of your grip for just a moment, but long enough for it to drop to the ground. It splayed open on the carpet, thudding wide to the centre fold. Your chest tightened; stomach burned. You couldn’t bare to look back at what Doyoung was seeing.

‘I’m so sorry.’ You apologized quickly.

‘Where was that?’

‘Um, on the bookshelf, between Dracula and Wuthering Heights. It kinda just fell out, I, um, wanted to read.’ You laughed at how ridiculous you sounded.

‘Oh, right.’ Doyoung managed somehow to look more worried than you, his fingers scratching at his head. As his arm raised up, so did his jumper, revealing the soft toned torso beneath. You felt yourself tighten.

‘Look, I’m sorry, I should let you get to bed or,’ you mumbled as quickly as you could, wishing to vanish from the building altogether. You spun on your heels once again, bending down to pick up the magazine and return it to its owner. However, when you did, you actually saw what was sprawled across the pages.

A woman was sat on a red, leather sofa in a pristine lingerie, her privates covered though the sheerness left nothing to the imagination. Her arms were twisted behind her back, threaded together perfectly with thick, crimson rope. Her legs were wide open on the sofa, still covered in the same beautiful rope but this time only for aesthetic purposes. The expression on her face was that of pleasure, eyes closed, mouth wide kind of pleasure. Her makeup and hair was immaculate, untouched. It was a beautiful image, the kind that could have gotten away with being in an art gallery.

Confusion waved over you. The expectation of seeing unrealistic, graphic depictions of two women or a woman and a man had been dashed. There was only a soft, artistic image that left you with no words, only a deep yearning that maybe one day, you could be that woman. Clearly desired, clearly within someone’s control but beautiful and immaculate all the same.

Doyoung let out a withering sigh as you lifted the magazine and turned to face him. He stepped closer, fighting back the urge to rip the magazine from your grasp and throw it underneath his bed. Doyoung waited for you to wrinkle your face in disgust, to snicker at the image but nothing of the sort happened. Instead, you began to flick through the images. Turning your head to see all the sideward pages, tracing your fingers over the threads of rope that where consistent throughout the entire magazine. You pondered at it as though it were an art magazine, you seemed to appreciate it as one. Doyoung was gobsmacked.

After a few moments, you closed the magazine, handing it over to Doyoung. He gently took it from you, his fingers dancing over yours for a moment before the heat of his digits disappeared.

‘It’s beautiful.’ You said without thinking.

‘What?’

‘Um, it’s beautiful.’ You repeated.

‘Yeah, yeah, it is.’ Doyoung concurred nervously, staring at your features as they twisted in thought.

‘Do people actually do that? Or is it just for the pictures?’

‘You mean the, the rope?’ Doyoung asked politely as you merely nodding back shyly, your lip between your teeth.

‘I think I’d like to try it.’ You admitted, looking up at Doyoung to find his eyebrows scrunched in disbelief. ‘With you, please.’ You finished, not quite understanding what you’d asked for, but knowing in your gut that it felt right.

Nearly two years later and you were still trying out so many different, new things with Doyoung. When you met, you were both shy. Wrapped up in desires both of you thought no one but you had, but meeting each other, it gave you both the outlet you desperately needed. You often looked for things to try, often on nights like this when you both had time to kill. Whether it was between the pages of magazines or online, you found that both you and Doyoung had an endless stream of erotic things you wanted to try.

A ritual you’d created early into your relationship was looking at the trending page of a porn site, rooting around for something you hadn’t already done a thousand times and trying it. No pre-judgements, no reservations, just trying something to see the outcome. There were times when you or Doyoung decided the thing was not for you but often enough, both of you found that whatever you did, as long as it was with each other, it was perfect. This ritual however meant that things often got a little taboo which didn’t bother either of you but there was a certain stigma to some things and sometimes that did give you reservations. Out of an ingrained habit that was built into all people, when you saw something strange, it took a lot to try it. But with Doyoung, you never felt uncomfortable.

Doyoung sighed from beside you signally that he could find nothing to watch and so, the ritual begun.

You peered up at him, eyes big and doe. Doyoung waited for a moment before looking down and smiling warmly. ‘You wanna choose something tonight?’

Your mouth lifted to smile back at him, nodding happily, hands almost snatching the remote from your boyfriend. He chuckled. Usually you both picked, though really, you’d go along with whatever Doyoung wanted. Letting you choose without protesting was a special occasion and it made you light up like nothing else. You opened up the website on the television, still shy about looking at such lewd things in front of someone else on a large scale. The screen became sodden with erotic video links and dirty advertisements, all clearly made by men who knew nothing about women. You tutted to yourself, flicking down through the pages and pages until something towards the bottom left caught your eye.

‘Naughty kitten punished.’

With eyebrows knotted you turned to Doyoung. ‘Is this really a thing? Dressing up like a cat, I mean, I know I’ve done it for Halloween but for, fucking?’

‘Of course, it is. If you can think of it, there’s probably porn made of it.’ He retorted with a smirk wiped across his lips.

‘I don’t like that sentiment.’

‘So, that’s a no?’ Doyoung peered, careening his head to stare his umber orbs into yours. His grip around your side tightened a little, allowing you to feel the warmth emanating from beneath his black t-shirt. From habit, you closed your eyes, enjoying the small circles he drew into your hip.

‘Well?’

‘I, I mean, it’s weird, right? Dressing up like an animal?’ You said sceptically.

‘Obviously, but it’s not out of the league of what we’ve done before.’ Doyoung added.

‘I guess.’

‘It’s your call, princess.’

‘Uh, I mean, I have the costume… maybe it’d be nice to get some use out of it?’ You felt yourself defending your ideas, ideas that you knew deep down Doyoung would never judge. And yet, the shame of desire was so engrained in you, that you could not help it.

‘Let’s go get you dressed then.’ Doyoung smiled, standing from the couch, his stature above you like a skyscraper. You fought back the urge to reach out for his jean button right then and instead smiled to yourself with sparks alight in your mind.

‘Maybe I should go alone, if you come, we’ll never get back out the bedroom.’ You taunted standing up beside Doyoung. His smile lowered as yours grew ten-fold. You found your hands resting on Doyoung’s wide shoulders, pushing him back slightly until he sat back against the sofa. His legs widened, back slumping, as though inviting you to sit atop him, instead, you began walking to the bedroom, a chuckle leaving your mouth.

After sulking into the bedroom, you shared with your boyfriend, you began the hunt for the outfit you’d worn once and long forgotten. While it was true that Doyoung accompanying you would’ve lead to something before you’d be able to grasp the costume, you also needed to root through your messy wardrobe for it. Which was, undoubtably, a mood killer. Through grumbles and profanities, your hands dived through piles of clothes, each pile loosely organised by occasion. Dating Doyoung meant that the fancy dress pile was rather large and took some time to sift through. Until, almost at the bottom of the pile, two clip on ears poked out. As you grasped them, the soft fur tickled your palm, their deep brown nearly matching Doyoung’s eyes. Beneath the ears was a pink, leather collar that Doyoung had gifted you separate from the costume and to match, you pulled a set of pink, lacy lingerie from another messy pile.

You tugged down your sweatpants and removed the hoodie you’d stolen from Doyoung earlier in the day and pulled the pink lace over your head. The soft material felt like warm honey on your skin, and perfectly covered your body enough that you felt like the woman in that magazine. After slithering the undies up your bare legs, you grappled the ears once more. With fur between your fingers, you attached them high on your head, staring in the mirror at how sweet the clips looked. You smiled strangely excited for what you had been a little weirded out at first.

Staring down at your collar, a thought came to you, bringing warmth to your loin. You wandered over to a set of draws by the bed, heaved open the bottom section and pulled out a chain leash, the metal clasps jingling as you did so. Your smile grew as you flattened your hair and prepared yourself.

Timidly, you tiptoed back into the living room, head low as you approached where Doyoung still sat. With open palms, you knelt before your boyfriend, raising the items that sat atop your hands. After a few moments of silence, you peered up gently, looking over his face for any kind of emotion.

‘Look down.’ He muttered sullenly.

You followed his order immediately, keeping your palms up but eyes toward the hardwood floor. After another moment, the weight of the chain and collar disappeared and Doyoung’s feet came into your view and moved behind you. Though a cautious wave of anxiety rolled through your stomach, you still remained staring at the floor in silence. A sigh passed through your lips as cold fingers brushed your hair aside and cool leather pressed against your throat. Doyoung’s cold digits appeared again as he buckled up the collar and latched on the chain leash to hold you in place.

His hand remained low of the chain, gripping it so tight that it choked you slightly but still, you stared at the ground, motionless. A low snicker came from behind you, making your stomach swirl and tighten as moisture moved toward your heat. It was torture not to turn and look at him but following his orders was more important. You waited for what felt like forever until a palm mellowed over the top of your head, soothing over your hair, and following over the ears. Doyoung’s frame moved around you, allowing for you to see his lower legs once more and just knowing he was there, that he was the one touching you made it harder not to look up.

‘Look up at me baby.’ Doyoung finally said.

Your head snapped up immediately, big eyes staring desperately toward Doyoung and the grin smeared across his face. The confidence clearing instilled in him was terrifying and so, so arousing. You mewled, Doyoung raising his eyebrows as he smoothed over your head once more. From instinct you pushed your head up into his palm, nuzzling close to feel warmth from him.

‘My good kitten.’

A warmth filled your lower region, burning with every moment Doyoung touched you in any way. Until suddenly, a large heave bevelled through your body, the chain rattling as you were forced to push into Doyoung’s legs. Your hands leant atop his feet, wide eyes begging him to do something, anything. Doyoung merely grinned, tugging on the chain once more as he sat back on the couch and pulled you between his legs. Your features faced his crotch, mouth only a few inches from his covered length that tented his tight jeans. Just seeing you knelt before him, perky ears and collar and pink lace made him unimaginably hard and Doyoung struggled to compose himself. One more tug on your leash and your chin came to sit above his thigh. Doyoung released the chain, sitting it beside himself as he moved his fingers to his jeans.

You felt yourself smile, knowing what was to come. Pushing your face against his thigh, you purred, nose nuzzling into his clothed muscles. Doyoung let out a splintered moan, coaxing you to continue. As you did, you heard the undoing of a zip and rustling of thick material. The silence that settled in after is what made you look up, your eyes widening as you saw Doyoung holding his member tightly, slowly moving his hand up and down. He kept his darkened gaze locked upon you. Moving his other hand, Doyoung cupped your cheeks, soothing his thumb over the blush that painted your skin. His fingers moved slowly until he danced them to the back of your neck, his grip tightening and forcing your face forward. He pulled violently until you were face to face with his length.

‘Go on, kitten.’ Doyoung whispered.

He pushed his length toward you slightly, allowing your lips to engulf the tip and sink down the shaft. Doyoung let his head fall back against the sofa pillow and a low growl fall from his mouth. His noises only propelled you to continue, head bobbing up and down quickly as his member began to hit the back of your throat. It burnt, a kind of burning that travelled all the way down to your core, that was beginning to drip with desire. You lifted your hands and placed them atop Doyoung’s thighs for stability. Doyoung gripped your hair, twisting it into a makeshift ponytail and using it to control your pace. The tightness spread all over your body and ached in your loin. A need for Doyoung to be buried deep within you exploded.

The speed became relentless as you peered upward, staring at Doyoung’s scrunched up features; small, rhythmic groans pouring from his lips. You longed to kiss him, to nuzzle your fuzzy ears into the crook of his neck. You wished to be his pet forever.

‘Baby, stop, stop.’ Doyoung repeated frantically, pulling your mouth off his length by your hair. You understood why he stopped, for he wanted to be within you just as much as you wanted him inside you, but the loss of contact hurt, nonetheless. Spit dribbled from your lips, lining from Doyoung’s member to your mouth. He groaned low once more as you mewled, staring up at him with pleading eyes.

Watching from the ground, Doyoung pushed his hard member back in his jeans, sat up straight and patted his lap. You nearly leap up, pouncing onto Doyoung like the kitten you were pretending to be. With legs either side of him and arms slung over his shoulders, you waited. His expression twisted into a smirk, a devilish thought swirling around his mind.

‘Lie down on me, ass up.’ He muttered sternly. You watched his eyes for a further moment before Doyoung raised his eyebrows and nodded downward at his lap. You lifted yourself slightly and flipped over, placing your waist in Doyoung’s lap. Your face burrowed into the couch, feet kicking the edge of the seat and heat pressing directly onto Doyoung’s still stiff length. After a second, you felt as your boyfriend pulled your lace underwear down your thighs, cold fingers dragging over your skin. He lingered them back up to your ass, spreading his palm wide over the flesh. Doyoung kept it there for a moment, still and gentle, your stomach settling before suddenly, his touch disappeared and reappeared with a sharp, jolting sting.

A yelp came spurting out your lips, a chuckling emanating from Doyoung as again, his touch left and smacked back down. You mewled helplessly, another slap.

‘Count for me, okay kitten, five more.’ He said softly, swaying his hand over your red, hot skin before once more, lifting it and slapping it back down. A gasp escaped your throat.

‘One.’

Doyoung chuckled again, forcing down a particularly devilish spank.

‘Two.’

Your ass burnt painfully, the side that Doyoung had been slapping beginning to feel bruised and swollen. It was beautiful, and as another hit pummelled down upon you, a wave of pleasure rippled through you.

‘Three.’

Another.

‘Four.’

Doyoung soothed over your skin one more time as he lifted his hand and brought it down mercilessly. You yelped once more, feeling the other side burn just as the first. A small tear spat from your eye, trickling down your cheek and dripping onto the couch below.

‘Five.’ You croaked.

You lay down for a moment, air aggressively attacking your bruised ass as Doyoung removed his hand and placed into on the back of your thigh. He gently stroked the skin, giving you a few moments to catch your breath and recuperate.

Doyoung held onto your upper arm, pulling you up to kneel beside him. A finger coming up to swipe away a stray tear.

‘Do you wanna stop? We can?’ He enquired softly; eyes tender as his hand careened your jaw.

‘Fuck no.’ You said, leaping over once more to sit back in Doyoung’s lap, legs either side of his and lips reaching forward to kiss the man beneath you. With mouths collided, you wrangled your arms around Doyoung’s shoulders, his tongue darting between your lips and exploring your mouth. Instinctively, you began playing with the hair on the back of his neck, pulling slightly so Doyoung tilted his head back. You took advantage of the position, dragging your lips down to kiss and nibble at his slender neck. Doyoung groaned, his hands wandering to the underwear that still sat at your thighs, pulling them lower until they could no longer move. You felt the material dig into your flesh, stuck in their current position. While you wanted your bare heat to sit against Doyoung, you dreaded the idea of moving. He tugged again, helpless.

‘Rip them, rip them please, please.’ You begged, merely wanting to feel him beneath you, desperate for any pressure or friction against your heat.

‘Sure?’

‘Do it.’

