#let's all agree never to be creative again

[pompomussss]

TW: mild gore (it’s not too bad but still)

There once was a boy who would stare and stare at someone he seemed to care.

He would stare at him for hours but never said why until his eyes became quite dry.

All that for his affection ? What work! What dedication!

Those eyes surely deserved a little vacation.

Inspired by the girl who stared by Tim Burton

[goforglory]

.

Archer vc: it's not weird to have fantasies about your friend pulling you closer by your hips and kissing and biting your neck and intoxicating you with sensation. Shut up.

Please define what the hell your relationship with him, is I am begging you sir

[dachbodenfund]

Let’s all agree to never be creative again

currently going viral on facebook

Their Friends

[leaawrites]

Dreams of forbidden territory

Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: one dream and feelings will be spilled from both sides.

Warnings: Sexual content (really minimum but still, 18+, mdni), sexual reference, Best Friend's sister, reader is insecure of her legs, this is probably the smuttiest I'll ever write.

Wordcount: 3.3k

Masterlist

His teeth scraped down her hips. His hands were placed on her waist, holding her down. Low humming sounds vibrating on her skin making her moan in the quiet. He looked up at her, squeezing her flesh under his hands in disapproval.

“Gotta keep quiet, princess,” he told her, tatting her at her behavior. “Can’t have him find out.”

The scene replayed on her mind ever since she woke up from it. Trying to wrap her mind around who he meant - who wasn’t supposed to find out? - but then it hit her. Max, her brother. He couldn’t find out she had a sex dream about his best friend. The best friend who was now sat opposite her, eating his breakfast in peace. He noticed her staring but he ignored it, thinking she was annoyed at him again.

Truth been told, she was. If there was anything that made her annoyed at him was that nothing after that sequence she saw happened. When she tried falling asleep again, it didn’t work. She couldn’t escape into the dream again. Not even her own creativity was capable to figure out how it would’ve ended. She didn’t know what he was like, she also couldn’t make up her mind as to what he might be like.

“You’ve got a staring problem or something?” Lando asked, making her snap out of her trance.

Blinking at him before muttering a soft ‘sorry’ and going back to her own food. He looked at her confused, normally she would roll her eyes and say something in a sarcastic manner to him. But not today, and not until the end of the week.

It was always just him catching her staring at him or somewhere in the room for a long time, then she would say sorry and act like he caught her in an embarrassing situation. Like she smashed a plate that he considered his favourite or like she accidentally was the reason for one of his races failing.

Even Max noticed, asking Lando about it but he couldn’t give him more of an answer than, “I don’t know, mate. Maybe she just needs some time. Let her be.” They agreed ro wait until Sunday to ask her, both convinced that she would act normal by then. But the time they gave her was up and she still avoided him.most of the time.

The image was printed in her mind, never leaving her alone. He was always there, whether it be physically or in her daydreams. She saw them together everywhere. Not just fucking but also cuddling, sharing kisses, joking around together. She watched him from her seat around the pool. Watched his arms move smoothly through the water, but all she could think about them in the water together. Laughing and play fighting.

Max sat down next to her, without her noticing, observing her staring at Lando. A few other friends sat around the pool as well and more than enough times, Lando’s swimming session was stopped by one of the talking to him. He answered while swimming until even his stamina was used up and he leaned against the edge of the pool to talk to them.

“You’re not being very subtle,” Max commented, making her jump in surprise at his sudden appearance. She really didn’t notice him sitting down next to her.

“What are you talking about?” She asked, her face looking back towards the book in her lap, though her eyes still slipped up towards the man in the water now and then. Her lips pulling themselves up as he laughed. The sound ringing through the air, finding it’s way to her heart once again.

“You like him, clearly.” Max looked away from her towards Lando, seeing the boys own eyes falling onto his sister as he climbed out of the pool and sat down next to a friend. “Tell him.”

The girl’s mouth flew open in shock at the suggestion. “Definitely not.”

“Why not?” Max continued asking, nudging her arm with his elbow.

The girl was silent for a moment. Why not? It was a simple question, which required a simple answer. “He most likely doesn’t like me back.”

“You don’t know that.” He knew, trying to get your sister and your best friend dating wasn’t the ideal plan for him, but he knew Lando and even though the boy was reckless most times and a playboy to say the least, he also saw the side of him that was caring and kind and loving. He knew him longer than anyone and he knew that Lando cared for his sister. Even without asking he would know, simply from the way he spoke to her and the way he looked at her. But none of the two would say anything. They were playing it safe and Max finally had enough.

“Alright,” he finally answered, shrugging and standing up. Walking over towards Lando and his other friend, joining their conversation.

Why not?

The day was nearing an end, the sun setting over the Portuguese landscape. A orange pink sky forming above her. Y/n watched the sky as it changed colors, she watched them appear and fade. She watched them reemerge and wished she could be as pretty as the sky. Whether it was day or night - rainy or sunny - it always looked pretty.

A knock was heard outside the door and she though about sending whoever was stood there away, but she knew she couldn’t. May made plans for a restaurant and they were probably already waiting for her.

Stepping back inside the room, Y/n saw Lando leaning against the door frame, watching her. She moved her head to the side, asking him what he was doing here in silence. It had always been like this. They would communicate without talking, always knowing what the other was saying.

“Max told me to call you down,” he explained. They were in fact running a bit behind schedule, but Lando didn’t seemed faced by it.

“OK, tell him I’ll be right there,” she said, walking over to the mirror, expecting him to go, and flattening out the long flowy skirt she chose.

He was still watching her.

“Why are you always wearing long skirts?” Lando asked all of a sudden.

She locked eyes with him through the mirror, furrowing her eyebrows in need of an explanation to his question. Which he gladly gave, truly interested.

“I mean, even at the beach you wear a long cover up. And when we go out you always wear long pants or skirts or dresses. Why don’t you wear a pair of shorts or a short skirt when it’s half burning outside?” He asked, taking a step closer to her.

Y/n frowned. She owned shorts and short dresses and skirts but she never thought they looked good. Was he implying the long looked good neither? Did nothing look good on her? Is that what he was saying?

Lando could see the thoughts entering her brain. The bad ones. The ones that made him want to love her even more.

Walking behind her, Lando put his hands on the fabric of her skirt, taking as much of it in his hands as he could and making it shorter with every second, until he reached her upper thighs. Holding it there, he looked at her now exposed legs. If he pulled it even higher he was sure he could get a glimpse of her underwear, but he wouldn’t do that. Not without knowing how she would feel about it first.

“It’s looking good,” he whispered, before letting the fabric fall again and stepping back from her. What he wouldn’t do to show her just how beautiful she truly was. What he wouldn’t do to make her see herself the way he sees her. If it wasn’t for Max she would already be his. But Lando knew, that if he made a move Max would surely make sure they would never see each other again. He didn’t want that. So, he sat quietly, watching from the sidelines when he met her in a club or they were out in the same friend group, flirting with other guys that couldn’t even treat her half as good as he could.

For a moment she couldn’t believe she was alive, breathing. Her mind stopped functioning the moment he stood behind her, his hands on her legs for a second before exposing her legs. Looking at the closet in her room and remembering the one short piece she brought to the trip. She would wear that sometime probably now, making sure he was there to see. But now they had to go.

Both appearing together at the bottom of the steps, Max rolled his eyes at the pair. “What have you been doing there so long?” He asked, receiving a smirk from Lando in return, but he knew nothing happened. At least nothing too sexual. Y/n hid her face from Max, still blushing at the simple touch from Lando.

“Ready to eat?” Pietra asked from the door, Max’s car keys dangling in between her fingers. The others already drove to the restaurant, making sure their reservation wouldn’t blow off. Leaving the four to arrive later. With Max driving, Pietra normally sat in the front though now, she climbed in the backseat, pulling Y/n with her, much to Lando’s demise.

On the way to the place, Pietra opened the notes app on her phone titling the new file: Wtf happened in your room?

Handing it over to the girl, Y/n looked at her with a smile at first, deciding whether she should tell her or not, but eventually she gave in, writing every detail down. From the leaning against the door frame and the staring to the words he spoke. She told her everything. And she watched while Pietra read it, slower than she hoped, her mouth wide open in shock by the end of it.

Quickly she tipped something back. Handing the phone over again, Y/n read: Holy shitttttttt. That boy’s in love with you, I swear. Make sure to remind me to buy you more short pieces.

Y/n rolled her eyes, giving the phone back and turning away from the blonde, looking out the window.

The place was nice. Filled completely. No table was empty and when Max said his name to the girl at the entrance, she made a move for them to follow her. It was also minimal spacious, making them all walk in a line behind each other. Lando’s hand almost immediately made it’s way towards her back whenever they walked past a group of guys or a tight space. It was almost a regular touch for them, but ever since that night she couldn’t think straight. And a once innocent touch now made her mind wander to different things. Like how he would push her body down at the same place on her back while he fucked her from behind.

Quickly blinking the thoughts away, she didn’t even notice that they arrived at the table, or how Lando caught her snapping out of something, looking uncomfortable all of a sudden.