Doyoung wrapped his fingers around one side of the fragile, lacy material and heaved it apart. The sound of ripping filled the room as Doyoung groaned, moving the material away as finally, he had access to your core. You felt the bulge in his jeans harden once more, pressed tight to the wetness that was pooling from within you. It burnt to be so close but separated by the already unzipped jeans. Doyoung held your hips, pushing you down to tease. A whimper fell from your lips.

‘Aw, is my kitten desperate? What does she want?’

‘You, please, I want you.’ You mumbled, unable to speak properly from sheer desperation.

‘Want me? To do what?’

‘I want you to fuck me! Please, fuck me!’ You almost screamed helplessly, Doyoung merely grinning, proud he had made you so desperate.

With his hands on your hips, Doyoung pushed you backwards further down his thighs. Giving him enough room to pull his jeans below his waist, allowing his hard member to spring gently from the material. It clung, pressed between his groin and your heat, that had, by now, created a wet patch on Doyoung’s trousers. You pushed upward, kneeling as you moved back up the thighs below you. Doyoung held your waist with one hand and with the other, moved his member to the entrance of your core. He was moving slow, but you wanted him, wanted him buried within you. And so, you pushed downward, feeling as you sunk onto Doyoung and he disappeared within you.

Doyoung let out a moan as you whimpered. The feeling of him inside you, putting pressure against you was intoxicating, so intoxicating that you could not move for a moment. As you began moving, slowly up and down Doyoung’s length, every inch of him burnt against every inch of you. The man below held desperately onto your hips, pulling you up and down to take complete control of the pace. The rhythmic tempo made a coil of pleasure begin to spin in your stomach, the grip upon you tight and almost painful. Another whimper fell from your lips as Doyoung let his head tilt back in pleasure. You shook, placing your hands upon his shoulders for stability, body nearly slumping against him.

His fingers began to trail up your body, tracing the pink, sheer lace that covered your breasts, swirling past and up your throat. His journey stopped, fingers halting and spreading up against your skin as he grappled the chain that attached to the collar. You let a loud moan explode into the atmosphere as you lifted yourself up and down Doyoung’s member, the pleasure in your loin beginning to burn. Low growls fell from Doyoung’s mouth, filling your ears like music as his grip upon you, both on your waist and collar, tightened. Air tightly passed through your windpipe, head spinning as you arched yourself quicker upon Doyoung. He growled loudly, his face scrunching up in pleasure as you felt him release inside of you, the warm liquid applying even more pressure inside your heat. The hot, wet feeling made you complete, and you felt yourself tighten and spasm on his member.

A last, prolonged mewl fell from your lips as you ceased your movements, still sat upon Doyoung’s member. His tempered sighs filled the room, grip on your collar loosening and hand falling back to your waist. You fell into Doyoung. Chests pressed together as sweat mixed like a cocktail of pleasure and sleepiness. Doyoung wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close, your cheek pressed flush against the crook of his neck. While holding you, Doyoung lifted slightly, giving him enough room to remove himself from your heat. A stifled moan fell from both of you, heat swelling around the room. You sighed, sleepy upon your equally tired boyfriend.

‘That was nice.’ You whimpered in a hushed tone.

‘It was, wasn’t it?’ Doyoung agreed, your head tilting upward to stare into his big, doe eyes. ‘C’mon kitten, let’s go and get you cleaned up and in bed.’ He soothed, fingers weaving through your hair as you purred once more against his chest. Nuzzling into him as your ears nudged his chin.

[ask-mortarion-the-death-lord]

some continuation i guess

this time with the emperor

we get the basic rundown, born to human parents, massively gifted, immortal, hidden among humanity and all that. It’s here where his motivation to shepherd humanities psychic awakening is really first brought up [something thats given overall more prominence in the book as well]. a much more interesting note however

now, this probably seems inconspicuous enough at first glance. Indeed even in modern canon 40k’s imperium is first actually created over ten millennia ago. However, take into consideration this little bit earlier in the lore section that i didn’t think to much off at the time

now, taking this into consideration, the implication here is that the age of strife, something that is typically thought to end right before the unification wars in modern 40k lore, is only considered to have ended after the emperor’s internment upon the golden throne, and that further the imperium seems to only officially be a thing upon the that internment. Now this suggests some things to me, two large ones possibly being

a) the unification wars and the great crusade were more so part of the same wider war, ie that the wars ‘only the emperor remembers’ were a large conflict between various warlords to determine who got the rightful rulership of the crumbling pre age of strife human civilization. or

b) the emperor started the age of strife in order to dominate humanity to control and shepherd the psychic awakening he saw humanity stumbling into.

take your pick i guess. food for thought and all that. also

in my earlier post i jumped the gun, the 1st edition emperor is still a punk who needs human souls to survive. Though in this case its not some vague need to bind his soul to the chair or anything, no, its just that he apparently cant eat or drink anything else and hes really god damn hungry and thirsty all the time. Which is hilarious and i almost feel is just a better explanation in general.

to be fair he does look like this 10 millenia later

makes sense he would need to eat unconventionally.

as well, as opposed to specifying 1000 psyker souls a day it just mentions a vague ‘hundreds dying every day’ which is still a lot but also likely less then modern emps eats everyday.

some explanation/emperor wank on why the emperor needs to be fed everyday. not much to say, just that i feel like the implications here atleast lean a bit more towards the emperor being pitiable in his own right as someone so dedicated to this vague future ideal of humanity that hes forsaken most of his own physically and mentally. 

apparently humanity underwent no genetic changes over 38,000 years that werent the direct result of mutation from environmental hazards.

@ lordsofmedrengard  early dark angels lore, here we can see where they got stuck with the moniker of “first legion” from in 30k modern lore, and its cause here in the first 40k book they’re noted as being ‘honored as the first marine chapter’. Guess it was something they felt needed to carry over... I like the copious more amounts of wine in the old dark angels chapter, and they seem a lot more aristocratic here then in modern 40k. Which makes an interesting contrast compared to the barbarian stocks of soldiers mentioned earlier in the book as being preferred for “legiones astartes”

we get some rundowns on the branches of the adeptus terra next, not much particularly new to note outside of them all being part of this larger governmental priesthood. some highlights though

the old school custodes uniforms are in fact the traditional uniform of the custodes in 1st edition. 

custodes wielded ‘lasers built to resemble the traditional and symbolic guardian spear’ whatever the fuck that means

tech priests and the adeptus mechanicus were monastic monks who primarily lived on earth and didn’t stick metal parts into and all over their bodies. they were consequently much more boring as the echlissiarchies IT department.

arbites basically doubled in the sisters of battle’s role as the militant branch of the state religion.

arbites fashion choices and the arbites acting in a similar manner of chaplains as well really.

the more voluntary nature of the astronomican in the first edition, the trainees learn how to safely let the battery drain them but it still seems to be a demanding job with a high fatality rate

they also share monastic tendencies and a uniform with the mechanicus, though theres is a fashionable blue.

included the entire bit on the administratum cause honestly, i find it incredibly fascinating. The parallels are certainly there between modern and 1st edition administratum, but i feel how its presented here just has more teeth and intrest to it. That is to say, its not just the ‘oh what fate, administration has become even more horrid, tedious and soul draining in this grim dark future, woe be us!’ that tends to get tossed around when mocking administration. Instead its a literal organization of religious monks dedicated to tax filings, school administration, rezoning and what have you. Blessed be the regulations and all that. Is there small cults dedicated to paper clip gods? what holy rites are involved when faxing documents compared to when faxing fourms? This is shit i want to know more about.

all adeptus terra adepts carry a knife and are likely legally allowed to shiv you here as well incidentally. 

the inquisitors are mostly the same, though with no mention of chaos whatsoever. less sub divisions from the looks of it too. this bit did catch my attention though.

psychic powers seemed to be a hell of a lot more common among inquisitors back then as well.

quirky inquisitors, who’d have thunk it. [its not that surprising, i just like that they took the time to mention it is all]

don’t know wtf is going on here though, especially as to whats going on with dudes armour on the left. looks like a knight crossed with an oven.

we get the usual spiel of psyker background, but then we get some interesting differences in opinions here on psykers compared to modern 40k imperium. How justified or not it is, is up to you but its definitely a shift in tone i would say.

possibly the proto servitor narrative wise? As said, 1st edition 40k readily uses robots, so servitors would be unnecessary. technomats on the other hand fall between that as menials who likely operate these things but dont full on replace them like servitors eventually will.

astropaths are basically the same, though the 90% statistic im not sure if it holds over to modern 40k. im thinkin likely but i could be wrong.

navigators outside of not ubiquitously having the third eye mutation also seem to have much more personal freedom and respect in imperial society in 1st edition. probably pretty comfy to be a navigator back then really. Aside from that, navigator families are still a thing.

space marine time!

well we get the same ‘feral world recruits as warrior god soldiers’ sortta stuff, it is mentioned and stressed that hive world criminals apparently make better stock in terms of raw aggression. Entire gangs will even be rounded up for the purpose of making new space marines.

the early process to create a space marine. no special organs, but bio-chem and the black [plastic?] carapace were there from the start, and hypno indoctrination is alluded to. Apparently this is still barely controlled chaos though. [and on a personal note, nothing that indicates it was male exclusive either, outside of general attitudes of the 1980′s]

early organization graph of a space marine chapter.

chapter markings and armour

AND THE POSSIBLITY OF SPACE MARINE BAGPIPES, WHERE ARE THEY GW WHERES MY SPACE MARINE BAGPIPERS!

iron hands apparently only had the one iron hand?

list of chapter symbols with names and colours, these keep appearing in the book. seems i was wrong on only the imperial fist symbol, its actually the crimson fists chapter symbol so thats 3 of the modern big 9 that didn’t exist back then.

we get a break down on the typical structure of a fortress monastery for space marines next, using the space wolves funnily enough who were far more normal as it were in 1st edition [and also their home world was lucan isntead]. and its got a lot, and well its all fairly interesting ill just shotgun blast some highlights

that the space wolves had an entire fuckin ship hanging in their great hall i find endlessly amusing, so thats why its there. the rest are interesting in terms of the domestic situation of space marines.

[softsillytwsted]

The Sleep of Blue Roses

I had this thought in my head of a what if story about an Ace betrayal and couldn’t stop myself from writing this until it was done. This is honestly not what I usually write because it’s kinda dark, but hey - it fits October doesn’t it?

Warnings: implied character death, implied domestic abuse, angst, the slow crawl of helplessness

Somewhere between now and back when you were still here, Deuce never understood limits. How can he? You were magicless, but you selflessly faced those impossibly stronger than you and succeeded. Deuce felt that nothing was out of reach when he was with you, with Ace, with Grim, Jack, Epel, Sebek...

When did things go wrong?

After weeks of strategizing a way to rescue Grim, who’s habit of eating everyone’s negative energy finally caused him to overblot, the gray monster was finally back to normal. Looking back, Deuce could only see how reckless and impossible the task was. They were up against a monster that had the combined magic and unique magic of the 7 strongest students from an academy of elites. The situation that promised death loomed over everyone, yet with you there, no one had any doubts they would fail. Not Riddle, not Leona, not Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, nor Malleus. And the impossible was made possible.

And you left this world thinking the impossible can be made possible.

“I arrived in Twisted Wonderland right after my mom contacted me,” you admitted shyly. “I haven’t talked to her since I was a kid because my dad always told me to stay away from her but... I really want to see her again.”

You were in front of the mirror, bags packed and your friends surrounding you. You can finally return back home and with a piece of the Dark Mirror in your hands you can communicate with them whenever you desired.

Deuce beamed at you, “It’ll go great, I know it will! My mother is always kind to me and she wanted what was best for me. I’m sure yours will be the same too!”

Ace hugged you before you left. “It’s seriously going to get so boring without you around. You better contact us or I’ll go over there and kick your ass.” Jokes aside, you and Deuce could tell by the glint in Ace’s eyes that he meant every word. You smiled at him then, because despite knowing each other for a year, the three of you shared an inseparable bond.

“I promise.”

You left them.

Days passed, then weeks, with no word from you. After one month, Ace angrily stormed into the Mirror Chamber and demanded to go see you.

“They do not exist.”

“Of course they don’t fucking exist, they’re in another world- now lead me to them!”

“They do not exist in this world or in any other world.”

“What the fuck do you mean by that!? They were here just a month ago!” Ace lunged at the mirror. His fists futilely pounded on its glassy surface before he tried to shake the mirror out of its placeholder. Deuce had to restrain the wildly thrashing Ace before the ginger stilled in his arms- lifeless. “Whatever, I’m over it.” He took a deep breath and walked away, ignoring Deuce’s and Grim’s cries after him.

If Deuce took better notice of the chill that followed Ace’s steps, maybe things would’ve been different. Instead, he visited the Mirror Chamber until a year passed and he too gave up- only visiting again on occasion, whereas Grim still stops by everyday.

Ace’s friendship with Deuce and Grim were strained at best. The ginger acted the same, but something was different. Like a cherished photo misplaced. Deuce didn’t question when Ace started hanging out with Kalim and Jamil more and Deuce and the other first years less. Nor did he stop to think about why Ace volunteered to do errands for Azul and Crowley. He even looked away when he saw Ace chatting it up with the two princes of the school.

They graduated like this without mentioning the name Y/n.

***

“AAH! Oh no are you alright?” Deuce yelled after you when you somersaulted from a heavy onslaught of his color-changing magic. “I’m so sorry!”

You could only giggle at your current state. Ace warned you not to get close to Deuce while he was changing the colors of the roses, but you assumed being behind Deuce would be safe. You were now paying for your mistakes. “Don’t worry about it Deuce,” you paused. The smile you flashed him revealed a weariness he couldn’t comprehend. “It was my fault too.”

***

Two years later, Deuce finally passed his test to become part of Rose Kingdom’s Elite Division. Right after orientation, he was pleasantly surprised by a visit from Ace who threw an arm over the bluenette’s shoulders and cheekily grinned at him like the two never grew apart. For a long moment, Deuce believed they never did as the two went to a bar to celebrate and catch up. Deuce breezed through all the sleepless nights he spent studying and training; Ace regaled his continuation of his internship. 

“They loved me so much they made a new position to get me to stay!” he said. “And guess what? He said that if he becomes prime minister he’ll make me one of his advisors. Not too bad huh?”

Deuce couldn’t be happier for Ace. He always wondered what Ace, who blanched at the idea of the future, would do with his life. He admits, however, that politics was the furthest thing he would ever imagine his friend doing. “Being in the political scene can be dangerous I hear. Luckily I can assign my own bodyguards, including a certain elite policeman.”

This was news to Deuce. He was unaware of any political strife that would need the Elite Division, which specialized in magic-related crimes, to act as bodyguards... Maybe he needs to follow the news more closely. Regardless, Deuce grinned with all teeth and slammed his fist in his palm. “Just leave it to me, no way in hell I’ll let my buddy get hurt.”

“...Glad I can count on you... buddy.”

***

Deuce helped you up and tried to wipe off the paint on your uniform. You didn’t bother telling him that he was only smearing the paint into your clothes because of the look of concentration on his face telling you how hard he wanted to make this right. “Oh Deuce, you ended up painting the finished roses blue too.”

“What? Oh no...” he groaned at the extra work he’ll have to do. Will he be in time for the Unbirthday Party?