“You okay?” He asked, leaning closer to her ear in order for the others not to hear. Although they were focused on their own conversation, you never knew when someone was eavesdropping.

The girl jumped slightly at his voice so near to her ear, his breath grazing her skin softly. It was warm against her cold flesh.

She nodded, avoiding his eyes. She didn’t want to know which thoughts would enter her mind while looking into his eyes.

Lando furrowed his eyebrows, she was still avoiding him the way she did most of the week now. It made him almost furious. Why wouldn’t she look at him? Did he do something wrong? Was it something he said? Placing his hand on her thigh he tried to get her attention back, but she wouldn’t give it to him. Shuffling a bit away from him to let him know he better take his hand away from her. Which he did. But not without even more questions on his mind. What the fuck was that about now?

For the whole evening, Y/n avoided Lando, conversing with people longer than him that she didn’t even know half as good as him.

Pietra watched them, as did Max, and both looked at each other, knowing something was definitely wrong. But what was it?

“Hey Y/n?” Pietra called over the table, catching the girls attention, as well as Lando’s. “What do you say, I give you 10 pounds of you take one of the guys over there on the table home.” She pointed towards one of the tables to their right.

A group of young, fairly attractive men sat there. One was turning towards their table almost every second, looking at her. Everyone at their table looked at her expectantly, waiting for an answer. But not Lando. He had his gaze fixed on the table, especially the dude staring at her. His girl. But not really. It was his fault she wasn’t his, so who was he to say something against a bet? It was just a bet, he tried to calm himself down, nothing else. Just a bet.

She wanted to say yes, to take one of them home and make her forget for even just one night. But then she felt his hand against her leg again. Not because he placed it there on purpose, but because it simply slipped there. Before he noticed himself, she felt his hand almost trembling against her leg. Apologizing as he noticed, pulling it back immediately. Would it be a normal night he would’ve let it sit there. Though nothing seemed normal anymore. At least not until they got back from this vacation. Lando would go back to traveling the world, barely thinking of her other than when Max mentioned her once or maybe even twice. Y/n would go back to her own job, her own place. Her own life. Should she really accept P’s offer?

“Not for 10 pounds, babe,” Y/n answered, making Pietra scoff at her behavior. Looking over at Lando’s hand, laying in his lap, she saw it stopped shaking. And she saw him inhale deeply like he held his breath for the last seconds. This wasn’t all because of the possibility of her going home with someone else, was it?

As they finished up and payed all their part, Lando made his way towards Max’s car, with Max hanging from his shoulder, drunk. Y/n couldn’t believe he got drunk that quick. Laughing whenever he tripped over his own feet, almost taking Lando down with him.

“Stop laughing,” Lando told her, but she didn’t. She simply couldn’t. “Open the door,” he ordered to her, standing in front of the back seat door.

“Yes, sir,” she said in a jokingly manner.

Unlocking the car and opening the door, she heard him mutter: “Fuck, don’t say that when your brother’s here.”

She stopped moving for a second, before continuing opening the door and quickly climbing in the passenger seat, praying Pietra was the one driving. But when the blonde opened the other back seat door, Y/n knew she was fucked. Lando climbed into the driver seat and started the car, not acknowledging what he said, praying she didn’t hear him.

But she did. And God, how clear it was in her ears.

They drove back home, embracing the evening air. Low music was coming from the stereo, Y/n’s Spotify playlist she made for Lando and herself years ago. Mostly Taylor Swift, but also some other pieces. Humming the melody to every song and singing a few lines every now and then until they arrived.

Lando stared at her in awe whenever he heard her voice, and though she didn’t notice, Pietra clearly did. Sending him a smirk when he looked in the rear view. He sighed quietly, he was down bad. For someone he shouldn’t like more than his best friend’s little sister.

Getting Max into bed was a horror. Pietra was already somewhat of a pro in it, though she still appreciated the help she received from the other two. Telling them goodnight before shoeing the pair out in the quiet, dark hallway.

“I’m gonna go to bed now,” Y/n said, pointing towards her room and start walking. Ignoring his gaze once again. Closing the door behind her.

Before Lando could stop himself, or even think about what he was doing, he followed her steps. Opening the door and stepping into the room. He didn’t think of the possibility of her already undressing herself, getting ready for bed, until he saw her, standing with her back towards him in only her shirt and panties. A black lace garment.

“Fuck,” he breathed out at the sight of her.

Y/n turned around, her eyes wide, backing away from him, but he already saw what she tried to hide. He was staring at her legs.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Lando,” the girl said, turning around again. Her face hot. She couldn’t face him now, not like this. “What are you doing here? You know there’s something called knocking,” she lectured him, making him chuckle.

“I’m not mad about it.” Fuck it, he thought, if this was it now, at least he saw her how he always desired to see her.

“What?” She asked, turning her head around to look at him, trying to catch his eyes, but she wasn’t able to. His eyes were definitely not fixed on the back of her head.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” He blurted out, only now remembering what he came for.

“I’m not avoiding you,” she defended herself, knowing that wasn’t the truth. She didn’t want to, but she had to.

“Darling, don’t act like I’m stupid,” he told her. Her bottom lip slipping between her teeth at the nickname, her eyes closing for a second.

What did she have to lose now? He stood in her bedroom with her half naked, staring at her ass without much shyness. There had to be something in his feelings towards her, right?

“I had a dream,” she confessed, looking at the wall.

“What did you dream?” He asked absentmindedly.

“Your teeth were moving down my hips,” she said, making him close his eyes to see the image she painted in front of his eyes. “And you told me to keep quiet.”

“Why did I tell you that? Would wanna hear your pretty sounds every day.” There was no room for any form of uncomfortably now between them. They were simply honest and needy.

“Because of Max.” At his mention Lando’s eyes opened again. Right, that’s why he usually overthought everything with her.

The silence was deafening and she knew that that was the wrong thing to say in that moment. She was sure she was back to being little Y/n, the sister of his best friend. Nothing more.

His hands found her waist, pulling her closer. Y/n gasped at the contact, holding her breath. His lips were traveling down her neck. She moved her head to give him more skin to cherish.

“If you don’t say anything, I won’t too,” he told her, turning her to press their fronts together. His pinky sticking in front of her face for her to take. She did. Taking his hand in hers after that and putting two of his fingers into her mouth, sucking on them slowly, making him groan in pleasure.

“I’ll treat you so nice, I promise,” Lando whispered, before taking his fingers from her mouth and capturing her lips with his. Walking backwards and letting them sink on the mattress slowly.

[ghoulbrain]

The Cost of Flesh

18+ 4.9k the ghoul x f!reader. gif credit. dirty talk, vaginal fingering, clothed/naked, finger sucking, grinding on a cowboy boot, cooper's busted anatomy forces him to get creative, body worship, lightly established dynamic, surprisingly sentimental. a prompt from @tearueful that got wildly out of hand. thank you, friend! 🖤

When what starts off as a purely sexual arrangement with the Waste's most notorious bounty hunter–the ghoul–gradually grows into a living, breathing love, you're both forced to confront the inevitable humanity that comes with sharing your body with another.

There’s a living myth that walks the wastes, a figure known exclusively as the ghoul. He’s enigmatic, a force of nature that declares himself to the world with his every step. If you're unaware of sharing a room with him, it’s likely because he’s hunting you, in which case it’s not a matter of if he catches you, but when.

Naturally, it was the talk of the town when he made a regular haunt out of the saloon you worked in.

He watched you serve drinks all evening, his gaze a physical thing upon you. Normally you expected a degree of harassment from clientele, raiders and the like often rolling through, but it was as though everyone else sensed his attention on you as much as you did. You could tell from the tilted angle of the wide brim of his hat when he was listening to your conversations.

It was as eerie as it was intriguing. You couldn’t fathom a bounty on your head, so what did he want?

You would soon be ensnared by him, but not for a bounty. It was for pleasure. Your pleasure.

“Come upstairs with me,” He murmured in your ear, standing close behind you, a gloved knuckle rolling up your spine. “Y’ain’t gatta do nothin’. I won’t hurt’cha none. Just wanna hear a pretty bird sing.”

You shivered, caught unaware. You never even heard his approach, even though the din of the bar had quieted in the late evening.

“I’m not for sale,” you replied, testing the water. He was close enough that you felt him, but not so close you were pinned. You could move if you wanted to.

“I ain’t buyin’,” he gave back. You could feel the heat of his breath on your neck. “But I’ll make it worth y’while.”

The gravel grit of his voice was nearly drowned out by the drumming of your own pulse in your ears. To this day, you don’t know what possessed you to agree, but you did. He took your hand in his, the leather of his glove soft with wear, and led you away from the bar. The next thing you knew, he was stripping you bare in one of the dark rooms above the bar.

The ceremony with which he undressed you had felt disconcertingly like meal prep. He tied your hands above your head, and your heart thundered with the understanding that there was nothing to stop him from devouring you alive where you lay sprawled out on the bed. 

By the time his gloved hands were dragging away your underwear, you felt dizzy with the heady mix of arousal and fear, an unquiet ache thrumming between your thighs. Your only meager assurance was that of all the legends you’d heard of the ghoul, seducing and eating barmaids wasn’t among them. 

And yet devour you he did. You were hooked from that very first wet, hot slide of his tongue against your clit. He spent hours with you that night, mapping your body with his tongue, your scars and blemishes serving as waypoints and constellations. He nipped and sucked until dark marks blossomed under his tongue, and he relished those spots more than any other.

He never took off more than his gloves, and he never let you touch him. He never fucked you. He brought you to climax with his mouth and his hands so many times you lost track of the number. All you could do was writhe and moan your pleasure. He didn’t stop until those moans turned to sobs, until you begged him to. After that, he cut your binds loose and left you a mess on the bed, aching and used. 

You laid there for a long time, thinking you would never see him again.

The ghoul returned not a week later. 

He wasn’t subtle about what he wanted from you, beckoning you from across the bar with a crook of two fingers. You felt your knees weaken with the memory of those same fingers in your mouth, your cunt, that hand pinning you by your throat to feel your cries against his palm. He stared at you from beneath the brim of his hat, cocked his head. You nodded, and his eyes flashed.

Hungry.

You didn’t learn his name until your third encounter. He whispered it in your ear.

“Now scream it for me, sweetheart.”

You did.

The two of you would meet several more times. He would stay a little longer after each session, and bit by bit, you would come to understand the man beyond the ghoul. He doesn’t talk about himself, and he doesn’t ask anything of your life in turn, but he reveals himself in pieces nonetheless. Beneath the ruthless pragmatism of his legendary persona, you find the manners of a shockingly tender gentleman lurking.

He’s always unhurried in disrobing you, devoted to the task at hand: taking you apart piece by piece. He treats each article of frayed clothing like a piece of paper that might tear if he pulls too hard. He makes the process of being undressed in and of itself feel like sex, every move intentionally sensual. 

For you, the experience ranges from thrilling to maddening depending on your mood that day. He never heeds you, always keen to take his time regardless of your impatience. He takes a particular kind of enjoyment in your body, the likes of which you’ve never known. You’re certain he knows it better than you do at this point, and yet he’s never laid himself bare to you. Never let you bring him the kind of pleasure he brings you.

He’s never kissed you.

“Please. I wanna touch you, too,” you tell breathlessly, knelt between his legs, naked as sin. His focus breaks, gaze snapping to yours. You lick your lips, relishing the rare feeling of catching him off guard. You slide your hands up his thighs, inching towards his groin. “Taste you. Make you twist. When’re you gonna let me, huh?”

He catches your wrists as quickly as a viper strikes, holding you still for a long, tense moment. You hold his gaze without any of the fear or reservation you’d felt that first day. 

Despite the warmth that’s grown between you in the time since that first night, you’re uncertain of what exactly the two of you are now. It would be romantic to think of this feeling in your chest as love. Certainly it is intimacy. Familiarity. What is love if not consistency? Perhaps it’s like masonry. Steel against stone, and the conscious choice to change something as immutable as solid rock.

For as long as he chooses to come back to you, to find his pleasure in you, is that not love? If it isn’t, it might just be the closest you’ve ever come to it.

Dumbstruck for a moment by the tenderness in your gaze, Cooper’s own drops to your hand, lifting it to his mouth. His grip is tight, but not painful. As he does with everything else, he takes his time answering.

“Won’t do much good, darlin’,” he says, folding your hands wrist over wrist. You perk up. He’s never given a proper explanation for why he seems to have no interest in your reciprocation. From his belt, he withdraws a length of rope and begins encircling your wrists. You allow it, the ritual a familiar one. “Plumbing’s long busted, but that don’t mean I don’t enjoy myself. Enjoy you.”

Like the final piece of a puzzle falling in place, understanding dawns. His initial use of you drops perfectly into context. It was like you were more an object to him than a person, a vessel for him to exact sensation upon. You understand now that that’s exactly what you were. Be it the radiation or the myriad of drugs he takes to keep the degeneration at bay, it’s likely just one more piece of him the Wasteland has stolen.

“Oh.”

“Disappointed?” He asks, fastening the rope with a sharp tug that shoots a hot throb between your thighs. If he’s apprehensive about your answer, he hides it well. If they still made movies, he’d make for a fine actor.

You pause, giving the question the thought it deserves. “Not exactly. Maybe a bit,” you say, struggling to articulate the feeling. “Kind of relieved, though. I didn’t know if you couldn’t, or just didn’t want to,” you admit, leaning into it when he brings his palm to the side of your face. Your lips part automatically for the brush of his thumb along them. “I just want to do more.”

Cooper’s gaze softens, the line of his mouth twitching in what almost looks like a smile before it’s tampered by a profound sense of sadness. However, it disappears as quickly as the smile that nearly was. His expression smooths back out into controlled focus.

“So do more,” he says in that molasses drawl, thick and sweet. It could be your imagination, but his voice sounds warmer than it did a moment ago. “Put on a show for me.” He widens the spread of your legs with the press of his boot to your inner thigh. “I got plenty ‘a things for you t’ride.”

He lifts the worn leather to the wet heat gathering between your thighs and you shudder, lashes fluttering. His boot sinks back to the ground and you follow it, grinding down against the leather with a soft sigh of pleasure. He hooks his fingers through the tether around your wrists and draws you forward by it, his knee pressing between your breasts, your bound hands resting on his thigh.

“Don’t take much t’get you moanin’, do it, sweetie?” He baits, mouth curved in a crooked smile. You roll your hips with a soft keen, shaking your head. You were already tingling all over from the slow way he’d undressed you, and now that ache is growing rapidly into thrumming need. He whistles lowly. “All that noise for a li’l friction.”

He bucks his boot against your cunt, wringing a cry out of you. You screw your eyes shut, clutching at his pant leg while you roll your hips, embarrassed by how right he is. Everything he does is electrifying, and his honied voice in your ears helps turn the curve of his boot into the most exquisite touch you’ve ever known.

With his teeth, Cooper tugs off his glove and touches your cheek with warm, rough fingers. His bare thumb hooks your bottom lip, easing it open until you taste the salt of his skin pressing down on your tongue. “Or just didn’t want to…” He echoes through a frayed laugh, sounding equal parts amused and wistful at your words on his tongue. “Y’got no idea what I’d do to this sweet mouth if I could.” He presses his thumb deeper, watching with dark eyes as you start to suck. “What I’d give t’see how pretty you cry, chokin’ on my cock.”

He paints such a pretty picture that you long for it, too. Releasing his thumb with a breathy sound, you open your mouth. “More,” you say, your breaths shallow. “I want more.”

His own chest is heaving with each breath, his tongue caught between his teeth. He slips two fingers into your mouth, pushing them all the way to the knuckle. You both moan with it, pressure creeping slowly up your spine. He rocks his fingers in and out, and you start to match his pace, grinding against his boot as fast as his fingers fuck your mouth. 

Catching on, he kicks his pace up a notch, captivated by the pull of your lips, the shimmer of your saliva on his weathered skin. You can see it in his eyes, how he loses himself in your pleasure as if it’s his own, filling in the gaps with faded memories. He pushes in a third finger, teeth raking over his bottom lip. You push your tongue between them, over them, sucking and lapping as if it really is his cock in your mouth. 

“Fuck, darlin’,” he hisses, pulling sharply on your bindings. You make a noise around his fingers, so close to the peak of release that your lungs begin to seize, throat quieting. It’s pure agony when Cooper abruptly hauls you up onto your knees, halting your ascension. “C’mere,” he growls, all grit and throaty need. His fingers slip from your mouth and he manhandles you up into his lap, bringing you into a straddle over him, your bound wrists thrown over the back of his neck.

The same fingers he had halfway down your throat now move between your thighs, pressing into your slick, yielding body with two wet fingers in one deep push. You groan, the burning ache of it so good your eyes roll back. His free hand skirts up the length of your torso to the underside of your breast, kneading soft flesh with a rough hand. Then, so quick all you can do is gasp, he pushes the weight of it upward, meeting pearl-soft skin with lips, tongue and teeth.

All the while his fingers sink deeper, moving faster. He adds a third and you strain against your binds, arching your back, pressing your chest into his hungry mouth. He scissors his fingers, determined to make you feel every inch he fills you with.

“C-Cooper…” You keen, shivering for the hot slide of his tongue over your nipple, how he sucks it into his mouth.

Pulling off with a wet pop, he drags his tongue up the line between your breasts, greedy for the taste of you. “Shh, shh,” he hushes, already teasing a fourth finger. His breath is hot on your damp skin. “Just a little more, you can take it,” he says, pressing his thumb to your clit, rubbing circles to soothe the burn of being filled so suddenly.

“I can’t, I can’t,” you protest, nails biting into your own hands, eyes screwed shut.

“Y’already there, sugar,” he rumbles, each word rougher than the last. He’s right, you’re seated in the crook between his thumb and index finger, so full of him that your thighs are trembling from the strain of it. He rocks his hand slowly, fucking you deep, crooking his fingers until a sharp jolt of pleasure makes you shudder. “Doin’ good, takin’ everything I give you. That’s it. Go on, pretty bird. Sing me a song.”