“Hey relax, I’ll help you out! We should be finished within an hour if we hurry,” you reassured him. He flashed you a grateful smile which you returned with a soft smile of your own.

***

The time between then and the election passed with a blink of an eye. Once his candidate won, Ace swaggered over to Deuce’s department with the confidence and authority that didn’t fit a 21 year-old advisor. It didn’t take long for Deuce to find himself a part of Ace’s security detail. It took an even shorter amount of time for Deuce to feel like he was slowly crawling into a waking nightmare.

Deuce tried to ignore it, tried to give Ace the benefit of the doubt, but he couldn’t excuse the things Ace did right in front of him. Dismissals of important emergency committees, deregulation of organizations with authority, increased spending on militarized weapons. The public blamed all these new policies on their new prime minister, but Deuce knew who the real mastermind was.

It didn’t take long for him to confront Ace - especially after he realized that the recent strings of overblot cases popping up across the country were a direct result of Ace’s policies.

“So what are you going to do about it?” Ace sneered. Deuce looked away; the gun in his hand hung lifelessly by his side. “You couldn’t even stop Y/n from leaving to die. You definitely won’t stop me from having my way with this country.”

“What?”

“Don’t give me that... You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Ace looked at Deuce like he was a bug beneath his shoe, but the quake in his eyes said otherwise. “You’re hereby dismissed from your post. If the next time I see you and you try to stop me, I’ll crush you.”

Ace walked away from Deuce- just like he did years ago.

“I’ve done too much to have you get in my way.” 

***

Deuce felt so lucky to have met you, despite the rocky beginning. You never hesitated to help and encourage him. Sometimes, when his vague idea of an honor student wasn’t enough to guide him, he would look to you.

He wondered if you knew how much he wanted to repay you for being you.

He wondered if he can one day be someone you would be proud to know.

He wondered... what you thought of him.

***

The familiar halls of Night Raven College felt comforting - a temporary balm to the turmoil Deuce felt lately. He had hoped to see some of his old teachers and Crowley, but the school’s headmaster was tasked to find the Magic Mirror, the legendary mirror that the Beautiful Queen used once upon a time. No doubt, this was Ace’s doing.

When Deuce reached the Mirror Chamber, he was surprised to find Grim was nowhere to be found. Deuce ignored the churning in his stomach and thought to himself that maybe he was just early. After all these years, Grim never stopped believing that you would return to them. Crowley always spoke with pity in his voice about how the little monster would visit the Dark Mirror everyday- waiting, staring.

Deuce respectfully crouched in front of the mirror - like a mourner in front of a grave. 

“Hello Y/n I’m sorry it’s been a while since my last visit,” Deuce began, he softly smiled while thinking of all the memories he had of you. “I was able to pass the qualifications to be part of the Elite Division. One of my first assignments was actually to guard Ace, can you believe that?”

He paused and tried to gulp down the lump in his throat. “Um… about Ace he… he’s made it big as a politician. He’s my friend and I was happy for him but… a part of me is scared. He’s not the same anymore after you left Y/n. Looking back, I can’t help but think how reckless and dumb we were to risk our lives against people we had no chance against. But we always made it through thanks to you.” Every single sentence, every single word came out in a rush. It was a confession to all the sins he committed letting Ace go. A realization that he could never be the man he wanted you to be proud of.

“You somehow make the impossible possible… I… I really need that right now...” He begged, “Please… I need...”

Deuce didn’t realize he was crying until the tears flowed down his cheeks and onto his clenched fists. He looked up at the Dark Mirror and activated it. “Oh Dark Mirror, show me Y/n.”

“...”

“They do not exist.”

***

“Hey Deuce,” you began as you picked up a blue rose. The two of you were almost done cleaning up the mess Deuce made and you decided now was the time to take a breather. Deuce slouched in the shade of the hedge, too tired to do anything but hum to show he was listening. “In my world, blue roses were never found naturally, so they symbolized the impossible. But after years of research, my world was able to grow one.”

You handed Deuce the rose, its petals shone brilliantly despite its withering edges. Deuce took it curiously and the two of you shared a sweet smile.

“They now symbolize miracles.”

[sinister-stuff-and-things]

Lone, lone, lonely, chapter 3

A/N: Okay so. I dont know what this is or why it took so long or if anybody even cares anymore, but I’ve had this sitting in my work in progress ordner for... I wanna say over a year? So with the help of my lovely friend @not-safeforsanders and honestly a fucking miracle, I managed to finish it. I know I planned for three more parts to this soooo... see you in two years. Chapter 1  Chapter 2

Taglist: @sanderssidessmutmonth  @smuttysanderssidestwopointoh @wellthatsonewaytofuckyourself @vanitasequilibriumsmut @karmel-slave-to-sin @sanderssidesnsfw @tisiswheremysmuthappens @sanderssidesstuffs001 @melchann @saderssinsss @fand-ore @peachy-patton-writes @follow-the-bouncing-ball @khadij-al-kubra @unchainedkinks @little-lovebug-safespace @sanderssidesnsfw

Warnings: Its smut. Crying.

They bickered the whole morning, much to Logan's and Virgil's amusement. It felt weird to be the centre of attention, to be the object of desire. He had never thought he could enjoy this so much. 

He ended up choosing Patton for his first 'date'. Simply because they knew each other the longest and because, the day he had planned out for them sounded delightful. 

They would spend the entire time at home, baking pizza together and indulging in some of their favourite movies. It was a slow start, just the right thing to ease him in, unlike Roman's elaborate ideas that just made him nervous, or Virgil's hesitancy to take control. But he didn't outright object to them. He was still looking forward to it, just... not for now. 

The thing with Virgil is, that he would be just as nervous as Logan himself. They would end up just doing nothing and existing quietly alongside each other, which Logan usually adores, but... this was not the point of the experiment. He had to try new things, break out of his routine and that could only happen if he was the one to take the first step. In Virgil's case at least. Logan needed to collect confidence through the other two, he needed someone who could guide him through the experience for now. 

Patton was the perfect choice. 

They decided to do it as soon as possible, neither of them could stand this tension any longer and a sunday seemed to be the perfect day for this kind of date.

It was exactly what Logan needed. Calm, easy and predictable. Patton managed to calm his nerves each and every time with an impossibly silly pun or just a simple smile, his touches staying soft and gentle, almost casual while they danced around each other in the kitchen. 

He knew he could bail out at any second, if he needed to. Just go to his room and the whole thing would be over, no hard feelings, no consequences, no nothing. 

But he also knew, the moment of truth would come eventually. 

This kept the anticipation bubbling in his stomach but thankfully never quite turned into unbearable anxiety. 

After baking the Pizza and cleaning the flour from every surface and themselves, they sat down on the couch to start the first movie. And there they stayed. Just lounging around on the couch, the curly head chasing the physical contact like a dog chasing a treat, but Logan enjoyed it. He was used to Patton needing a lot of affection and finally having someone this close again, made something inside him finally warm up a bit . It felt right. 

They only got up to get drinks and their food or for occasional bathroom breaks but other than that, they stayed linked, at least one body part always touching the other one. Patton's head in Logan's lap, Logan's feet draped over Patton's legs, hands intertwined, arms curled around each other. 

And then realisation struck. 

Halfway through Lilo and Stitch, Logan realised that this, exactly this, was all he had ever wanted. If relationships could be this easy, this natural, he would say yes in a heartbeat. 

The domesticity of it all, that's what got him in the end. 

And then, he was just moving, leaning down and tilting Patton's face upward, connecting their lips in a soft kiss and finding himself never wanting to let go again. 

Kissing Patton was easy, it came natural to him. Lips moving against each other, hands getting lost in hair and soft breaths being shared between kisses. 

Eventually, the smaller one climbed into Logan's lap, wrapping his arms around his neck and just pulling him close, letting him brush his fingertips up and down his spine. 

Soon, Patton's lips connected with Logan's sensitive neck, kissing a line up and nipping at his ear. 

“You know... you can always say no but uhm... I would love to move this to the bedroom.” 

Logan nodded. Within barely a second of the offer, he had already agreed and it surprised them both. 

Theoretically, they could just do it right here on the couch. No one was around to disturb them, but it was important to Patton that Logan felt as comfortable as possible and he figured his partner would need a bit of structure to calm his nerves. It would be his first time after all. 

Patton grabbed the others hand and led the way. Still, Logan felt like he should assume the role of the top, the subtle gesture being completely lost on him. 

He took a shaky breath, trying to pull Patton's shirt over his head and overall just being very clumsy with it all. 

Patton giggled and cupped the others face, making his worried eyes look down at him. 

“Lolo... no. Calm down a little, okay? It's all gonna be okay, I promise. Would you mind letting me take the lead tonight? Just so I can show you the ropes. You could just lean back and enjoy the show.”

Truly, a mixed bag, Logan thought before nodding again, not quite trusting his vocal chords at the moment. 

He had to swallow thickly as the, otherwise so innocent boy, pushed him onto the bed, helped him out of his clothes and pulled his own off as well. 

They were only in their boxers now, nothing special. They had seen each other like that before. They had been friends for ages after all. 

What was new, was the massive bulge in Patton's boxers, making Logan stare for an embarrassingly long time. 

Patton just giggled again and eased him onto the mattress, making sure to prop enough pillows under his head. 

“Like what you see?”

It would have been sexy and sophisticated, if he hadn't added that ridiculous eyebrow wiggle. 

Logan coloured significantly and caught himself wanting to get rid of those last layers of fabric as soon as possible. 

“You're- You are- You... fuck. C-can I...?”

Not a very masterful attempt at constructing a question, but Patton still seemed to understand. 

“Yeah... do whatever you want, just... I really want to make you feel good tonight. Will you let me?” 

Logan merely nodded and stretched his hands out, tracing Patton's beautiful shape and only now fully grasping what it all meant. 

Patton was truly adorable. He had, what he himself called 'a cookie dough' body type. Curvy and a little fuller around the belly, hips and thighs. 

And Logan adored it. 

He knew for a fact, that each and every one in their little group of friends, had issues with at least one part of their body. 

But Logan felt as if he was the most boring one. He didn't have Virgil's long, thin limps and edge of his collar and hip bone being so visible against his skin, he didn't have Roman's incredible built, with shoulders like a swimmer and muscles like a warrior and he sure as hell did not have Patton's curves. 

Logan was of average height, had a plain and simple body structure and generally nothing interesting going on for him. 

Patton seemed determined to get rid of each of these negative thoughts single handedly though, seeing how lovingly he let his hands slide over the others chest and hips, how his lips traced the line of Logans collar bone and up his neck, making him shiver.

“Gosh Lolo, I wanna take you apart for hours, just to see that pretty face of yours light up again...”

Logan had to swallow hard, already feeling incredibly impatient, which was very out of character for him, but he might just spontaneously combust if the knot in his stomach got any tighter. He was just too nervous and scared, that it all would turn out to be nothing but a cruel joke. So enjoying the slow pace right now, proved difficult. He wanted to seal the deal already, so he eagerly lifted his hips as Patton hooked his finger under his boxers waistband. 

As his last shield was removed, he realised how incredibly vulnerable and open he was making himself for the world to see. Or well, just Patton in this case. But whats the difference, right? So he wasn't feeling any less scared of rejection. 

“You now, we can always take it slow, right? We don't have to go all the way tonight, I could just-”

“No!” 

Logan flinched at how his voice cracked as he raised it in protest, so he just shook his head to emphasize his point. 

“No I want- I want to go all the way. Please Pat, I can't wait any longer. I'm ready, I promise.”

Patton sighed but smiled softly in response, letting his warm hands soothe along Logan's smooth skin. 

“Okay. But you promise to tell me right away if it gets too much, okay?”

Another nod and finally, Patton's hands were on him again, but this time, less hesitant. They stroked over his chest, teasing his nipples and pushing his legs apart. Logan would have never guessed how sensitive his inner thighs could be. 

He managed to keep his mouth shut, partially to not embarrass himself and partially, because he was just so used to it. But he had a feeling, that his composure would be slowly drained from him, as his breath caught in his throat at the mere sound of a bottle cap popping open. 

He cracked his eyes open to watch Patton spread the sticky liquid on his fingers and even rub them together to warm it up slightly. 

“I know what you're about to ask and yes. Yes I'm ready, Patton.”

The other just looked at him dumbfounded for a second, before breaking out in chuckles. 

“You're so eager, Baby. Can't stand to not be in control, mh? Oh, just you wait, one of those days I'm gonna make you wait for it until this beautiful mind of yours is filled with nothing but want and need.”

Logan outright whimpered at that suggestion, having to swallow hard and close his eyes, needing a moment to calm his nerves. Still, after releasing a shaky breath, he managed to spread his legs a little more, letting skilled fingers circled his hole. 

A wince managed to get past his tightly closed lips, but it soon morphed into a moan. 

Patton's fingers managed to go so much deeper than his own ever could and they weren't all impatient and quick, they built up speed, slowly getting him ready, while pressing all the right buttons. 

In mere minutes, Logan was reduced to a moaning, writhing mess, pushing his hips down, while trying to get Patton's fingers to fuck him faster, to press against that certain spot harder, but the other wouldnt budge, covering him in kisses and compliments, while working him up to three fingers. 

Even though he insisted that he was ready after the second, Patton just shook his head and kissed his lips, knowing full well that he was a lot to take.

It drove Logan crazy. He was so close already, shivering and moaning each time  fingers just so much as brushed against his prostate, but each and every time he thought he might fall over the edge, Patton pulled away, redirecting his approach and working on just stretching the other. 

Logans whole body was tense and his legs were slowly beginning to shake with the effort, making him almost consider throwing in the towel, just so he could finally cum. But then Patton pulled back, pressing a final kiss to his forehead and beginning to rummage in his jeans pockets for the condom that was stored there. 

Logan expected his nerves to come back with a vengeance, but all there was left for him to feel was impatience. 

Seeing the full length of Patton's cock for the first time, made his mouth go dry and a curse slip from his lips. Still, his legs fell open easily, his arms reaching out to pull his lover into a deep kiss. 

Their glasses clanked together awkwardly, but they left them on, neither of them not wanting to be able to see. 

“I'm gonna go slow, okay baby? It might still hurt a bit and I really don't want to make you cry.”

Logan all but scoffed at that thought, definitely not wanting to subject himself to the horrible embarrassment but also truly about to reach his breaking point. 

“Patton, I swear to god, if you go any slower- o-oh...” 

This might be Logan's first time doing it with someone else, but he had extensive experience with his own fingers and toys, so he should have been fine, right? 

Yeah, no. 

There are worlds between that and what was happening in that moment. 

Feeling Patton's body weigh down on him slightly, having his legs stretched out and wrapped around hips, feeling every single inch of the other sliding into him, filling him up to the brim, knocking the breath out of him. 

And then there was that incredible heat, coiling in his stomach, radiating from the others body and filling his lungs. 

At one point, Logan felt like he couldn't take any more, there couldn't possibly be more to take, but alas, he was wrong. 

As Patton finally bottomed out with a soft sigh, Logan felt himself slip into a state of pure sensation, his mind shutting off for good. 

The others slow but steady rolling of his hips, turning into cautious thrusts, had him panting and clinging onto everything he could, letting out little whines of pleasure. 

“Oh Lo... Lolo ah, you feel so perfect... You're perfect, you know that? So smart and beautiful and kind and lovely and you feel so good and I've... oh I've wanted to kiss you for years now. I love you, you know that, right? We all do, Lolo and- oh no...”

And then, Logan did end up crying. His eyes were closed and he felt so full, so warm and so absolutely adored, that it became a bit too much for him. 

The symphony of sensation, the perfect mixture of being held, of having his body gently guided, of being loved and fucked at the same time. It made something break inside of him. 

That seemed to be a good thing though, because Logan found himself clenching his legs around Patton's hips and his arms clinging to the others neck, refusing to let go, not allowing his partner to pull away or end things prematurely.

“Dont. D-dont you dare stop now, Patton. Keep going, I need it, I want it, please just... just keep going?”

It wasn't supposed to sound like a question, but that's how it came out. Unsure and needy and Logan would have been horrified, if he had the capacity to feel anything other than need and love right now. 

Pattton looked momentarily alarmed, before finally being able to shake off his worry, a reassuring smile slipping onto his lips as he cupped Logans face, brushing some of his tears away with his thumb and sealing their lips back into a kiss. 

“I've got you... just hold on to me, okay? I've got you.”

Logan didn't even manage to nod as the other picked up his thrusts again, this time without hesitation. His back was arched up high, his head thrown back and fingers tangled into messy curls. 

His voice was now reaching a volume, he had never imagined possible, all control slipping from him as his moans bounced off the walls and mixed so perfectly with Patton's whispered promises. 

As a warm hand managed to slip in between their bodies and close around Logans neglected cock, it took all but two seconds for him to finally let go. The orgasm ripped out of him so suddenly and forcefully, he saw stars for a few moments. 

Staying awake after that proved to be incredibly difficult and the only thing he could really process was Patton pulling away, just to tug the blankets up around their bodies and cuddling in next to him almost immideatly. 

Despite the incredible calmness Logan was experiencing, his limbs being heavy and sleep tugging at the edges of his consciousness, something did bother him. 

“Pat... Patton you didnt...do you want me to uhm... do something?”

Patton laughed gently and shook his head, simply pulling his very sleepy partner into a hug and beginning to play with his hair. 

“Its alright, love. You did wonderfully and as long as you're okay, I don't need you to do anything right now. Maybe another time.”

Yes, Logan thought while finally succumbing to sleep. Definitely another time.

[belamourelysianlimerence]

SFW Alphabet

Tony Stark Edition

'Mkay. My baby here's not feelin' too good so, I'm gonna do this to see if she'll cheer up. Kay pumpkin'?'

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

'Uhh..' *shrugs* 'I think I'm affectionate. Kisses, hugs, other more intimate things. *scratches face* they're really... quite touch starved, so I want to take care of them as much as I can. Though I have been told that I can be quite obsessive and annoying..... I feel like I'm in marriage counseling.'

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

'You have to be cool to be my friend. You gotta know people, have hot rods, hot babes..... I'm totally kidding, though I don't just make friends on a whim.'

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

'I cuddle. Yes sir... mame... whoever is asking. I do like my own space, but if I get bored or tired of that, I'll grab 'em, and keep them close to me. Sometimes I don't even realize I need a break until they set themselves in my lap, which really snaps me out of my deep thoughts, and helps me "focus" on relaxing.'

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

'I do.' *looks over* 'I do want to settle down. If you had asked me years ago.... like seriously, I probably would have said yes, but my world didn't require that then, so I didn't feel the need. They can't cook, and apparently neither can I...

I have a maid who cleans, so... I don't want them to worry about that.'

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

'Huh... that's a hard one. I mean, I have my own methods. I have short relationships carefully planned out, categorized, and set up in their own filing cabinet.... but, for this one... I've never really thought about it...

I guess you can tell 'em how I was if it ever happens... but, it won't, so....'

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

'Tahdah!'

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

'Physically.... I-I can be romantic, and soft, gentle... I can also be rough and demanding. Emotionally.... they know the answer to that, and I'm not sharing.'

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

'Who the fuck doesn't like hu-Loki... Loki isn't fond of hugs. I mean, he'll hug, but not like a proper hug. I give the best hugs. Don't listen to the other avengers about Bruce or Thor. It's me. I hug them a lot. Just at random.

They like i- you like it, right? They like it... what are my hugs like?'

Safe.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

'Ooo. That's another hard ball. With them? Uh... it took me a while to get my head out of my ass, but luckily they helped. Got me some miralax. Do you know how hard it is to drink with your head up your ass? ....sorry, I'm... pandering. I was the first to say it. I'll say it till my dying day.

I love you.'

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

*sigh* 'I don't get jealous, I get... even. Someone is flirting or being inappropriate? I make their life harder for them. Put salt in their drink, or, make sure they are late to whatever dipshit job they have. Just a few inconveniences. Nothing nasty.'

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

'I love kisses. It's my favorite pass time. Especially them.

I could kiss you for hours...

and they let me. I don't think I have a preferred place to be kissed, but I know they love neck kisses.'

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

'Honestly, I used to be nervous around them, and I'm still a little uneasy around kids I don't know. But, my own kids are special to me, and I love them with all my heart.'

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

'I wake up first and bring them coffee after letting them sleep in for a bit while I shower, check on the news, etcetera... despite my lack of cooking skills... I make sure they're fed well and don't want for anything.'

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

'Same way.'

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

'It took me a hot second to talk about myself, my private self with them, but they're so easy to talk to. I feel like I can tell them anything. So, it's been really great.'

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

'I get angry when people I care about get hurt. Other than that, it's hard to truly anger me.'

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

'I know almost everything about them... I made a list that I keep hidden away in case I forget something. I have Jarvis take notes as well. I do try to remember, but I get so busy, sometimes I need help.'

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

'Gosh... I don't have a favorite... pahaha.. I know one that makes me laugh though. I had them take out my arc reactor for a hot second.

You surprised me, Pep was such a scaredy cat, and you were incredibly calm. I'm proud of you.'

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

'Yeah, no, you're not allowed around them unless I say so. Can they have their own friends... sure. But, if anyone appears sketchy, I'm on their ass. ..... I think all this saving the world has made me paranoid.'

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

'I like to think I go above and beyond. Dinner, dancing, multiple honeymoons in exotic places. I practically embarrass them with how far i'll go. They go beet red and hide. It's a bittersweet feeling.... and they liked the rabbit... it wasn't for them, of course, but they liked it. Take that, Pep.'

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

'Of mine? I... mmm... I'm a sarcastic, selfish, narcissistic bastard... I'll admit that. Other than that... I'm a worrier.. perhaps a people pleaser in some regards. But, I'm working on it.'

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

'I have no reason to be concerned. I'm sexy as fuck.'

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

'They're my heart. Proof Tony Stark has a heart? No, proof that Tony Stark can regulate a heart.' *points* 'They are my heart. Without my heart, I have no need for an arc reactor.'

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

'I don't know what this means.'

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

'Probably everything I am. Haha... yeah, in my case, opposites attract.'

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

'I get nightmares, they get nightmares, we help each other..... yeah.'

'Well, this was fun, but someone fell asleep on the couch, so I'm going to go get a blanket and watch some tv and go to bed myself. Signing off.'

[honeyctzen]

domesticated - kd

genre: smut, petplay

warnings: kitten!play, dom!doyoung, oral (male recieving), unprotected sex, spanking 

words: 4.4k

The sky outside darkened a midnight blue as you sat quietly on the couch, watching shapes and colours contort on the television. Your mouth widened in a yawn as shuffling footsteps wandered over from the kitchen, they gently pattered until your boyfriend Doyoung appeared from behind a wall. His eyes darted around the room as he set a bowl of popcorn on the table, fingers curling around a piece before he lumped down beside you. His tall frame slumped on the sofa, arm nearest to you stretching around, giving you the room the snake around his torso. Cosying into Doyoung you felt his fingers bury into your waist, his other hand reaching over and grabbing the remote. You felt the rumble of a pondering sigh, Doyoung beginning to flick through the channels as he always did. He was indecisive, easily bored and on nights like this, where neither had work the next day or a reason to protest, you knew how it would end.

Even the night you met he was like this.

In college, you had found it difficult to bond with anyone. Parties were too loud, being alone in your dorm was too quiet, balancing the two was near impossible. Especially when you hadn’t had much experience with people or being away from home in the first place. In the end, you relied heavily on your roommate to take you out and show you the way of the world. And she tried her hardest, it’s just that not much of it interested you though you did try your best.

After another night sat in the quietest room of a frat party, you began to feel despondent to the entire college experience altogether. You flicked through the books in the bedroom you’d barricaded yourself in, sighing when a porno magazine fell from between two classic novels. You bent over to pick it up, skirt riding high although it didn’t seem to matter alone in the room. As your fingers grabbed the corner as to avoid any residue that may linger between pages, you heard the oak door behind you open wide. A panic washed over you, heat rising to your cheeks as you half expected to spin around and find a drunken couple wanting to consummate. Instead, as you turned, while holding the magazine behind your back cautiously, you saw a sober looking man stood in the doorframe.

The blush hanging over your cheeks only intensified. His stature was large, shoulders broad in his blue, baggy jumper. Eyes big and brown, dark hair falling into his eyes as his slender fingers came up to brush it away. You stood speechless as his bottom lip became hooked beneath his teeth, his eyebrows furrowing for a moment before he stepped into the room. Your chest felt thick with embarrassment. You kept the magazine pressed tightly to your back, stepping back and the man stepped forward.

‘Sorry, I thought this room was free.’ You said quietly.

‘Uh, no, no, it’s fine honestly, I just um, usually keep my bedroom off limits while there’s parties. I like it, clean, don’t want people you know, in my bed.’ The man whispered, and despite the loud music, you could hear his every low toned word perfectly.

‘Understandable. I’m really sorry, I just kinda wanted to get out the way of everyone,’ you chuckled nervously, ‘I don’t really like parties that much.’

‘Like I said, it’s fine.’ The man smiled wide, exposing a gummy grin that only made you blush further. ‘I’m Doyoung by the way.’ He finished, reaching his hand out to shake yours.

Instinctively, you lurched forward. The magazine slipping out of your grip for just a moment, but long enough for it to drop to the ground. It splayed open on the carpet, thudding wide to the centre fold. Your chest tightened; stomach burned. You couldn’t bare to look back at what Doyoung was seeing.

‘I’m so sorry.’ You apologized quickly.

‘Where was that?’

‘Um, on the bookshelf, between Dracula and Wuthering Heights. It kinda just fell out, I, um, wanted to read.’ You laughed at how ridiculous you sounded.

‘Oh, right.’ Doyoung managed somehow to look more worried than you, his fingers scratching at his head. As his arm raised up, so did his jumper, revealing the soft toned torso beneath. You felt yourself tighten.

‘Look, I’m sorry, I should let you get to bed or,’ you mumbled as quickly as you could, wishing to vanish from the building altogether. You spun on your heels once again, bending down to pick up the magazine and return it to its owner. However, when you did, you actually saw what was sprawled across the pages.

A woman was sat on a red, leather sofa in a pristine lingerie, her privates covered though the sheerness left nothing to the imagination. Her arms were twisted behind her back, threaded together perfectly with thick, crimson rope. Her legs were wide open on the sofa, still covered in the same beautiful rope but this time only for aesthetic purposes. The expression on her face was that of pleasure, eyes closed, mouth wide kind of pleasure. Her makeup and hair was immaculate, untouched. It was a beautiful image, the kind that could have gotten away with being in an art gallery.

Confusion waved over you. The expectation of seeing unrealistic, graphic depictions of two women or a woman and a man had been dashed. There was only a soft, artistic image that left you with no words, only a deep yearning that maybe one day, you could be that woman. Clearly desired, clearly within someone’s control but beautiful and immaculate all the same.

Doyoung let out a withering sigh as you lifted the magazine and turned to face him. He stepped closer, fighting back the urge to rip the magazine from your grasp and throw it underneath his bed. Doyoung waited for you to wrinkle your face in disgust, to snicker at the image but nothing of the sort happened. Instead, you began to flick through the images. Turning your head to see all the sideward pages, tracing your fingers over the threads of rope that where consistent throughout the entire magazine. You pondered at it as though it were an art magazine, you seemed to appreciate it as one. Doyoung was gobsmacked.

After a few moments, you closed the magazine, handing it over to Doyoung. He gently took it from you, his fingers dancing over yours for a moment before the heat of his digits disappeared.

‘It’s beautiful.’ You said without thinking.

‘What?’

‘Um, it’s beautiful.’ You repeated.

‘Yeah, yeah, it is.’ Doyoung concurred nervously, staring at your features as they twisted in thought.

‘Do people actually do that? Or is it just for the pictures?’

‘You mean the, the rope?’ Doyoung asked politely as you merely nodding back shyly, your lip between your teeth.

‘I think I’d like to try it.’ You admitted, looking up at Doyoung to find his eyebrows scrunched in disbelief. ‘With you, please.’ You finished, not quite understanding what you’d asked for, but knowing in your gut that it felt right.

Nearly two years later and you were still trying out so many different, new things with Doyoung. When you met, you were both shy. Wrapped up in desires both of you thought no one but you had, but meeting each other, it gave you both the outlet you desperately needed. You often looked for things to try, often on nights like this when you both had time to kill. Whether it was between the pages of magazines or online, you found that both you and Doyoung had an endless stream of erotic things you wanted to try.

A ritual you’d created early into your relationship was looking at the trending page of a porn site, rooting around for something you hadn’t already done a thousand times and trying it. No pre-judgements, no reservations, just trying something to see the outcome. There were times when you or Doyoung decided the thing was not for you but often enough, both of you found that whatever you did, as long as it was with each other, it was perfect. This ritual however meant that things often got a little taboo which didn’t bother either of you but there was a certain stigma to some things and sometimes that did give you reservations. Out of an ingrained habit that was built into all people, when you saw something strange, it took a lot to try it. But with Doyoung, you never felt uncomfortable.

Doyoung sighed from beside you signally that he could find nothing to watch and so, the ritual begun.

You peered up at him, eyes big and doe. Doyoung waited for a moment before looking down and smiling warmly. ‘You wanna choose something tonight?’

Your mouth lifted to smile back at him, nodding happily, hands almost snatching the remote from your boyfriend. He chuckled. Usually you both picked, though really, you’d go along with whatever Doyoung wanted. Letting you choose without protesting was a special occasion and it made you light up like nothing else. You opened up the website on the television, still shy about looking at such lewd things in front of someone else on a large scale. The screen became sodden with erotic video links and dirty advertisements, all clearly made by men who knew nothing about women. You tutted to yourself, flicking down through the pages and pages until something towards the bottom left caught your eye.

‘Naughty kitten punished.’

With eyebrows knotted you turned to Doyoung. ‘Is this really a thing? Dressing up like a cat, I mean, I know I’ve done it for Halloween but for, fucking?’