Your eyes meet, both bleary and wild. You could lose yourself in the darkness of his gaze, and given his insatiable hunger, you know he would swallow you whole. You moan for him, sing his praise with the breathlessness of your voice, with the sway of your hips as you pick up his rhythm. He nods absently, watching you with such voracious wonder, you feel beyond yourself. Half human, half embodiment of pleasure. 

The meteoric rise back to the cusp of your climax feels like flying, your stomach tightening, the velvet walls of your cunt throbbing and squeezing his fingers so tightly, you feel their every slide.

You come hard on his fingers, crying out just before the height of your pleasure seizes you. Cooper watches every second of your release, his own lids flickering, though he never blinks. He slips his arm around your body and pulls you to him, naked skin pressed snug against leather and tattered fabric. You collapse into him, held up only by his grip and the tether binding your hands around his neck.

He holds you through the aftermath, savors every last wet quiver of your cunt around his fingers. His thrusts slow, but he doesn’t stop until–in a quaking breath–you beg him to. His fingers settle in deep, lingering a moment before he slides them free. The relief of escape from overstimulation is rivaled only by the awful emptiness that his fingers leave in you. You clench your shaking thighs on either side of him so that he might understand.

Stay.

Either he understands, or he simply isn’t through with you. His gloved hand slides up and down your back, thumb brushing the back of your neck on every upward swipe. Before long you hear a decidedly wet slurp, and you lift your head from his shoulder to look at him through euphoria addled eyes.

One by one, Cooper licks every one of his slick fingers clean, purring his approval. “Not even decades of radiation poisoning can erase the taste of good pussy,” he says, voice low and lazy. “And this, darlin'? Gourmet."

You smile, heat rushing up your chest to your cheeks. “I think you have an addiction,” you say, a slight slur to your words. You roll your fingers, which tingle faintly, the rope taking its toll on your circulation.

He clicks his tongue, hands settling on your hips. His hands are warm, and his touch erupts goosebumps up your spine. “Y’say that like it’s a problem. Gonna cut me off?”

“As your dealer, it’s in my best interest to encourage said addiction,” you say, cocking your head. Up close like this, focused only on each other’s eyes, it’s easy to forget he’s anything other than a man. His eyes are beautiful, the color of sand in that fleeting hour of sunset that turns the whole world gold. Not even the hole left from the decay of his nose takes away from the beauty of them. Truth be told, you find the whole of him entirely too handsome. “Besides, I find myself similarly afflicted.”

His lips split into a slow smile. “Y’somethin’ rare, darlin’. Fine company’s scarcer than clean water these days.”

Another wave of heat washes through you, but this time it concentrates in your chest, coiling around your heart and squeezing. “You’re just not used to talking to people who know how to read,” you say, trying and failing to swallow back the sentimentality swelling in your throat.

He chuckles. It’s a rare sound, one that does nothing for the growing affection suffocating your heart. “True, true.” He already admitted that the way you spoke is what caught his attention in the first place.

“Say…” You begin, hesitant. “You remember what I said to you when we first met? Down in the bar.”

Gently, Cooper lifts your arms from around his neck, setting your hands between your bodies. He blows out a breath and starts untying your hands. “I’m old, sweetness. Refresh my memory.” 

"I told you I wasn't for sale," you remind him, blood rushing back into your hands with the removal of the rope. You rub them together.

He makes a small noise of recollection, winding the rope around his hand. “Y’did.”

“I’ve changed my mind,” you say, watching him carefully.

His gaze flickers up to yours, searches your expression. He can tell you’re guarding it, and his own sobers in response. “Dare I ask the cost?”

"Love,” you blurt out, far more graceless than you’d been in your mind. His eyes widen a fraction, caught off guard. In any other moment you’d be smug about that, but now it’s precarious. Whatever nebulous sentiment exists between the two of you, you know it’s fragile. “Love. Yours, or just… mine. The cost is love.”

“Y’don’t love me, sweetheart,” he says, but the gentleness of his words does nothing to dissuade you. It only worsens the yearning in your heart.

“You don’t get to decide that,” you say, a frown tugging at your lips. 

He’s quiet for a moment, gauging you. “Y’don’t know me.”

“You let on more than you think you do,” you counter, hands braced on his chest. “I might not know everything about your life, but I know you.”

You know he read westerns and science fiction novels written by a man named Louis L’Amour, but confessed to liking his poetry best. You know the variations in his smiles. You know the sound he makes when he gets up from sleep, stiff-limbed and weary. You know him in intimacy. You know how he craves  peace and grace in the warmth of your body. If blinded and deafened, you would know his touch.

Whether he likes it or not, you know him the way souls know each other.

His eyes drift away as if he’s leery about you seeing anything more than you have. “What you’re lookin’ for, y’not gonna get it from me. I’m burnt out, darlin’. All dried up.”

“I’m not asking for more than you’ve given,” you say, trying not to let the terrible ache in your chest color your tone. You could scream at him for how wrong he is. How much left of him there is to love. “I’m telling you that I have more to give, and I want you to have it.”

“I wouldn’t even know what t’do with it anymore,” he says, gazing somewhere distant.

You wish he’d at least look at you as you bled your heart. “Nothing you haven’t already done, if that’s what you want.”

“Then why say anything at all?” He asks, an edge creeping into his tone. He does finally look at you, the lines of his expression as guarded as they were the first day you met him. “If y’didn’t want t’change things, why say anything?”

You stiffen to keep from shrinking away. You want this too badly to let him spook you now. 

“So that you know,” you say, choosing your words carefully. Each one feels sharp on your tongue, too honest. Too vulnerable. You’re giving him too much power with each one that falls. “I’m telling you so that you know I love you. I’m telling you because if I don’t, I might explode with it,” you say, fervency climbing in your voice, spurred on by the beginning sting of rejection. “I’m telling you for me. Is it easier to accept my love if it’s selfish?”

There it is again, that flicker across his face. Whatever he expected to hear, it wasn’t that. Slowly, Cooper removes his other glove, dropping it to the wayside. With that same hand, he brings his knuckles to your face, ghosts the heat of them down your cheek.

“Y’deserve better than half measures from a broken old man,” he says so quietly, you strain to hear each word. “Most of me’s always gonna be out in the sands, lookin’ for what’s lost. That’s no life for you.”

Taking his hand in yours, you hesitate a beat before you start to place gentle kisses on his every first knuckle. “Maybe. Maybe not,” you say between kisses, not meeting his eye yet. You’ve never been quite so openly affectionate. “But it’s like you said… Fine company is scarce,” you say, kissing each second knuckle next. “Don’t deny me the best I’ve ever known.”

His smile is reticent, tugged from the corner of his mouth as if by an invisible string. There’s something wistful in his expression. He watches you kiss the pads of his fingers next, the prints of them long worn away and replaced with thick calluses. His thumb is last. You give it a playful little nip, lest the softness of your lips scare him off.

Cooper slips his hand out of yours, the wistfulness of his gaze replaced with somber resignation. “M’sorry, darlin,” he murmurs, cupping either side of your face. 

Your stomach drops, the bitter stench of a goodbye settling into the air between you. You remind yourself that you knew this might happen. You repeat the thought again and again, as if being right will make it hurt less.

His thumbs stroke over your cheeks. “If I were a better man, a stronger man,” he says, gaze dipping to your lips. “I’d walk away for good.”

Your brows furrow. “Wh–”

He kisses you with such gentleness it breaks you apart. Your hands fly to his jacket, holding him to you. It’s as if the entire world spins on its axis, your stomach flipping wildly with it. It leaves you floating, tethered only by the grips you have on each other. What begins as a chaste press quickly heats up into a gnawing hunger, his tongue slipping into your mouth, your teeth scraping his bottom lip.

“Lucky for me that I ain’t even a good man,” he says, words peppered between kisses. 

The world spins again, but this time you really are moving through the air. You let out a yelp as Cooper flips you onto the bed, kissing a trail down your naked chest. You’ve felt his tongue and his teeth, but never the reverent press of his lips. As if you’ve only just given him permission to see you as something more than a tool for vicarious pleasure, he touches your body the way a superstitious man worships–full of intent and genuine belief.

“Cooper,” you sigh, smiling. “It’s my turn to touch you,” you remind him, tugging at the shoulder of his tattered jacket. The most he’s ever taken off is that jacket and his hat, but you want more.

He looks up at you from between your breasts, hesitating a beat. “You should know that it only gets uglier ‘neath the collar, sugar.”

“You’re not ugly,” you tell him. At his skeptical expression, you continue, “I’ve seen ugly. Heard it, felt it. You’re not ugly. Not to me.”

He quirks a hairless brow and lets out an incredulous little breath, adjusting himself onto his knees between your legs, swayed. “Y’might consider glasses,” he tells you, shrugging out of his coat. 

You hook your legs over his and use them as leverage to sit up, reaching for the buttons of his vest. “That might not end well for you,” you say coyly, popping each one loose. 

“I’m used to it,” he says, leaning down for another kiss. This, too, is reverence. He takes his time, savoring the feel of your lips against his, licking the taste of you from them like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever known. With his vest open, you work on his undershirt next, tugging them loose while sucking on his tongue.