‘Of course, it is. If you can think of it, there’s probably porn made of it.’ He retorted with a smirk wiped across his lips.

‘I don’t like that sentiment.’

‘So, that’s a no?’ Doyoung peered, careening his head to stare his umber orbs into yours. His grip around your side tightened a little, allowing you to feel the warmth emanating from beneath his black t-shirt. From habit, you closed your eyes, enjoying the small circles he drew into your hip.

‘Well?’

‘I, I mean, it’s weird, right? Dressing up like an animal?’ You said sceptically.

‘Obviously, but it’s not out of the league of what we’ve done before.’ Doyoung added.

‘I guess.’

‘It’s your call, princess.’

‘Uh, I mean, I have the costume… maybe it’d be nice to get some use out of it?’ You felt yourself defending your ideas, ideas that you knew deep down Doyoung would never judge. And yet, the shame of desire was so engrained in you, that you could not help it.

‘Let’s go get you dressed then.’ Doyoung smiled, standing from the couch, his stature above you like a skyscraper. You fought back the urge to reach out for his jean button right then and instead smiled to yourself with sparks alight in your mind.

‘Maybe I should go alone, if you come, we’ll never get back out the bedroom.’ You taunted standing up beside Doyoung. His smile lowered as yours grew ten-fold. You found your hands resting on Doyoung’s wide shoulders, pushing him back slightly until he sat back against the sofa. His legs widened, back slumping, as though inviting you to sit atop him, instead, you began walking to the bedroom, a chuckle leaving your mouth.

After sulking into the bedroom, you shared with your boyfriend, you began the hunt for the outfit you’d worn once and long forgotten. While it was true that Doyoung accompanying you would’ve lead to something before you’d be able to grasp the costume, you also needed to root through your messy wardrobe for it. Which was, undoubtedly, a mood killer. Through grumbles and profanities, your hands dived through piles of clothes, each pile loosely organised by occasion. Dating Doyoung meant that the fancy dress pile was rather large and took some time to sift through. Until, almost at the bottom of the pile, two clip on ears poked out. As you grasped them, the soft fur tickled your palm, their deep brown nearly matching Doyoung’s eyes. Beneath the ears was a pink, leather collar that Doyoung had gifted you separate from the costume and to match, you pulled a set of pink, lacy lingerie from another messy pile.

You tugged down your sweatpants and removed the hoodie you’d stolen from Doyoung earlier in the day and pulled the pink lace over your head. The soft material felt like warm honey on your skin, and perfectly covered your body enough that you felt like the woman in that magazine. After slithering the undies up your bare legs, you grappled the ears once more. With fur between your fingers, you attached them high on your head, staring in the mirror at how sweet the clips looked. You smiled strangely excited for what you had been a little weirded out at first.

Staring down at your collar, a thought came to you, bringing warmth to your loin. You wandered over to a set of draws by the bed, heaved open the bottom section and pulled out a chain leash, the metal clasps jingling as you did so. Your smile grew as you flattened your hair and prepared yourself.

Timidly, you tiptoed back into the living room, head low as you approached where Doyoung still sat. With open palms, you knelt before your boyfriend, raising the items that sat atop your hands. After a few moments of silence, you peered up gently, looking over his face for any kind of emotion.

‘Look down.’ He muttered sullenly.

You followed his order immediately, keeping your palms up but eyes toward the hardwood floor. After another moment, the weight of the chain and collar disappeared and Doyoung’s feet came into your view and moved behind you. Though a cautious wave of anxiety rolled through your stomach, you still remained staring at the floor in silence. A sigh passed through your lips as cold fingers brushed your hair aside and cool leather pressed against your throat. Doyoung’s cold digits appeared again as he buckled up the collar and latched on the chain leash to hold you in place.

His hand remained low of the chain, gripping it so tight that it choked you slightly but still, you stared at the ground, motionless. A low snicker came from behind you, making your stomach swirl and tighten as moisture moved toward your heat. It was torture not to turn and look at him but following his orders was more important. You waited for what felt like forever until a palm mellowed over the top of your head, soothing over your hair, and following over the ears. Doyoung’s frame moved around you, allowing for you to see his lower legs once more and just knowing he was there, that he was the one touching you made it harder not to look up.

‘Look up at me baby.’ Doyoung finally said.

Your head snapped up immediately, big eyes staring desperately toward Doyoung and the grin smeared across his face. The confidence clearing instilled in him was terrifying and so, so arousing. You mewled, Doyoung raising his eyebrows as he smoothed over your head once more. From instinct you pushed your head up into his palm, nuzzling close to feel warmth from him.

‘My good kitten.’

A warmth filled your lower region, burning with every moment Doyoung touched you in any way. Until suddenly, a large heave bevelled through your body, the chain rattling as you were forced to push into Doyoung’s legs. Your hands leant atop his feet, wide eyes begging him to do something, anything. Doyoung merely grinned, tugging on the chain once more as he sat back on the couch and pulled you between his legs. Your features faced his crotch, mouth only a few inches from his covered length that tented his tight jeans. Just seeing you knelt before him, perky ears and collar and pink lace made him unimaginably hard and Doyoung struggled to compose himself. One more tug on your leash and your chin came to sit above his thigh. Doyoung released the chain, sitting it beside himself as he moved his fingers to his jeans.

You felt yourself smile, knowing what was to come. Pushing your face against his thigh, you purred, nose nuzzling into his clothed muscles. Doyoung let out a splintered moan, coaxing you to continue. As you did, you heard the undoing of a zip and rustling of thick material. The silence that settled in after is what made you look up, your eyes widening as you saw Doyoung holding his member tightly, slowly moving his hand up and down. He kept his darkened gaze locked upon you. Moving his other hand, Doyoung cupped your cheeks, soothing his thumb over the blush that painted your skin. His fingers moved slowly until he danced them to the back of your neck, his grip tightening and forcing your face forward. He pulled violently until you were face to face with his length.

‘Go on, kitten.’ Doyoung whispered.

He pushed his length toward you slightly, allowing your lips to engulf the tip and sink down the shaft. Doyoung let his head fall back against the sofa pillow and a low growl fall from his mouth. His noises only propelled you to continue, head bobbing up and down quickly as his member began to hit the back of your throat. It burnt, a kind of burning that travelled all the way down to your core, that was beginning to drip with desire. You lifted your hands and placed them atop Doyoung’s thighs for stability. Doyoung gripped your hair, twisting it into a makeshift ponytail and using it to control your pace. The tightness spread all over your body and ached in your loin. A need for Doyoung to be buried deep within you exploded.

The speed became relentless as you peered upward, staring at Doyoung’s scrunched up features; small, rhythmic groans pouring from his lips. You longed to kiss him, to nuzzle your fuzzy ears into the crook of his neck. You wished to be his pet forever.

‘Baby, stop, stop.’ Doyoung repeated frantically, pulling your mouth off his length by your hair. You understood why he stopped, for he wanted to be within you just as much as you wanted him inside you, but the loss of contact hurt, nonetheless. Spit dribbled from your lips, lining from Doyoung’s member to your mouth. He groaned low once more as you mewled, staring up at him with pleading eyes.

Watching from the ground, Doyoung pushed his hard member back in his jeans, sat up straight and patted his lap. You nearly leap up, pouncing onto Doyoung like the kitten you were pretending to be. With legs either side of him and arms slung over his shoulders, you waited. His expression twisted into a smirk, a devilish thought swirling around his mind.

‘Lie down on me, ass up.’ He muttered sternly. You watched his eyes for a further moment before Doyoung raised his eyebrows and nodded downward at his lap. You lifted yourself slightly and flipped over, placing your waist in Doyoung’s lap. Your face burrowed into the couch, feet kicking the edge of the seat and heat pressing directly onto Doyoung’s still stiff length. After a second, you felt as your boyfriend pulled your lace underwear down your thighs, cold fingers dragging over your skin. He lingered them back up to your ass, spreading his palm wide over the flesh. Doyoung kept it there for a moment, still and gentle, your stomach settling before suddenly, his touch disappeared and reappeared with a sharp, jolting sting.

A yelp came spurting out your lips, a chuckling emanating from Doyoung as again, his touch left and smacked back down. You mewled helplessly, another slap.

‘Count for me, okay kitten, five more.’ He said softly, swaying his hand over your red, hot skin before once more, lifting it and slapping it back down. A gasp escaped your throat.

‘One.’

Doyoung chuckled again, forcing down a particularly devilish spank.

‘Two.’

Your ass burnt painfully, the side that Doyoung had been slapping beginning to feel bruised and swollen. It was beautiful, and as another hit pummelled down upon you, a wave of pleasure rippled through you.

‘Three.’

Another.

‘Four.’

Doyoung soothed over your skin one more time as he lifted his hand and brought it down mercilessly. You yelped once more, feeling the other side burn just as the first. A small tear spat from your eye, trickling down your cheek and dripping onto the couch below.

‘Five.’ You croaked.

You lay down for a moment, air aggressively attacking your bruised ass as Doyoung removed his hand and placed into on the back of your thigh. He gently stroked the skin, giving you a few moments to catch your breath and recuperate.

Doyoung held onto your upper arm, pulling you up to kneel beside him. A finger coming up to swipe away a stray tear.

‘Do you wanna stop? We can?’ He enquired softly; eyes tender as his hand careened your jaw.

‘Fuck no.’ You said, leaping over once more to sit back in Doyoung’s lap, legs either side of his and lips reaching forward to kiss the man beneath you. With mouths collided, you wrangled your arms around Doyoung’s shoulders, his tongue darting between your lips and exploring your mouth. Instinctively, you began playing with the hair on the back of his neck, pulling slightly so Doyoung tilted his head back. You took advantage of the position, dragging your lips down to kiss and nibble at his slender neck. Doyoung groaned, his hands wandering to the underwear that still sat at your thighs, pulling them lower until they could no longer move. You felt the material dig into your flesh, stuck in their current position. While you wanted your bare heat to sit against Doyoung, you dreaded the idea of moving. He tugged again, helpless.

‘Rip them, rip them please, please.’ You begged, merely wanting to feel him beneath you, desperate for any pressure or friction against your heat.

‘Sure?’

‘Do it.’

Doyoung wrapped his fingers around one side of the fragile, lacy material and heaved it apart. The sound of ripping filled the room as Doyoung groaned, moving the material away as finally, he had access to your core. You felt the bulge in his jeans harden once more, pressed tight to the wetness that was pooling from within you. It burnt to be so close but separated by the already unzipped jeans. Doyoung held your hips, pushing you down to tease. A whimper fell from your lips.

‘Aw, is my kitten desperate? What does she want?’

‘You, please, I want you.’ You mumbled, unable to speak properly from sheer desperation.

‘Want me? To do what?’

‘I want you to fuck me! Please, fuck me!’ You almost screamed helplessly, Doyoung merely grinning, proud he had made you so desperate.

With his hands on your hips, Doyoung pushed you backwards further down his thighs. Giving him enough room to pull his jeans below his waist, allowing his hard member to spring gently from the material. It clung, pressed between his groin and your heat, that had, by now, created a wet patch on Doyoung’s trousers. You pushed upward, kneeling as you moved back up the thighs below you. Doyoung held your waist with one hand and with the other, moved his member to the entrance of your core. He was moving slow, but you wanted him, wanted him buried within you. And so, you pushed downward, feeling as you sunk onto Doyoung and he disappeared within you.

Doyoung let out a moan as you whimpered. The feeling of him inside you, putting pressure against you was intoxicating, so intoxicating that you could not move for a moment. As you began moving, slowly up and down Doyoung’s length, every inch of him burnt against every inch of you. The man below held desperately onto your hips, pulling you up and down to take complete control of the pace. The rhythmic tempo made a coil of pleasure begin to spin in your stomach, the grip upon you tight and almost painful. Another whimper fell from your lips as Doyoung let his head tilt back in pleasure. You shook, placing your hands upon his shoulders for stability, body nearly slumping against him.

His fingers began to trail up your body, tracing the pink, sheer lace that covered your breasts, swirling past and up your throat. His journey stopped, fingers halting and spreading up against your skin as he grappled the chain that attached to the collar. You let a loud moan explode into the atmosphere as you lifted yourself up and down Doyoung’s member, the pleasure in your loin beginning to burn. Low growls fell from Doyoung’s mouth, filling your ears like music as his grip upon you, both on your waist and collar, tightened. Air tightly passed through your windpipe, head spinning as you arched yourself quicker upon Doyoung. He growled loudly, his face scrunching up in pleasure as you felt him release inside of you, the warm liquid applying even more pressure inside your heat. The hot, wet feeling made you complete, and you felt yourself tighten and spasm on his member.

A last, prolonged mewl fell from your lips as you ceased your movements, still sat upon Doyoung’s member. His tempered sighs filled the room, grip on your collar loosening and hand falling back to your waist. You fell into Doyoung. Chests pressed together as sweat mixed like a cocktail of pleasure and sleepiness. Doyoung wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close, your cheek pressed flush against the crook of his neck. While holding you, Doyoung lifted slightly, giving him enough room to remove himself from your heat. A stifled moan fell from both of you, heat swelling around the room. You sighed, sleepy upon your equally tired boyfriend.

‘That was nice.’ You whimpered in a hushed tone.

‘It was, wasn’t it?’ Doyoung agreed, your head tilting upward to stare into his big, doe eyes. ‘C’mon kitten, let’s go and get you cleaned up and in bed.’ He soothed, fingers weaving through your hair as you purred once more against his chest. Nuzzling into him as your ears nudged his chin.

[xbaebsae]

OTP Questions

Tagged by @f0xyboxes , @dieguzguz, @nightwingshero, @deputyrhiannonhale and @returnofthepd3 thanks for thinking of me sweethearts♥

(art by minilev)

Rheese Bennett & Jacob Seed (idk if anyone even reads these except me but under cut because long post)

DISAGREEMENTS

Who is more likely to raise their voice?  Jacob. Now don’t get me wrong, he doesn’t loose his cool all that easy but Rheese can be a pain sometimes and he lacks the patience.

Who threatens to leave but never actually does?  Neither of them.

Who actually keeps their word and leaves?  This is actually what Rheese does when they break up about three months before the game. He finally is too deluded by Joseph’s demands of him that she cannot get through to him anymore and keep him from hurting people. They have a pretty bad fight about him torturing people that ends with him actually slapping her with the intention of making her shut up because she wouldn’t stop arguing against him. She gives him one moment to apologize for that, but he doesn’t so she leaves :’)

Who trashes the house?  They frequently throw things at each other.

Do either of them get physical?  Depends on when. Jacob pushes her around sometimes or touches her pretty roughly when he suffers from the effects of his PTSD. No domestic violence though. They also land real blows in training fights, same level bad on both sides really.

It’s worse during the arrest when they aren’t together anymore. Jacob was pretty devastated when he realized she actually left for good (he interpreted ‘i am leaving’ as her going home). It resulted in a lot of self blame (justified) which his family couldn’t really deal with. Joseph convinced him in the end that she was just another test he had to overcome in his life to find his correct path. So, he pretty much behaves just like he does in-game. She doesn’t get special treatment, she gets starved and thrown into murder trials like everyone else.