Halfway down, he stills your hand with a firm grip on your wrist. “That’ll do,” he tells you, voice little more than a rasp. You bite back a protest and nod, understanding that this is likely more exposed than he’s been in a long, long time. You push back into the kiss and press your hand to his chest, sliding slowly down. 

The skin beneath is as gnarled as old tree bark, pitted in places and scarred in most. For as durable as ghouls are, Cooper’s skin has been shredded and torn and riddled with bullets enough times that parts of his body have taken hold of those memories forever, formed around them.

You treat them gently, tracing them with your fingertips. You feel unreasonably powerful when he shivers subtly beneath your touch. You press your hand flat to his heart to hold the beat of it in your palm. It’s slow, but each thud is strong. You break from him with a deep breath, dizzy from the way he makes your head spin with each kiss.

“Lie down,” you say breathlessly. You’re almost surprised when he does, unaccustomed to taking so much control. You cozy up against him, laying your head where your hand had been a moment ago, and close your eyes. His heartbeat sounds just as it felt. Steady, firm, slow. You imagine the radiation has scarred him inside and out, left his heart thick and misshapen as well. Alive nonetheless.

After a brief hesitation, Cooper’s arm slips around your waist. His thumb caresses your hip. “For what it’s worth,” he begins, his tone overly conversational, masking whatever true feeling lurks beneath. “I won’t hold you to none of it. Not if y’get sick of it.”

If you get sick of him, he means.

You tip your head back to look up at him. His gaze is affixed to the ceiling, but you can see apprehension in his distant expression. You drop your eyes, nuzzling your cheek against his chest. His hand cups the back of your head in response, stroking. You smile faintly, soaking in all these little affections. You wonder how long he’s been holding back from touching you like this, denying himself such simple intimacies in order to maintain a distance he didn’t feel, but deemed necessary.

“You’re wrong, Cooper.”

“‘Bout what?”

“You are a good man.”

He goes quiet at that. The two of you lie there a long while, his hands absently roaming your body like he’s committing you to memory. Your hands do the same, dipping under the hem of his shirt to explore further. He hooks his knuckle under your chin, tips your head back to kiss you languidly.

There’s a surreal domestic feel to the unhurriedness of it all, as if he won’t be gone to the winds come morning. You make a home of this moment in your mind, constructing four walls in which to imagine another life. The kind you’ve read about in tattered books and seen on fuzzy old screens.

All the while Cooper holds you, his lips never long from your skin.

You eventually find your way under the covers together, past the point of words. You drape yourself back down against him, your ear finding the chamber of his heart once more. You fall asleep listening to the beat of it, content for now to take each day you spend with him as they come.

[misspygmypie]

What's That Brush For?

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader Requested: Yes Summary: Lando is fascinated by your morning makeup routine :) Words: 765

Please do not repost, thank you, and leave some feedback :)

Lando stood in the doorway, his eyes wide with fascination as you meticulously applied your makeup. The morning sun streamed through the window, casting a warm glow that made the whole process feel even more intimate. The Brit had been standing there for a good five minutes, observing you while you were pulling your hair into a high ponytail, without saying a single word. 

As you had moved on to doing your makeup for the day he just kept watching, mesmerized, as you skillfully blended foundation and brushed on eyeshadow with precise movements.

“Wow,” he said, leaning in closer, his voice tinged with awe. “I never realized how much goes into this. What’s that brush for?”

You watched as he picked up the little tool and looked at it wide-eyed, bopping its soft bristles with his index finger before bringing it up to his eyes and inspecting it closely.

You glanced up to your boyfriend. “This is a blending brush. It helps smooth out the eyeshadow so there are no harsh lines in between the colors.”

Lando nodded, clearly enthralled by the whole situation. “Can I try? I mean, I probably won’t get it right, but it looks like fun.”

You smiled at him, amused by his enthusiasm. “Sure, give it a go. Just be gentle and please don’t poke my eye out, I kind of still need it.”

“Shut up, you muppet, as if I was that clumsy…” he gave you a sour look and you chuckled, remembering some moments he definitely had been that clumsy.

As he carefully tried his hand at blending the different powders on your eyelid he asked, “Does it always take this long? I feel like I’m messing it up.”

“Practice makes perfect,” you reassured him, watching as his concentration intensified, his tongue now poking out of his mouth making him way more adorable than should be allowed. “It takes time to get the hang of it. And don’t worry, you’re doing fine,” you ensured him after a quick glance into the mirror.

He looked at the result and grinned, a mixture of pride and humor in his expression. “This is really cool. I had no idea it was such an art form. How did you learn all this?”

You laughed softly, appreciating his genuine interest which is something you never would have expected. But then again, this was Lando and he always was full of surprises. “A lot of trial and error, plus some tutorials online. It’s like anything else, practice and patience.”

Lando’s eyes twinkled with enthusiasm. “Maybe I should start learning more. Who knows, I might end up being a makeup artist on the side.”

You chuckled at the boy next to you. “You never know. It could be a fun skill to have. But don’t quit your day job just yet.”

He grinned, returning to his spot by the door, crossing his arms in front of his chest and leaning against the frame. “Fair enough. But if you ever need an assistant, I’m your guy,” Lando announced proudly, pointing at himself with his two thumbs.

“Thanks, Lan. I might just take you up on that offer someday. You know,” you said, applying a bit of highlighter with a deft hand, “makeup can be a lot like racing in a way. It’s all about precision, timing, and a bit of creativity.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Really? I never thought of it that way.”

“Yeah,” you explained, smiling as you looked at him. “Just like in racing, you need to have good technique and an eye for detail. And there’s always room to experiment and improve.”

He nodded thoughtfully, clearly processing the comparison. “I guess it makes sense. And I suppose the same principles apply, practice makes perfect.”

“Exactly,” you agreed. “And it’s all about having fun with it, too.”

Lando’s grin widened. “Well, I definitely had fun. Thanks for letting me try it out. Maybe next time we can swap skills, I'll give you a few racing tips if you show me more about makeup.”

“Deal,” you said, laughing. “Looking forward to it. But how about a cup of coffee first?”

“That can be arranged,” Lando smiled and gave you a quick kiss before he headed out into the direction of the kitchen. 

As the door clicked shut behind him, you tidied up the bathroom counter, feeling a small bit of excitement about what had just happened. It was one of those small moments that made you appreciate Lando just that much more and perhaps you soon would learn something new about his world too!

[jjoongiesbetter]

✎ᝰ. mon's ateez fic recommendations (part 1)!

mdni!

│hi there! i haven't read much lately so the first part came across as a bit shorter than i expected but the next ones will surely be longer!

— as a writer myself, i just wanted to take a moment to thank all the authors for sharing such incredible writing, your hard work is truly appreciated! thank you for sharing your writing with us! ♡

──────── ♡⸝⸝

⤷ kim hongjoong x reader

♡┆ugh, as if by @ennysbookstore; the whole mini-series is just amazing and i enjoyed each part a lot! once i started i couldn't stop reading! loved how well hongjoong was written! the build-up of the first part was top-notch! and the character development... i should thank the author on my knees for writing this masterpiece. one of the best authors out there! definitely will read again!

♡┆swapped by @daisykihannie; the prompt is just so fun and interesting, one of the most creative ones i stumbled across! i haven't read something like this before. enjoyed it very very much!

♡┆punching bag by @mulloey; i must admit it was so just so undeniably hot, angry hongjoong and also so well-written! you will find me re-reading it an unholy amount of times.

♡┆clumsy hearts, steady love by @edenesth; WHAT IF I TELL YOU I CRIED? i already commented on this one on my main but im going to repeat myself! incredibly written, hongjoong suits the concept so well, my heart hurt a bit while reading but it's hongjoong, of course, i forgive him. somehow still very cute.

⤷ jeong yunho x reader

♡┆active recovery by @k-hotchoisan; y'all so i was always so shy about commenting on smut but tbh don't we all read it? author killed it yet again! got me hot, bothered and i am starting to consider a gym subscription!

♡┆the drill by @byuntrash101; look i know this one was posted last year, and i am so mad for not reading it sooner😭 i loved the storyline, wooyoung as a side character was just so funny, yunho without rizz altered my brain chemistry. i can't lie i was thinking about this fic for days after i read it! it's the perfect blend of fun and smut.

♡┆private lessons by @bombuni; i must admit i love professor yunho and it is always a pleasure finding and reading such fics, especially when it's as good as this one! (would love to see a part two one day)

♡┆muffled by @desirehorizon; the plot!!! the writing!!! the smut!!! and it was funny too!!! what more can i want? perfect!! imma say it once again but i enjoyed every word of this fic!!! can't wait to read more from the author!

⤷ song mingi x reader

♡┆still your biggest fan by @byuntrash101; good god it was just so incredibly hot, we need to appreciate the idea because it surely is creative! who doesn't just love teasing mingi? let's agree that we all do.

♡┆sour candy by @0097linersb; loved the idea🙂‍↕️ needy mingi is my favorite mingi, it was very very hot. you better find the time and read it!