How often do they argue/disagree?  Pretty often. In the beginning it’s all they do, until they realize that having normal conversations every once in a while isn’t so bad actually.

Who is the first to apologize?  Apologies are for the weak :)

SEX

Who is on top?  Jacob

Who is on the bottom? Rheese (though she won’t admit it if you asked her)

Who has the strangest desires?  It’s nothing very strange tbh (at least not by my definition of strange... god i’ve seen ... things on deviantart. Definetly none of that!)

Any kinks?  Yeah, the perfect combo of wanting to feel powerless and wanting to feel in control. It complies with their character really. Rheese was forced to take care of herself ever since her teen years, which developed her into a pretty tough person. She likes the control she has over her life, and doesn’t let herself be pushed around by anyone. Feeling stripped of that control is however really exciting for her. Jacob’s kinda the other way around (imo anyway) in that he’s constantly following orders nevermind when or where, even within his own family (to not disappoint Joseph).

Who’s dominant in bed?  Jacob, Rheese only if he forces her to be :)

Is head ever in the equation?  Yes

If so, who is better at performing it?  Rheese. Slightly unfair though because she’s simply worse on the receiving end.

Ever had sex in public?  Yeah, much to her dismay.

Who moans the most?  Rheese

Who leaves the most marks?  Both do in different ways.

Who is the more experienced of the two?  Jacob

Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’?  Even the nastiest sex is ‘making love’ to them really. It’s frankly a form of talking to them because they both truly suck at verbal communication. Also, Rheese has the old fashioned rule in her life that she won’t sleep with people she isn’t sure about, so before actually being together they don’t have sex. Tho she’s close to breaking that rule multiple times.

Rough or soft?  Rough, sometimes foreplay is soft.

How long do they usually last?  Depends on time and mood. Also Rheese is a lot younger so she sometimes could go again when he can’t. However that doesn’t mean he gets the best of her sometimes :’)

Is protection used?  Yes on her side

Does it ever get boring?  No

Where is the strangest place they’d have sex?  Some small cabin at the place they train Judges. It was kinky, they got caught and she prefers to just not talk about it ever again.

FAMILY

Do they plan on having children/or have children?  No, they never wanted to. Their daughter Jaina was an unwanted accident.

If so, how many children do they want/have?  They have 1 and that’s already more than they wanted.

AFFECTION

Who likes to cuddle?  Rheese

Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places?  Jacob usually. But sometimes she’s good at it as well.

Who struggles to keep their hands to themself?  Jacob, and it bothers her a lot in public. He doesn’t really care about what his people think of him, he knows he’s the boss so they can’t say shit. It’s also a way of just showing off that she belongs to him and that’s exactly why she doesn’t like it, cause she ain’t property. Also, people might believe she only became a Chosen trainer because she fucks the boss, which isn’t true because she got that position from someone other than Jake, based entirely on her performance.

How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable?  Until Rheese falls into deep sleep and starts spreading her limbs everywhere uncontrolably.

Who gives the most kisses?  Jacob

What is their favourite non-sexual activity?  Honestly, just existing next to each other is enough. They are just as happy just sitting in the same room, doing their own tasks, as they are going out for a fishing trip (actually she hates fishing, but the lakes are nice).

Where is their favourite place to cuddle?  The bed

How often do they get time to themselves?  Usually evenings and nights. They would have more time together if Rheese didn’t value her alone time. Sometimes she prefers to spend her days off alone, going on a ride through the forests or just relaxing without anybody around. He doesn’t quite approve of that but she doesn’t let herself be locked up.

SLEEPING

Who snores?  None of them

If both do, who snores the loudest?  Nobody

Do they share a bed or sleep separately?  Share a bed when living together.

If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart?  Usually fall asleep cuddling but where they end up is entirely up to chance.

What do they wear to bed?  Underwear usually. Though t-shirts along with that in the beginning.

Are either of them insomniacs?  Jake has trouble sleeping and often wakes up. Her presence helps him but she’s not a magic sleeping pill so the issue never fully disappears.

Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside?  Nah

Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side?  Usually the first, when it’s too hot the latter.

Who wakes up with bed hair?  Both. Rheese loves his messy hair, especially after she bullied him enough into letting it grow a bit. He however calls her hay-head, because her hair gets all tangled up and poofy despite being tied into a braid.

Who wakes up first?  He does, good luck getting her outta bed before 10.

Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other?  Nobody does, they aren’t romantic.

What is their favourite sleeping position?  Rheese digging her face in the space between his neck and shoulders while one leg and one arm hugs him and he has an arm around her.

Do they set an alarm each night?  When there’s work the next day.

Can a television be found in their bedroom?  No, though she sometimes uses his laptop to watch movies.

Who has nightmares?  Jacob has real ones, Rheese only the occasional bad dream we all get sometimes.

Who has ridiculous dreams?  She dreams demented shit sometimes, never talks about it though.

Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed?  Rheese, she’s a restless sleeper. Got kicked out of the bed for it more than once.

Who makes the bed?  Neither of them. They don’t care about it being untidy.

What time is bed time?  Depends. Usually Rheese stays awake longer to finish watching movies.

Any routines/rituals before bed?  Nothing special, sometimes talking, sometimes a movie, sometimes sex, sometimes just hugging in silence.

Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up?  Jake, esp when she talks too much in the morning.

WORK

Who is the busiest?  They both are pretty equally busy.

Who rakes in the highest income?  It doesn’t really matter to them. The cult pays food and since they don’t care much about materialism, they don’t need much money.

Are any of them unemployed?  They have their job in the cult. Rheese works as a deputy before and after her stay there. so no.

Who takes the most sick days?  Neither really take any unless they are really so sick they can’t move. It’s an unhealthy work ethic but they feel useless when just lying in bed all day.

Who is more likely to turn up late to work?  Jake didn’t before, but he sometimes does because of her in the morning. Not that he really minds though, who’s gonna say anything against him?

Who sucks up to their boss?  Jacob in regards to Joseph, which Rheese thinks is very unhealthy. She doesn’t like how he lets himself be used so much and mostly blindly follows whatever his brother says. They have a lot of arguments about this and in the end it’s what ruins their relationship.

What are their jobs?  He’s head of security at Eden’s Gate. She’s a deputy, then pseudo joins the cult and works herself up to become a trainer of the Chosen, then she returns to her deputy position for the arrest.

Who stresses the most?  He does

Do they enjoy or despise their careers/occupations?  Police work wasn’t her passion. It was just a career she thought wouldn’t be boring. No noble motives and such. She only reprises her role as the deputy for the arrest because she falsely blames herself for everyone who’s been hurt by Jake’s hands after she left him. Her return is based on her trying to redeem herself. She had fun training Chosen, but she wouldn’t want to be part of any torture cult.

Jacob barely has any opinion on his work. He believes what he does is what needs to be done and he’s the best suited person for the job. You won’t find him complain, though he secretly just wants peace in his life. He hopes the cult’s actions will ultimately lead to that.

Are they financially stable?  They have enough.

HOME

Who does the washing?  Neither until one of them is fed up with the pile in the sink or the lack of clean plates in the shelf.

Who takes out the trash?  Usually Rheese is bothered by it first.

Who does the ironing?  They don’t

Who does the cooking?  She makes good pancakes. But other than that? Don’t allow her in the kitchen because she can’t cook for shit. He can cook a couple of things but is often simply too lazy to ‘play housewife’ so their dinners often consist of very simplistic things. Occasionally one of them will bring home takeout.

Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying?  Rheese, just...keep her out of the kitchen.

Who is messier?  Both pretty much. His place is a mess and she isn’t bothered by it because her apartment looked the same.

Who leaves the toilet roll empty?  Jake, to annoy her.

Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor?  They both just throw them wherever.

Who forgets to flush the toilet?  Jake, again to annoy her. (her ‘ewww you’re fucking nasty’ face is really entertaining)

Who is the prankster around the house? Neither, they diss each other a lot, sometimes joke on the other’s cost but no deliberate pranks.

Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere?  Doesn’t really happen.

Who mows the lawn?  No lawn

Who answers the telephone?  They answer their own cells respectively. He refuses to get a smartphone.

Who does the vacuuming?  They don’t own a vacuum cleaner. Only a broom and a mop.

Who does the groceries?  Usually he does.

Who takes the longest to shower?  Rheese, she enjoys the feel of hot water on her skin.

Who spends the most time in the bathroom?  Not much difference there. Rheese doesn’t bother anymore with any routines and such after Jake told her he hates when she wears makeup because it makes his hands sticky when he touches her face :’) Though sometimes she will still put eyeliner out of habit.

MISCELLANEOUS

Is money a problem?  No, they don’t need much.

How many cars do they own?  Jake own an old truck and a motorcycle, Rheese used to have a car but sold it. She prefers riding on her horse Nugget anyway.

Do they own their home or do they rent?  She had an apartment in Missoula before ‘joining’. Then she lived at Stone Ridge for a while, then she moved in with him to his place. A tiny cabin far up a mountain at the far outside of the region.

Do they live in the city or in the country?  Country

Do they enjoy their surroundings?  Yes, especially the forests.

What’s their song?  You Give Love a Bad Name - Bon Jovi

What do they do when they’re away from each other?  Working, doing their own thing, living. He’s more possessive about her than she is about it. But they both function normally when not being together.

Where did they first meet?  Technically at the church during her very first sermon to ‘join’ the project. But they only interacted about a week later when he’s supposed to bring her to her initiation at John’s place. They immediately hate each other :’)

Who spends the most money when out shopping?  Whoever does the grocery shopping? They both aren’t big on other shopping trips.

Who’s more likely to flash their assets?  She’s not very show off-y. Jacob likes showing she ‘belongs to him’.

Who finds it amusing when the other trips over?  Both

Any mental issues?  Rheese doesn’t really, she lost her parents and her family is extremely distant but it never gave her trauma.

Jacob still deals with the aftermath of war esp. His PTSD gets bad sometimes and he has sleeping issues.

Who’s terrified of bugs?  She is afraid of spiders, and would appreciate if he killed them when they are in the house. But usually he ends up throwing them at her and tells her it’s therapy to defeat her fears.

Who kills the spiders around the house?  Neither, see above

Their favourite place?  A small lake behind a mountain near his cabin.

Who pays the bills?  The cult

Do they have any fears for their future?  Yeah, they are very conflicted about it. Neither of them know where it all leads and their differences (esp the age one) is an issue at times.

Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner?  They don’t really do that.

Who’s the tallest?  He’s 6'1, she is 5'2. He constantly calls her ‘Shorty’, not in any endearing cute nickname way, but purely to mock her height.

Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other?  Happens with both of them frequently. Tho Jacob is more prone to this because he showers less on his own. So when she’s in there he’s often like ‘might as well join’.

Who wanders around in their underwear?  Rheese starts this trend which he really doesn’t complain about. She also argues that it makes sense because then there will be less laundry to take care of. Can’t really argue with that really.

Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio?  She does, very very badly cause she can’t sing.

What do they tease each other about?  Her short height and his age. Always.

Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times?  Doesn’t really happen but he does judge her Power Rangers T-shirt she wears for sleeping.

Who crushed first?  They both kinda did. They blamed it on physical attraction at first, which made Rheese mad because he wasn’t her type. It takes them a couple of months to actually admit they might eventually possibly perhaps maybe have feelings for one another :)

Any alcohol or substance related problems?  Not really

Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am?  Rheese does once, and another time they do it together.

Who swears the most?  Jacob, though she’s pretty good at it too.

Tagging @joeyhxdson @fadedjacket @shallow-gravy @chazz-anova​ @ja-crispea​ if you want to. Idk who did this by the time this gets posted.

[strrawberrymoon]

name  /  alias : leigh  gender  /  pronouns : female + she/her where  ya  from  ? : europe 👀 the  current  time :  18:53 height :  164 cm, i think that’s 5′4 job  or  major :  double major in sociology and media communications, still grinding pet  (  s  ) :  two dogs! one is a 7 year old maltese and the other a 3 year old cane corso favorite  thing  (  s  )  about  yourself :  im a great listener and i give great advice, i’m straighforward which some people don’t like but oh well, i’m pretty adaptable. i got some nice titties any  special  talents  ? :  i can roll my tounge in any direction + crack a lot of knuckles ajkdshaj

why  you  joined  hqclouds :  i’ve been itchng to write more lately, so when love told me about their group i thought i’d give it a shot !!

meaning  behind  url :  strawberry moon was just a recent occurance irl which was really cool + i associate marinette with strawberries for some reason, and i’m a big fan of the lady moon

last  thing  you  googled :  i’m having some issues with my michrophone and zoom so i googled how to fix it, but no dice

birthday  /  zodiac :  leo ! my birthday is august 11th in  your  opinion  ,  does  your  sign  suit  you  ? : yes and no. leo’s are very misunderstood imo, but each sign has the “more popular” or well known traits and then there’s the flipside of the coin—which i think suits me more myers  -  briggs :  ISFP / INFP moral  alignment :  chaotic idiot hogwarts  house : gryffindor

three  fictional  character  (  s  )  you  see  yourself  in  +  why :  i honestly see myself in katara from atla, the whole smothering mothering routine. it’s becoming a regular thing for my friends to say “thanks, mom” or “ok, mom” so i guess i’m the mom friend. also fred weasly... he’s a twin.. i’m a twin... that’s all i need. and lastly, and very leastly, neil josten from all for the game series. most of you probably don’t know it, but he’s a demisexual chaotic idiot who says “i’m fine” way too much for someone who is most definitely not fine.

i  started  roleplaying : probably when i was around 16-17 was my first official roleplay experience. it was on facebook and kind of a nightmare types  of  rps  i  enjoy :  i like college stuff and small town rps, but i also love plot heavy rps that push you into developing your muse. really anything that isn’t too restricting favorite  fcs  to  use :  i don’t have go-to faceclaims. i tend to make a character around a FC and then use them until i lose muse or just feel like they need to rest. switch it up a lot, but some faces that i’ve really enjoyed playing for a longer amount of time are steven kelly, cindy mello and ellen v. lora fandom  (  s  )  you’d  like  to  write  in : i want to write in all of the fandoms i know nothing about and look like a dumbass. also harry potter, the hunger games, avatar the last airbender, gossip girl, etc etc fandom  (  s  )  you  aren’t  in  but  are  curious  about :  marvel somewhat, any video games are very fascinating to me even though i’m not a gamer + know nothing about them, any distopian kind of fandom re: hunger games

share  a  funny  roleplay  horror  story :  recently an admin of a twitter rp tried to use my male muse for their weird ship narrative. they tried to make him look like an asshole (& i do play assholes but this one wasn’t one) + used another male muse to make it seem as if these two boys were fighting over the person’s girl, even though she actually had a ship all lined up. they were also running the gossip twitter, so they made up a bunch of stuff about our muses without our consent and consequently i told them to fuck off, and both of us left the group. then she had no more “groupies” so she cuffed and the group closed two days later. it was petty hilarious.