⤷ choi jongho x reader

♡┆minor nuisance by @everyonewooeverywhere; i tell you they are in love love! trust me, you definitely need to read this one! jongho was just so sweet, a great fluff/smut combo and now i need jongho in my life even more :(

♡┆freestyle lap by @bro-atz; we all should know by now that bro is just simply one of the best when it comes to smut and they never, never disappoint. i definitely needed to read this one after i saw that pool jongho pics. if you haven't read it yet, what are you even doing?

♡┆falling and sleeping by @seonghwaddict; it was posted earlier this year but i just had to include it :( it was just utterly cute, jongho is adorable. well-written, and melted my poor heart.

multiple members:

⤷ choi jongho x kang yeosang x reader

♡┆the post show high by @bombuni; i must shamelessly admit while reading it i felt like the author somehow got into my brain and just picked one of my fantasies, hope it's not tmi. so saying i loved it it's an understatement! one of my favorite authors for real!

pairings:

⤷ kim hongjoong x jeong yunho (hohong)

ao3 ♡┆darling, you will bury me (before i bury you) by SunshineAndRayne; cute cute cute! i loved every letter of it, yunho is so whipped and i am living for it!

ao3 ♡┆waiting for you by marspacz; i absolutely loved this one so much! my heart needed this, had me smiling the entire time i was reading! and then the shotgun scene—damn, that was hot!

[solxamber]

Reaper's Guide to Romance - Idia Shroud x reader

When reaper Idia Shroud is assigned to collect your soul, he can't help but come up with increasingly ridiculous excuses to spare you.

Idia Shroud wasn’t having a good time. He never expected to enjoy being a grim reaper, of course. But this? This was torture. Every time he was assigned to take your soul, something in him short-circuited, and he’d find the dumbest, most illogical reason not to do it. And now, his reaper colleagues had started keeping a list—an actual, physical list—of his increasingly absurd excuses.

Today, they were gathered in their usual spot—an ethereal break room (don’t ask)—and once again, Idia was trying to justify why you were still, you know, alive.

Riddle Rosehearts, the epitome of order and rules, was glaring at Idia with a look that could melt steel. His clipboard (obviously) was ready, quill poised for judgment.

"So, Idia, why didn’t you reap this time?" Riddle asked with a sigh, clearly running low on patience.

Idia’s hair flickered with nervous blue flames. "W-Well… they were having a tea party!"

Riddle blinked slowly. "And?"

"And, you know, you can’t just interrupt a tea party. It’s like, super rude! Imagine, they’re just about to take a sip of perfectly steeped tea, and bam! I swoop in with my scythe, just ruining the whole vibe!" Idia flailed his arms, wide-eyed. "It’d be chaos!"

Riddle’s eye twitched as he wrote down: Excuse #101: Tea party interruption is ‘chaotic.’

"You… can’t be serious," Riddle muttered, but with Idia, this was business as usual.

"It’s a thing! You know, tea etiquette! I figured you’d get it!" Idia added defensively.

"That is the most ridiculous—" Riddle started, but Idia quickly mumbled something about ‘strict standards’ and slinked away before Riddle could go on another tirade about tea etiquette versus grim reaper duties.

Leona was next, leaning against a pillar, his usual half-lidded gaze fixed on Idia with a mix of amusement and disdain. "So what’s the deal this time, Shroud? Too busy playing video games or something?"

Idia groaned, rubbing his temples. "N-No! I had a valid reason this time!"

"Uh-huh. Let’s hear it." Leona’s smirk was all too ready.

"They were napping!"

Leona blinked, his smile vanishing. "Napping?"

"Yeah!" Idia nodded enthusiastically. "I mean, come on. Napping is sacred! You of all people should get it! Would you want to be woken up by some creepy reaper dude hovering over you like, ‘Oh hey, time to die, sorry about your nap?’ It’d totally ruin their REM cycle."

Leona snorted, shaking his head as he scrawled on the list. "Excuse #102: ‘Napping is sacred.’ You’re unbelievable, Shroud."

"It’s just… common decency, man!" Idia whined, knowing full well Leona was probably internally agreeing but couldn’t resist giving him a hard time.

Leona waved him off. "Next time, just bring a pillow or something."

Azul was perched behind a desk, his fingers steepled in that smug way he did when he was about to make Idia squirm. "Let me guess, you’ve come up with another… creative justification, Idia?"

Idia winced. He really didn’t want to get into this one, but here he was. "W-Well, they were in the middle of a… negotiation."

Azul’s eyes gleamed. "Negotiation?"

"Yeah, you know, like, a super important deal! I couldn’t just cut in and ruin that!" Idia blurted, waving his hands around. "You of all people should get it, Azul! I mean, contracts and deals? Imagine, they’re about to secure the best terms, and then I show up like some kind of… death interruptus. I’d be killing their vibe!"

Azul smiled, entertained. "Killing their vibe, Idia? Or their chance at a good deal?"

"Both!" Idia exclaimed, a little too loudly.

Azul chuckled as he scribbled down the next entry: Excuse #103: ‘Interrupting contract negotiations would kill the vibe.’

"Honestly, Idia, if you spent as much time reaping as you making excuses for them, you’d be the most efficient reaper of us all," Azul teased.

Idia mumbled something incoherent and slunk off, hating how right Azul was.

When Kalim found out about the list, he was nothing but sunshine and encouragement. He didn’t even seem to mind that Idia was epically failing at his job.

"So what happened this time, Idia?" Kalim asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet, excited as ever.

"They looked… too happy," Idia muttered, cringing.

Kalim’s smile widened. "Aww, that’s sweet! You didn’t want to take away their happy moment, right?"

"Y-Yeah, exactly! How could I just roll in and ruin it? They were, like, glowing! Not literally, I mean, but they had that look, you know?" Idia stammered, running out of words to explain himself.

Kalim beamed. "That’s so thoughtful of you, Idia! Good vibes are important!" He turned to the list, which was rapidly filling up. Excuse #104: ‘Couldn’t ruin the happy vibes.’

Idia, still flustered, muttered, "It’s not like I wanted to let them live…"

Vil stood there, arms crossed, looking like he’d just tasted something unsatisfactory. "So, Idia, what excuse do you have this time?" His tone was all but dripping with disdain.

Idia hesitated. This one was even more ridiculous than usual. "W-Well, they were in the middle of their skincare routine."

Vil’s perfectly arched brow shot up. "Their… skincare routine?"

Idia nodded furiously. "Yeah, like, you know the ten-step thing? They were deep in it—cleansing, exfoliating, moisturizing, all that jazz. You can’t just take someone’s soul mid-routine! Their skin would freak out from the stress. I’d be responsible for, like, eternal breakouts."

Vil stared at him in utter disbelief. "You’re telling me you let them live because of… skincare?"

"Hey, good skin is a serious commitment!" Idia defended, folding his arms.

Vil sighed, jotting down the next entry: Excuse #105: ‘Interrupting skincare would cause eternal breakouts.’

"I’ve never heard something so… absurd, yet strangely respectful," Vil muttered, rubbing his temples.

Finally, Malleus stood before Idia, arms crossed and looking ever so regal. He tilted his head slightly. "So, Shroud… what is your reason this time?"

Idia stammered. This one was, without a doubt, the dumbest excuse he’d ever come up with. "U-Uh… I got lost."

Malleus blinked. "Lost?"

"Yeah! There were… gargoyles."

"Gargoyles," Malleus repeated, deadpan.

"Look, I got distracted by their craftsmanship, and then I, uh, took a wrong turn," Idia said, voice shrinking by the second.

Malleus, maintaining his composure, glanced at the ever-growing list. "I see. Excuse #106: ‘Got distracted by gargoyles.’ A most… unique excuse."

Idia could feel his soul slowly withering under Malleus’s cool gaze.

Idia had managed to avoid reaping you so many times that even you had started to notice something was up. You weren’t sure why the world’s most awkward reaper kept showing up and then… not doing his job, but it had gotten to the point where you couldn’t help but laugh about it.

One day, after catching him lurking around awkwardly—again—you decided to confront him.

"Okay, I have to ask," you said, leaning casually against a tree. "Why do you keep sparing me? It’s not like you’ve been subtle about it."

Idia flinched, his hair flashing a bright blue as he tried to think of a response. "I-I don’t… what? N-No! That’s not…!"

You raised an eyebrow. "You didn’t take me because of tea parties, naps, gargoyles, and skincare routines, didn’t you?"

Idia froze, his mouth hanging open as he realized you somehow knew everything. "H-How did you—?"

"Lucky guess," you said, grinning. "So, what’s the real reason?"

Idia shuffled awkwardly, avoiding your gaze. "I-I just… I couldn’t… I’m not good at this, okay?! Reaping, or talking to people, or…" He trailed off into his usual nervous mumbling.

You chuckled, stepping closer to him. "Well, you know, if you keep sparing me, I’m gonna start thinking you like me or something."

Idia’s hair flared bright pink at your teasing, and he backed up a step, nearly tripping over his own feet. "W-What?! Like you?! No, no, that’s… that’s crazy! I mean, sure, you’re… cool, or whatever, but that doesn’t mean—"

You grinned wider, cutting him off. "So, you like me?"