fondest  roleplay  memory :  once in an OC group, i wasn’t “technically” doing a ship with a friend, even though the characters had feelings for each other. but for some reason the status of their relationship was a hot topic group wide, meaning everybody had their nose in it and wanting to know what’s up, so they publically kept doing things to make people think they’re together while denying it in the same breath. it was really fun to let it play out like that.

favorite  canon  muse  (  s  )  to  play : roy mustang from fullmetal alchemist, katara from atla, and my baby marinette favorite  original  muse  (  s  )  to  play : the last original character i played and fell in love with was named alex. im obsessed with him. still doing 1 x 1 with his girlfriend. they’re having a baby, it’s all very emo and domestic. maybe i make him relapse for funsies. canon  ships  you  can’t  help  but  love :  lupin x tonks from harry potter, korra x asami from legend of korra, danerys x daario naharis from game of thrones, katniss x peeta from the hunger games, etc... trope  (  s  )  you  tend  to  be  guilty  of : i use the rich kid douchebag stereotype a lot. i also make a lot of my characters addicted to something to make them struggle with that.

i  prefer  .  .  . angst  ,  smut  ,  or  fluff :  bro... i am a sucker for ansgt and smut. i do fluff on special ocassions >:) long  or  short  replies :  i prefer when they start out shorter, but medium is my fave pre  plotting  or  chemistry : chemistry all the way. plotting can be really fun but it’s a miss more often than a hit for me. plotting can be good for pre-established relationships but that’s about it sentence  starters  or  headcanon  memes : sentence starters single  muse  or  multimuse  blogs :  i’ve never done a multimuse blog, and i’ve actually been super against them in the past, but i’m starting to change my mind hehe gif  icons  ,  medium  gifs  ,  or  static  icons : static (or none honestly)

grab  the  book  nearest  to  you  and  pull  a  quote  from  it :  ❝ You were children. was there no one to protect you? ❞ — ❝ Was there no one to protect you? ❞

what’s  a  quote  or  song  lyric  that  speaks  to  your  soul  ? :  ❝ I loved her, and sometimes, she loved me too ❞ 

top  current  celebrity  crushes :  zendaya, margot robbie always last  movie  you  watched :  365 days (2020) did  you  like  it  ? :  i hated it, what a waste of a perfectly good 2 hours  favorite  movie  (  s  )    of  all  time : harry potter franchise makes me nostalgic, perks of being a wallflower, my sister’s keeper favorite  tv  show  (  s  )  of  all  time : for some reason i’m obsessed with grey’s anatomy but i hate it favorite  tv  show  that  hasn’t  ended : well fricking grey’s anatomy favorite  series  of  books  /  novels  /  comics : the hunger games, harry potter sports  team  (  s  )  you  rep : my friend is into sports i rep her ksdsdj favorite  video  game  (  s  ) : the sims. i like playing animal crossing vicariously through switch owners favorite  youtube  channels : don’t usually keep up with yt channels but i just binged some stuff from psychology in seattle hobbies :  procrastinating

what  are  the  three  non  essential  things  you’d  bring  to  a  deserted  island  ? : sunglasses, hairtie, hand cream

put  your  music  on  shuffle.  what  six  songs  pop  up  ? : 

say goodbye by skillet, 

off the grid by alina baraz & khalid, 

bury a friend by billie eilish, 

break up with your girlfriend by ariana grande

get back by nine lashes

marry you by bruno mars (man)

personal  aesthetic : growing out my hair only to always wear it in a bun dream  vacation  ? : i just wanna go to the seaside with my friends dream  job  ? :  i literally can’t stand capitalism. wanna move to italy and collect berries and draw titties all day dream  car  ? :  something that drives itself if  i  could  live  anywhere  ,  it’d  be : somewhere in canada near the woods favorite  musical : mama mia? counts favorite  food  (  s  ) :  bananaaaaas, ice cream, cereal. these are all foods ok coffee  order : i don’t drink coffee unwatched  stuff  in  your  netflix  /  hulu  /  etc :  13 reasons why (i’m too bored), the flash, outer banks, elite, the half of it, intersteller, locke & key aaand some stuff that’s not mine but someone else using my account

what’s  a  subject  you  know  too  much  about  +  never  get  tired  of  talking  about  ? : idk anything about anything askldhl

[mayaswollman]

TITLE: the plain woman. TRIGGER WARNINGS: abuse, domestic abuse, violence, injury, parental abuse, depression, and brief stalking.

Therapy was an exhausting crusade. It mainly consisted of Maya sitting inside a dusty old room with her sweet but cynical therapist. The room is filled with comfortable enough looking furniture and the lighting is a dim yellow-golden hue. Despite it being perfectly mediocre and not bad in the slightest, it makes Maya unreasonably angry. Though she knows it’s better to go than lie awake wishing she did. That sentiment might relate to almost everything in her life.

Maybe she should have known then. Maybe she should have known to trust her gut. Or maybe she should have known when she lost her charm bracelet.

The plain woman. The categorization falls into Maya’s lap, something she complains about often while spewing away in her therapy sessions. Most times, her words escape her, especially since she was still a tad new to the whole therapy thing. The plain, average woman. 

Do you feel special? Is what her therapist had asked originally, and Maya just exploded like a dying star. It resulted in tears and snot, excessive apologizing for said tears and snot, and bittersweet laughter to save face and not make a total fool of herself. 

Really, she was nothing special. Though perhaps that was a stupid insecurity. Never being the one but being a one regardless. That was truly something, a surefire way of making her feel more than terrible. Never the one, but one regardless. Maya says that too, her voice wavering like she has something crawling up her small throat, threatening to hop right from her mouth.

That’s how the session ends, Maya leaving with nothing but a relatively stable, reassured mind and a bucket of her own salty tears and gooey snot. It doesn’t help that she steps out into sticky, still air. Louisiana heat coming faster than she’d like. She looks to her wrist where she should be wearing a watch, like normal people, and thinks of what the might could be. Maybe past seven, but not before six. She drags her feet to her car, head low, dark curls falling in her face. 

Wrist.

The drive home is lackluster and nothing to report. So is stepping into her apartment. Though the cool air that hits her was a nice welcome, Maya inhaling deeply upon arrival, happy to just be home. She thinks to make herself something to eat before her phone buzzes, a notification popping up onto her screen.

If there was anything anyone needed to know about Maya Wollman, it was that she was a lazy person with commitment issues. Communication was certainly not where she shined, hence why most of her relationships were fickle ticking time bombs. It was only a matter of time before Maya became bored and over the whole idea of being someone else’s, despite growing lonely only days later. She’ll never reach out again, though, in fear of seeming desperate or ridiculous altogether. This cycle repeats itself more often than not. 

There’s this one guy who’s been kinda persistent, though. Nice looking, full beard, not huge but bulkier than most. He has the kind of face that’s neither plain or remarkable, somewhere in the middle. Maya would honestly put herself under that category too, so to her, he was just fine. In modern terms, you could say she ghosted him quite a while ago, unable to commit to anything but food and her work schedule. 

They went on one date. Maya doesn’t think of it very much, but he seems to think of it frequently. She likes to think they’re just casual friends now who went on one Tinder date that didn’t work out, really, and they text sometimes to say hello or for a brief chat. That was it. 

Truth be told, Maya likes being thought about. Remember that feeling of not wanting to seem desperate? Well here was the cold truth, she was. Desperate by all the means within her. Desperate for something, anything. Maya absentmindedly clicks through her phone before she gets to her text messages, reading the ones he’s sent. Her read receipts weren’t turned on, of course. Nobody with commitment issues had them turned on.

iMessage, 7:33PM, Matthew: Hey, was thinking about you. I saw you at The Dive recently with some friends and thought to say hi but didn’t. Hope you’re well! iMessage, 7:33PM, Matthew: Also, I think I have your bracelet? I found it on the ground at the bar and noticed it looked familiar. iMessage, 7:34PM, Matthew: [image:attatched].

Oh, fuck. Her charm bracelet, gifted from her grandparents when she was three or four. Maya’s hopeless romanticism kicks into high gear then as she sets down her bags and heads for her tiny living room. She plops down onto her couch, hands a little shaky, reading over the messages over and over. Then she looks to the photo. It’s definitely her bracelet staring back at her, the one real piece of jewelry she owns that she somehow lost at The Dive not too long ago.

The plain woman.

The thought, or insecurity, returns in no time. Are you going to be just one forever? Maybe he’s the one. Maya starts typing out a message, knowing there’s no going back now. 

iMessage, 7:40PM, Maya: Hey! You should have said hello! I can’t believe you somehow found my bracelet. I thought it was gone forever or a pack of angry criminals came and snuck it from my wrist, never to be seen again. iMessage, 7:40PM, Maya: Do you wanna meet up? Just to catch up and so I can get my bracelet back lol.

The exchange is simple. They text for a little while longer before deciding when and where to meet. Maya feels a little giddy inside, beginning to picture every scenario. She thinks from now to ten years from now, daydreaming endlessly about what could come of the two of them. A childish thing, really, and she knows it. But perhaps her loneliness had become futile.

ONE DAY LATER.

When it comes time for Maya to finally meet up with Matthew, her nerves finally bubble to the surface. She doesn’t even know how long she’s paced around her tiny apartment, going over every which way this could go wrong or right. It’s a game of back and forth inside her mind, every image flashing vividly and at a rapid pace. 

In classic Maya fashion, she gets ready with about two hours to spare. That was never a good thing, causing in the exploding of her own thoughts. By some miracle, the two hours go by and Maya is leaving her apartment, locking the door behind her securely. No going back now.

CALLIOPE, 8PM.

“Hi, sorry I’m late,” Maya says upon arrival, though she’s not actually late. Matthew had just shown up first. That’s never happened to her before. “Oh, you’re not late at all. Sit, they should be bringing the menus around now.” Matthew so politely pulls out her seat, which makes Maya’s entire face heat up, a reddened hue decorating her expression. She carefully takes a seat, smoothing the end of her dress. “Thank you,” She says quietly to the gesture, then smiling warmly to the waiter who places their menus down. 

It’s like a scene from a movie, really, how the evening pans out. They spent the night laughing and sharing stories, Maya finally settling into herself once she begins to feel comfortable. That was always when Maya shined. That was when she finally shed that outer layer she always sported, the one that dared to deem her an average woman. Maya Wollman was not plain or average, she was bright. She was funny and sweet and everything wonderful. Matthew seemed to like her too, head resting in his hands endearingly every time she went on about some silly little story from her youth. He laughs at all her jokes and even reaches out for her hand towards the end of the date, the pads of his fingers dancing across the tanned skin of her wrist. 

Wrist. Hand.

Touch was a strange thing in Maya’s world.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Matthew says, his touch pulling from Maya. She misses it the moment it’s gone though feels strange once it’s there. She touches her arm while Matthew plucks her charm bracelet from his pocket, sliding it to her. “Fuck, thank you so much. This is the only real piece of jewelry I own, so, I really appreciate this.” Maya’s tone returns to that middle ground, that nervous place that fears so much and so little at the same time. Matthew doesn’t seem to mind it, his smile still present, that same endearing look on his face. Maya tries to relax again. “No worries, sweetheart.” He says, brown eyes glued to her.

Maybe Maya should have known that things like this don’t really stick. Maybe she should have known when she got a phone call after an exhausting therapy session, one where she was vulnerable and unable to feel good about herself. But the night takes a quiet turn somewhere towards the end.

They’re walking out, Maya happy and at ease. Matthew is at her side, saying they should head to a bar and continue the night. Maya is more than happy to do this, despite being someone who prefers to call it a night rather early. Mainly from her own personal tiredness.

Maybe she should have known when he’s grabbing her a little too tight. Or maybe she should have known when he makes some crude remark about a guy across the way getting a look at her. It was just a small glance. I’m with you right now. Is what she said to reassure him, smiling sweetly. That giddiness seems to have fallen from his face like he’s flipped a switch. Though it returns in small ways, a little flicker of hope, and Maya clutches onto that hope like it’s her last chance at survival. 

Or maybe she should have known after the second date when he’s showing up at her job on a whim, asking her to take some time off and go away with him to New Orleans. Maya chuckles and says no. Sure, she was beginning to like him a lot, but not enough to go on some spur of the moment getaway. He seems upset by this, his jaw clenching. Maya sees a small vein bulge in his forehead as if he’s holding his breath. 

“Next time, I promise,” Maya says gently, resting a hand on his chest. She didn’t want him to be upset, despite her own discomfort. Matthew grabs at her arm, maybe a little too hard. But Maya was a small woman with petite features and he was much bigger than her. He just didn’t know his own strength. 

Wrist. Hand. Arm.

But maybe she should have known when he picks her up from a therapy appointment, pressing her about what she talked about. Maya isn’t comfortable with this, he tries to joke about it, wanting to know if she talked about him. She didn’t, which makes her feel guilty. Though she tells him no, not wanting to lie, and he becomes upset. Angry, even. Maya is confused, asking him why he’s so mad. They’re sitting in his car when he pulls his hand up and smacks her across the face, the sound and impact earning a ringing to erupt in Maya’s ears.

Wrist. Hand. Arm. Face.

Maya has been hit before. By her parents, by her siblings. But not like this. Never like this. Suddenly she’s back in her parents’ home, thinking back to every moment they’ve hurt her both physically and mentally. But then Matthew’s voice breaks through the noise. Or, his voice drills through it aggressively, tears running down his nice but not spectacular face. 

“Maya,” He cries, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just want to be a part of your life. I really, really like you. Maya, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Maybe Maya was a little weak. But was weak the word?

She forgives him. She cries along with him and they drive back to her place, a reddened spot on Maya’s face. It was going to bruise, she knows it. He probably does too. She stares at it in the mirror when she gets home, the smell of chicken and rice coming from the kitchen, Matthew was cooking for them. 

Maya had never tolerated violence from her parents? Despite always going back to them, she always fought back. What was so different now? She couldn’t quite figure that out but everything inside her turns to spoiled milk, her heart a paperweight inside her chest. Everything is warped.

It happens again while they’re out on another date. This might have been their tenth or eleventh, Maya was losing track. She was having a great time until Maya says she wants to get home, she had work in the morning. Matthew grabs her wrist a little too hard, this time causing a bruise. He says he wants to stay out and he wants to spend time with her. Apparently, he hasn’t seen her enough this week. 

Her charm bracelet dangles on her wrist, a reminder of the good deed he’s done. His grip leaves a bruise just under the jewelry. He lets go of her soon enough, spewing his apologies again, cooing to her. He missed her. This time, he says he might be falling for her. That sends a sudden signal through Maya’s mind. Was she the one?

She complies, smiling warmly. Her bracelet still dangles on her wrist.

Wrist. Hand. Arm. Face. Wrist. Wrist. Wrist. Wrist. Body. Heart.

[distant-rose]

Villains That Live in My Head (1/4)

Notes: I made a promise back in June to @effulgentcolors a story about dealing with intimacy and PTSD and I’m like two months late. Lyubi, I’m truthfully sorry for how late this is but admittedly, I’ve been struggling with this subject material because it’s not just PTSD, it’s violent PTSD episodes so we’re straddling a very thin line which could constitute as domestic violence, which naturally makes me  uneasy. However, I think it’s important to stress that the violence depicted in this story is not due to any sort of maliciousness but due to a violent PTSD episode and this story is about exploring how to deal with trauma and intimacy issues and get past such issues as a couple. This is some hard, heavy and upsetting stuff, but I’m trying to be as sensitive and tentative to the material as I can. I can’t stress enough that this isn’t going to be for everyone and to approach with caution because this is a story about violent PTSD and accidentally hurting your partner, and please read at your own risk. A special thank you to @initiala and @shireness-says for helping me struggle bus through this story. Summary: The wounds made when we're young tend to linger. It’s something Killian and Emma learn a little too well when a well meaning surprise goes terribly wrong.  Word Count: 3,300+ Rating: M

--

The truth is that Emma Swan has never had a real boyfriend, so to speak.

Sure, she was with Neal during her teenage years, but their relationship wasn’t necessarily conventional. Born out of loneliness and camaraderie, theirs was based mainly on survival, and survival doesn’t mean dinner dates in fancy restaurants or going to the movies. The most romantic thing he ever did for her was steal a family pack of pop tarts and some boxed wine when she turned sixteen and she thought it was the sweetest thing to ever happen. That had been the pinnacle of romance for her until “pick a partner who knows what he’s doing” and “ you traded your ship for me?”

She’s so out of her depth when it comes to being in a real relationship, but so far, it seems to be going great. Killian is attentive and generous with affection, which comes in a variety of forms from bringing her coffee every morning to playing with her hair. He listens to her when she de-stresses after work, plying her with alcohol and... not sympathy, necessarily, but empathy and an understanding that everyone else seems to lack. Everyone views her as the Savior, including her parents, but it’s nice to have someone who just sees her as Emma. 

And then there’s the sex. Which is another story altogether. 

It’s good, don’t get her wrong. He’s surprisingly sweet and very generous, with soft eyes and even softer touches. However, it’s also intimidating, because while Emma is the one-night-stand wonder, she wouldn’t call herself particularly knowledgable when it comes to sex. It’s mainly been insert Tab A into Slot B, repeat until satisfaction (and more often than not, no satisfaction - but that’s another story altogether). Such relationships didn’t necessarily lead to a lot of exploration or discovery. Quite simply, you don’t ask a complete stranger to help you discover your kinks unless you’re a serial killer or preternaturally uncomfortable in your own skin. Emma was neither of those things. So, her experience, while lengthy partner-wise, didn’t necessarily extend beyond what was considered relatively standard.

Killian, on the other hand seemed to have a fountain of knowledge and experience.

He didn’t necessarily brag about it to her per say -- aside from his rather outrageous innuendos -- but there was a certain sureness and innate knowledge that wasn’t something you could necessarily fake, and could only come from wealth of experience. While there had been some fumbling in the beginning (usually on her end), he was nowhere near as clueless as others had been on how to touch her. It had been more like watching someone relearn a path rather than discovering it for the first time. And while it’s been great to be with someone who didn’t need a road map to her clitoris, it was also a bit disconcerting to be someone who was, quite frankly, a lot more experienced than you. 

And even more mortifyingly, teaching you things about sex despite getting your v-card swiped more than a decade ago.

It makes her feel like she’s being trained a bit. And honestly, she kinda hates that.

She doesn’t like the fact that he seems to be leading her around a training ring like she’s some skittish horse and he’s some absurdly patient seasoned equestrian. It makes her feel foolish and, even worse, she can’t help but feel like she’s boring him. And the last thing she wants to bore him.

(Boring means getting left behind.)

She knows it’s irrational to think so, but there’s nothing Emma is more terrified of than being left alone again. Sure, she has her family, and her boyfriend literally gave up his home and his entire way of life to be with her, but that fear runs deep. No matter how many justifications her parents, Neal, or anyone else give her, that pain doesn’t just disappear.  

(In the spirit of Jake Peralta: cool motive, still abandonment.)

She isn’t sure that she’s in love with him. Considering the fact that her parents are the Olympic gold medalists of True Love, she’s more than a little gun shy when it comes to even broaching that subject. However, she knows she doesn’t want him to leave. She wants more than anything for him to stay.

And that’s how she reaches the decision to “spice” things up.

(And naturally, as it is with all situations where someone tries to perfect an already good thing, it blows up in her face. Spectacularly.)

She doesn’t remember how she settled on the idea of bondage, but it’s something she’s the most familiar with, and all kinky things considered, it seems pretty low level; exciting, but not as far out there as some of the other things she’s come across when perusing for ideas. She’s not looking to do anything Fifty Shades, but she thinks it might be fun to tie him up and make him the focal point for once. Killian always focuses on her, and it might benefit their relationship for things to be a little less one-sided when it comes to the bedroom.

Besides, Killian is a pretty adventurous guy, and a pirate to boot. She’s pretty certain he’s had more than a few nights of debauchery, featuring far more lewd acts than a little light bondage play. Hell, she wouldn’t be remotely surprised if he’s been involved in an orgy or two. He’ll probably find her plans as vanilla as everything else they’ve been doing.

(You know what they say when you assume. It makes an ass of you and me.) 

She doesn’t tell him her plans, mainly because she can’t imagine he would object and also because she wants to surprise him. After letting him take the lead in this aspect of their relationship, she wants to show him that what she lacks in experience, she can make up for with a willingness to explore new things. She wants to be on his level, not someone he needs to teach.

So, she doesn’t tell him. She just brings a box of condoms, a pair of cuffs and a smile.

It starts the way it always does - with a kiss that has them both swaying side-to-side until they teeter awkwardly backwards into his room. She chucks her bag on the nightstand, only to have it smack the table lamp and send both items to the floor. She can’t bring herself to care when she has Killian splayed out on the bed below her, pupils blown wide, lips bruised and noticeable tenting in his incredibly tight pants.

(Seriously, is he capable of wearing anything else? She might have to buy him a more relaxed fit, if only to help her sanity. While he doesn’t have much of an ass, they highlight the muscles in his thighs and make her eyes jump to places that aren’t necessarily appropriate for the public.)

And then there’s the hair.

She loves his hair and the way it’s starting to get a little longer and curl over his ears. She loves tugging on it and the noises he makes when she does. She leans forward, unable to resist threading her fingers through the dark strands as she tilts his head up for another kiss. He accepts it enthusiastically, a low pleased grumble emitting from the back of his throat as she gives his hair a playful tug. He pulls her into his lap, hips rolling upwards with impatience.

Clothes are shed gracelessly. It takes more than a few tries for her to unbutton his vest, cursing him for choosing such finicky clothing. It’s just so typical for him to pick style over functionality. He laughs at her impatience, eyes twinkling with amusement. She wants to rip the bloody thing off.

(Holy fuck, she’s starting to sound like him.)

“Why so impatient, love? We have all night,” he asks, chuckling as she finally manages to undo his buttons. 

She doesn’t respond immediately, more focused removing his hook from its brace and placing it on the nightstand. More articles of clothing have fallen victim to that hook than she cares to count, and she has such a limited wardrobe as is.

“Maybe I have plans,” she responds with what she hopes is a coy smile. 

Both of his eyebrows rise at this, a smirk spreading across his lips as he settles back on his elbows.  

“Plans?”

“Yes,” she says, running her fingers along the length of his collarbone. “Plans. Fun plans. And if you’re good, you might even find out what they are.” 

“I’m not sure I’m capable of being good,” he responds, leaning up and placing all too brief kisses along her jaw and neck. “But I promise you, you’ll certainly like it when I’m bad.” 

“We’ll have to see about that.”

She pulls him into another fierce kiss, using it to distract him as she reaches back to riffle through her bag for her cuffs. It gets a bit awkward, the angle not quite right, but Killian does his best to make it work. When she finally gets her prize, she makes a noise of triumph against his lips before pushing him back against the bed and reaching for his wrists. 

“Swan!” 

Killian’s eyes go wide with shock, growing even larger as he catches sight of the handcuffs. Emma expects it, but it doesn’t last long. His face contorts into a new expression, one that’s far from the enthusiasm. 

She doesn’t get much time to process it, however because the world turns suddenly on its axis. 

One minute she’s straddling his thighs, trying to handcuff him, and the next thing she knows, she’s on her back with Killian looming above her with his only hand pressed to her throat, and not in a way that’s remotely friendly. His fingers dig painfully as they press into her windpipe, cutting off her oxygen. Every muscle in his body is tensed and his chest keeps heaving as if he’s struggling to breathe. His eyes aren’t shocked; they’re panicked. 

They stare at each other for a few seconds, Emma still stunned by the turn of events while Killian looks more like a frightened animal than a person. Her lungs burn painfully and she chokes a bit as she tries to breathe. He jumps at the sound, his face changing from frightened to horrified. He pushes himself away from her forcefully, propelling his body until he’s precariously close to falling off the bed. He pulls himself into a sitting position and turns his back to her, fingers gripping the side of the bed as if holding on for dear life. Emma lays there, mind reeling, still stunned by the sudden turn of events. Her fingers move to touch where she can still feel the hard press of his palm. 

A million questions buzz in her head, each too fleeting for her to truly grasp but each more panicked and disturbed than the next. She doesn’t know what the hell just happened, but her pulse is thundering loudly in her ears and she has the same feeling of ice water in her veins that she did in the Clocktower when Gold was about to crush his heart.

Killian still has his back to her and while she can’t see his face, his shoulders are shaking, and she can still hear the harshness of his breath even over the chaotic orchestra her insides are playing.

“I…” The vowel sounds hoarse leaving his mouth. “I…I’m sorry…I…” 

He reaches for his clothes, pulling Emma away from the hornet’s nest in her head. She sits up, on instinct reaching out to him. He flinches and inches further away from her hand, which somehow hurts more than when he tried to choke her. A wounded noise emits from the back of her throat. He doesn’t acknowledge it. He picks up his shirt and pulls it over his head one-handed. It’s on backwards but he doesn’t seem to care.

“What the hell are you doing?” 

“I need to go,” he says shortly, not looking at her.

She opens her mouth to speak, but her words fall short. Emma doesn’t know what she wants to say. She knows she should say something, but what exactly, she doesn’t know. She still hasn’t processed what exactly happened.

Emma can still feel his hand on her throat.

(What the hell just happened?)

She’s still trying to answer that question, while Killian’s haphazardly pulling on his boots. She raises her hand again, but pulls it back. She wants to touch him, to do something, but she doesn’t know what to do and she can’t bear the sight of him pulling away from her again, like she’s something vile. 

Before she can even come to a course of action, the door slams shut. And she’s alone.

(Again.

She’s alone again.)

The thought leaves her feeling frozen, like she’s back in the ice prison again except this time she’s not surrounded by ice. It’s inside of her spreading over each and every one of her organs. She wraps her arms around herself in attempt at...warmth? Comfort? She isn’t sure anymore.

She isn’t sure of anything.

(What the hell just happened?)

One minute they were fine and about to have a good time, and the next thing he’s attacking her and then suddenly he can’t even look at her. All of it happened so fast that she’s still not quite sure what caused all of it. What the hell did she do?

She gets up, pins and needles shooting through her legs. They’re completely unhappy with her after sitting on the bed for so long. She doesn’t know how much time has passed, but she knows she needs to do something. Walking into the ensuite and turns on the light, she winces at the harsh intensity of the fluorescent bulb; sucking in a breath when she catches sight of herself in the mirror.

There’s an angry red ring around her throat.

She touches it again, this time more tentatively. The flesh is tender and a small hiss leaves her without her permission. Killian is long gone, but the phantom pain of his hand is still there. It had only been a few seconds but the feeling and the fear refuses to leave. 

Fear.

The realization hits her like whiplash. She had been afraid of him. He could have hurt her.

He did hurt her.

(Why?)

She doesn’t have any answers. She doesn’t know what she did for Killian to act like this, but he’s left her and she’s pretty certain he isn’t coming back. 

She hates the fact that hurts her more than the potential bruises.

Angry tears form at the corner of her eyes and she splashes water on her face to keep herself from seeing them. She glances at the clock, not necessarily because she’s interested in the time so much as she doesn’t want to see herself reflected in the mirror.

2:00.

Fuck.

She should leave. She hadn’t been planning on going back to the loft, but she knows she can’t stay here even if Killian doesn’t plan on coming back. She needs to get out of here and sleep somewhere else, where the imprint of his hand can’t follow her.

She pulls her hair into a messy, half-assed ponytail, not bothering it to smooth out the awkward bumps. Her limbs feel as heavy as lead as she puts on her clothes. She wants nothing more than to sleep, but she can’t. Not here.

The streets of Storybrooke are deathly silent as she walks back to the loft. It’s a cool night and the chill highlights the unnatural warmth pulsating from her neck. She pulls her jacket tighter around her. It has always been her shield from the world, but it’s protection was futile. What she needed protecting from had already gotten past her walls.

She can’t stop thinking about it, her brain like an old scratched DVD, playing the same scene over and over again in her mind. She can’t help but relive that moment when he was above her and she couldn’t breathe. She still remembers the look on his face; eyes wide, nostrils flaring and cheeks white. It hadn’t been anger on his face.

It had been fear.

What the hell did he have to be afraid of? He wasn’t the one with the hand on his throat.

Why did he do that?

Why did he leave?

The questions swirl around in her mind as she attempts to unlock the front door of their building. It takes her an embarrassing three tries to open it, but when she finally did, a sense of relief came over her. She’s home and she can sleep.

She’s so tired.

The door to the loft groans as she opens it, sounding unnaturally loud in the stillness of the night. The noise wakes the baby, his wails as ear-piercing as thunder. She can hear her parents waking up behind their curtain. 

She can’t face them. 

Not right now. 

Not after everything that happened with Killian.

She races across the room instead, making her way up the stairs. Her hands tremble as she clings to the bannister like it’s a life line, each ascending step feeling heavier and more precarious than the last.

It’s a relief when she finally reaches her bed and crawls underneath her covers, pulling them over her head in an attempt to cocoon herself away from the world. She wants to escape, to find some peace and quiet. Unfortunately, Little Neal doesn’t seem to want adhere that desire. His screams keep getting louder and louder.

“That’s a mood if I ever heard one,” she mumbles, burying her face in her pillow.

Her mother’s soothing voice sounds throughout the apartment as she attempts to lull Neal back to sleep. Slowly, the cries quiet down and the growing silence echoes inside of her. It’s then that the anger gives away to immeasurable sadness, tears dribbling at the corners of her eyes and leaking down her cheeks.

Once again, she’s alone and no one wants her. Not her parents. Not her brother. And especially not her pirate boyfriend, if he’s even her boyfriend anymore. She’s not so sure.  

(What the hell happened?)

It’s frustrating to be in this position again, hurt and confused as to why. She should have known it wasn’t going to work. She’s never been in a healthy and real relationship before and it was silly of her to think otherwise. She should have known it would blow up in her face.

(But why?)

(Why?)

(Why?)

It’s the question on her mind keeps playing over and over in her mind as she falls into a fitful slumber, hoping against hope that sleep will bring some clarity.

It doesn’t.