His face flushed redder than his hair had ever glowed, and he stammered incoherently, "N-No! I mean… Y-Yes? I… I don’t know! It’s not like I’ve done this before!"

Your laugh rang out through the quiet air, and Idia looked mortified. You couldn’t help but find his awkwardness endearing. "Wow, Idia, I didn’t know grim reapers could be this cute."

"C-Cute?! Don’t… call me that!" He looked like he was ready to melt into the ground, but he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

You stepped closer, smiling mischievously. "Alright, alright, I’ll stop messing with you. But if you’re that bad at taking souls, maybe you should stick to something you’re better at."

"Like what?" Idia asked, blinking in confusion.

"Like… taking me out for dinner instead," you suggested, your voice playful.

Idia’s eyes widened, and he gaped at you, absolutely dumbfounded. "D-Dinner?! You’re asking me out?!"

You laughed again, the sound light and teasing. "Well, you’ve spared my life at least ten times now. I think I owe you one."

For a moment, Idia just stood there, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. His brain seemed to be buffering. "A-A date? With me?"

"Yeah, with you," you confirmed with a wink. "Unless, of course, you’d rather finish your job and reap my soul?"

Idia practically jumped. "N-No! I-I mean, yes! I mean… I’d rather not… do the reaping thing. I-I can’t believe this is happening…"

You smiled softly, watching him fidget nervously. "So? What do you say? Dinner?"

Idia’s mind was racing, and his hair was flickering wildly between blue and pink. "I… I guess… y-yeah? Yes! Yes, I-I’d like that…"

As he stumbled over his words, you couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head fondly. "Great. It’s a date, then."

Idia’s heart was practically doing somersaults in his chest, and he could hardly believe what had just happened. As you walked away with a cheerful wave, he stood there, frozen in disbelief.

Lilia, who had been quietly observing the entire thing from the shadows, stepped out with a gleeful smile. "Ah, young love! Isn’t it wonderful, Idia?"

Idia groaned, burying his face in his hands. "L-Lilia, please don’t…"

But Lilia was already laughing, delighted beyond words. "It’s about time you stopped making excuses, my boy! Now go get ready for your date! You’ve got a life to live—or, at the very least, a dinner to survive."

Idia mumbled something about how his life was over, but despite his grumbling, there was a small, awkward smile on his face. After all, he’d just managed to get a date without even trying… even if it had taken about a hundred failed reaping attempts to get there.

Masterlist

[darkbluekies]

The track runner reader fic w/Silas got me thinking👀

Hear me out okay..

Ballerina reader x Silas

How would he react to see her practice,her shows

Swan lake, Giselle..

Italian fouettés, Entrechat quatre x3 royale, Developpe A la Seconde etc

Yk the high extensions,leg holds the whole shebang

Just a thot👀

Stolen part

Yandere!mafia x fem!reader

Summary: you've finally been granted to do ballet, but when Silas sees you upset, everything turns into a nightmare

Warnings: yandere, mentions of blood, broken bones, a lot of guilt and confusion, panic attack(?), reader just feeling horrible

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: I took some creative liberty with your request, I hope that's okay. And uh, I know 0 about ballet, so take this with a handful of salt<3

One performance — that’s the deal. One single performance and then you’ll go back to normal life. You nearly fainted when he told you that you could do one dance, after months and months of begging, pleading and crying. You almost started threatening him when you became desperate enough. 

“Well … we’re here”, Silas sighs as his men stop the car. “You know the rules, don’t you? Do we have to go through them again?”

“No, I know them”, you smile. 

You take his hand while exiting the car. Silas smiles and squeezes your hand softly. It’s worth all the trouble, he tells himself. If you’re happy, then it’s all worth it.

When you enter the practice room, you’re met by a dozen other girls wearing the same clothes as you. It’s been such a long time ago that you’ve felt so … included. There’s a certain feeling about wearing the same thing that creates a unity you can’t explain. 

“Run along”, Silas tells you, giving you a small push towards the group. 

He walks over to the instructor. He can tell right away that she knows who he is. He braces himself. She can either call the police or let him go. If she decides to call the police, he’ll have to create a blood bath and snatch you back in the car. 

“Can I have a word with you?” Silas asks politely. 

“Sure”, the woman answers hesitantly. 

“I can tell by the look on your face that you know very well who I am, so I want to make a deal with you.”

“What type of deal?”

“If you don’t call the cops on me and give my girlfriend an honest chance — because I know that she’s magnificent — I will fund your entire club. All clothes, all expenses, all props, venue, is on me. Fair?”

The woman thinks for a moment. Silas know that the club is underfunded. He knows that she has to agree.

“Okay”, the woman says shortly. 

“Good”, Silas replies and waves at you to come over. 

You skip over with sparkling eyes. He pulls you in to kiss him, in front of everybody. His kisses are always controlled by him, but they always show extremely much love for you, a deep hunger nothing can satisfy. 

“My men will stay to supervise, to make sure nothing happens to you”, he says and gives you another kiss. “Have fun now, little thing. I’ll see you soon.”

You nod. Silas squeezes your shoulder, gives the group of ballerinas a warning stare and then leaves. 

You return to the group. The people who knows who Silas is give you nervous gazes and the ones who don’t look at you with jealousy. 

Well, this is starting off great, you’ll absolutely make many friends.

Time goes on. Silas enjoys seeing the wise smile on your face every time you exit the building after a practice. Every time you’re in practice, he takes the opportunity to do some errands. He always makes sure to come pick you up clean, never covered in blood. 

But one day, you’re crying when you meet him. His heart drops in an instant and he thinks that putting you in ballet was a mistake. It wasn’t worth it at all. 

“What happened, baby?” he asks worriedly and takes you in his arms. “What did they do to you?”

You struggle to talk through your violent sobs. He believes that you’re having a panic attack, but you can still move relatively well. Silas grabs your shoulders and waves at his men to come over. 

“Y/N, what did they do to you?” he asks and looks at his men. “Did any of the others hurt her?”

The men shake their heads. 

“Y/N!” Silas says sharply. 

“I-I didn’t … get … the ... lead role”, you manage to get out through your sobs. 

You know it’s silly, of course. Honestly. It’s childish to cry over not being the main character, but this was your only chance to be on stage before you’ll get pulled back into capture. You’ll never have this much freedom again. It’s embarrassing to cry about this, and you know that very well, but they don’t know how much you’ve suffered to even be in the practice room. 

“You didn’t?” Silas asks shortly. 

“No”, you cry. 

Silas turns to his men and hands you to one of them. 

“Bring her to the car”, he says. “I will be back soon.”

He disappears into the building. The practice room is empty, apart from the constructor who is cleaning up after today's class.

“Oh”, she says, noticing him. “Can I help you?”

“If you're smart, you can”, Silas says coldly. “I heard that Y/N didn't get the lead role. I'm just wondering why?”

“She wasn't exactly what I had in mind for this particular role … I mean, she's extremely good, but just not what I had in mind when I visualized the lead. She's a runner up, though.”

Not good enough, Silas thinks.

“Okay”, he says and nods. “I see.”

Without waiting for an answer, he turns around and leaves. Anger is burning through his chest. Seeing you so upset makes him see red. He would burn down the entire world for you to watch you smile. He walks back to the car where you sit in the backseat and the two men in the front. 

“Hey, baby”, he smiles and sits down beside you. “Are you feeling better? Should we get some food on the way home?”

You nod. Silas smiles and wipes your tears. His men are forced to hear how he sucks the air out of you in the backseat. He devours your lips, trying to comfort both you and himself. He holds you in his arms, letting you cry. The more you cry, the more embarrassed you feel. You’re ashamed because you can’t understand why you are so upset over it. It’s just a role, you’ll still be on stage, won’t you? Is it because you think that you’re better than the others? That you deserve the position of the lead? Do you deserve it because you’re so good or because this is your only chance? The others have many more opportunities to get the role you want, why can’t you just get one? You’ll never be seen again, why can’t you get it?

Why are you thinking like this? You’re not entitled to anything. Has Silas imprinted the narrative that you’re so special, so wonderful that deeply into your brain? Do you believe that you’re this special, one of a kind person that deserve everything because you’re so special? 

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Silas asks, caressing your cheek. “You look so thoughtful. Let me in.”

“I- … I- …”, you start, but can’t seem to talk — you can’t even formulate your own thoughts.

“Breathe, baby. It’s okay, you’re with me now.”

“I am breathing … I just …”

“Just …?”

You shake your head. 

“Just hungry”, you lie. “And tired.”

“It’s okay, you’ll get some food soon”, Silas promises and kisses your lips once again. “We’ll stop by McDonald’s.”

You get your food and you eat together with Silas in your bedroom, but you can’t stop thinking about the lump in your stomach. Why are you so upset? Why can’t you put words on your feelings? 

You lay awake the entire night in your empty bed (because Silas is out working) and think. Crying over not getting the lead role won’t make you enjoy the last few weeks in the club. Ballet is your true love, you should do everything you can to enjoy it — specifically because you’ll not get it back. You should be happy with your role — you’re even a runner up! That’s fantastic. You breathe out. Ease sets into your heart. It doesn’t matter what role you get, as long as you have fun. 

When you enter the practice room the next time, you can tell that something is wrong right away. The girl who got the lead part … has crutches. You feel a shiver run down your back. Mortified, you shake your head. Silas. He must have done something to give you the lead role, that you so desperately wanted. He never got to know that you became satisfied with your original role. Guilt washes over you, suddenly you feel extremely sick. You need to take a hold on the wall to not fall. One hand presses against your chest to not vomit. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” one of the body guards asks as they hurry over. 

You nod sloppily. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, oh my god. This is all my fault. 

This is what you had been feeling bad about — finally you can put words on that weird feeling in your stomach. You were scared that Silas would do something to the girl that got the lead without even noticing it. If anything, that shows how close you know Silas.

“He … he did this … didn’t he?” you whisper, feeling distant. 

“The boss couldn’t stand to watch you be upset”, one of the body guards answers quietly, only for you to hear. “He made sure to get you the role he wanted.”

You’re freezing. That poor girl. Suddenly you don’t want that part anymore. The part is dirty, and your hands are covered in blood. 

Your mind is anywhere but in practice when you dance your stolen part, but your body works for you. 

Silas is standing out in the parking lot a wide smile when you walk out. He opens his arms for you, but you don’t walk into them. 

“Are you happy now?” he asks. 

“You shouldn’t have done that, Silas …”, you say quietly and shake your head. 

He tries to grab you, but you jerk back. Silas frowns. 

“But you wanted it”, he says. “You had a panic attack. I gave the part to you.”

“Silas, I feel extremely guilty. I stole her part. It’s not fair.”

He grabs your shoulders and force you to look at him. 

“The world isn’t fair, little thing”, he says. “If you have some power, use it. I want to use my power to make you happy, baby. You’ll do better than that girl ever could. You should have gotten that part from the very beginning.”

He gives you a kiss and brings you to the car. 

When the day for the performance arrive, you refuse to come out of the dressing room. The costume looks horrible on you. You can only see the other girl in the mirror. None of the other girls have talked to you after the lead girl ended up with crutches. They all know why you got the role. And how you got it. 

“We start in five minutes, get out!” the instructor tells you and basically pulls you out on stage. 

You see a lot of familiar faces in the crowd. Silas has brought as many of his men as he possibly could. Silas himself is sitting in the front row with his right hand man beside him, smiling at you. You look around. All his men are smiling at you. Weirdly enough, it’s somehow cute. They all look like they could kill anyone in any second, but the second you look their way, big, genuine smiles creeps up on their faces. Turning them from killer machines to teddy bears. 

You dance to the best of your ability. This is what you’ve been begging and pleading for. Better enjoy the spotlight while you can. You can’t help but feeling dirty throughout the performance. Silas, however, has never looked this proud before. 

The second the applauds roll in, you fall to your knees, crying. You fulfilled your childhood dream, but at what cost? A girl broke her leg because of your emotions, you stole her role … you’re covered in dirt that you can’t wash off. You don’t deserve these applauds. You don’t deserve any of this. 

“Y/N!” Silas gasps and runs up on the stage with his right hand man by his side. “Are you okay, baby?”

“I want to go home”, you sob. “Get me out of here.”

Silas nods and waves at his men to walk out. He picks you up and follows his men. 

“You did so well, baby”, Silas smiles while walking. “I’ma always proud of you, but this was something else. Everyone saw how absolutely fantastic you were. You’re an absolute badass, baby. I fucking love you so much.”

You smile slightly. It’s finally over. You’ve achieved your dream — although you wish that you never had done it — and now, you’re going back to your locked bedroom. You almost long for it. 

[moonstruckme]

also i LOVE your poly!marauders apocalypse au (so creative btw!! i'm obsessed!!) and would be so down to read something in that universe where the reader gets hypothermia or something like that hehe !!!! <333333

Thanks for requesting lovely!

cw: mild hypothermia

apocalypse poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

You keep tripping, which is mildly embarrassing. You think it’s a combination of fatigue and the general numbness that’s pervaded your body even through the layers you’d put on when you’d packed up the campsite that morning. You’d all agreed that, with the death eaters on your trail, it’s really only safe to stay in one area for a few days at a time, even with all the protections you place around your sites. But that means days where, instead of lounging around your tent, listening to the radio and plotting for the Order, you use all the daylight you have to hike through the wintry woods until you’re far enough away to set up another camp. 

Sirius glances back when you stumble again, the toe of your boot catching on a branch you hadn’t seen buried in the snow. It’s a more dramatic affair than it should be, and you barely get your other foot out in front of you fast enough to avoid face-planting into the leaf litter. 

Your shivering worsens as another gust of wind burns your face, making your thick jacket feel like mesh. You think this has to be the worst moving day your group has had yet. The cold is the same, but the sun hasn’t so much as peeked from behind the clouds all day and the wind makes it nearly unbearable. The snow is thick enough that you’ve started stepping in the boys’ footprints to save energy. One of the many perks of taking up the rear. 

You nearly hit Sirius when he stops in front of you. 

“This clearing looks about as good as any,” James is saying, but Remus looks hesitant. 

“I don’t know,” he frets. “Do you think it’s far enough? We’ve been slow today.” 

“You’re tired,” James says kindly. You look at Remus, noting his slouched posture, the weariness he’s never quite learned to hide from his expression. You’re not sure how you didn’t notice his exhaustion before. You’re usually more aware of those things. “And it’s horrid out here. Let’s just call it a night, and if you’re still anxious about it tomorrow we’ll go a bit further.” 

“I can make it further tonight.” 

“It’s not all about you, Moony,” Sirius drawls. He looks especially monochrome against all the fresh white snow, you think. His superblack hair is as eye-catching as neon. “I’ve got a rock in my shoe I’d love to get out, and I know y/n’s knees have to be black and blue from the way she’s been falling for the past hour.” 

His scheme works; Remus looks to you, arguments of his own fortitude forgotten. “Are you tired, dove? You want to stop?” 

You shrug. “Yeah, I guess. It’s cold.” 

Suddenly all three boys seem focussed intently on you. You’re not sure why. You don’t actually recall much of what you’d been talking about. 

“Could you say that again?” James asks you. His brows are stitched together and his eyes have gone all sharp behind his glasses. 

“I just said it’s cold.” 

“Why’re you talking like that, doll?” Sirius takes a step toward you, then looks to Remus. “Why is she slurring?” 

“I don’t know,” Remus says softly. He’s looking at you weird, too. Frowny. “Yeah, let’s set up. Maybe she just needs a rest.” 

James spells the tent up quickly, then makes Remus stay and sit with you while he and Sirius set up the protections and everything else. The temperature inside the magical tent is cozy. Remus lights a fire in the grate to warm you all up. 

“Do you feel okay, lovely?” he asks, helping you out of your jacket. You sit on the bed, working off your shoes. 

“Yeah, just…just really tired.” 

He furrows his eyebrows, placing a palm on your cheek. You have no clue how it’s so warm, but a sigh escapes you as you lean into the touch. 

“When did you start tripping?” he asks you. 

You…you’re not sure. You can’t remember the first time it happened. How long had you been walking?

Your bemusement must show on your face, because Remus’ mouth pinches. His hand slides down to cup your face, fingers pressing oddly into your jaw. Frankly, you could care less where he puts them so long as he keeps touching you.

“Feeling better?” James asks, materializing behind Remus. You’re not sure which one of you he’s talking to, but you hum contentedly anyway. 

“I think she might be hypothermic,” Remus doesn’t look away from you as he talks, his eyebrows lowered like he’s waiting for you to answer a question you don’t remember him asking. His fingers press harder into your neck. “Her pulse is…scary weak.” 

James looks at you, and you look at Remus. 

“You really think so?” you ask him, befuddled. “I don’t feel…I’m only tired.” 

“Hypothermia makes you tired,” he tells you gently. “And you’re slurring your words, love.” 

You feel an icy tendril of fear snake around your spine. “I am?” 

“You’re alright.” James catches onto your panic quickly, leaning over Remus to give your shoulders a bolstering squeeze. “Let’s just get some of these layers off you, and then we’ll swaddle you in blankets.” He starts easing off your jumper, leaving you in just your undershirt. You’re newly cognizant of the sluggishness of your movements as you raise your arms to help him. “Once you sit by the fire for a bit, you’ll be feeling back to normal in no time.” 

You nod numbly, lifting your bum to tug off the jeans you’d worn over leggings. James takes the blanket from the bed and wraps it around you while Remus goes to find more in the other room. 

“Poor love,” James coos, dropping a kiss to your head. “You’re shaking like a leaf.” 

“No duh,” Sirius says, the tent flap letting in a blast of cool air behind him. “It’s fucking freezing out.” 

James offers him a sorry smile. “We think she’s got hypothermia.” 

Sirius sobers, stormcloud eyes flickering to you. “Shit, really? How bad is that?” 

“Not too bad, I don’t think,” Remus says, nudging past him with a stack of blankets in his arms. “I mean, it’d be great if I’d thought to bring any books on that sort of thing, but I’m fairly sure if it were bad she’d be more confused and a bit…blueish.” He drapes a blanket over your shoulders, letting James pull it tighter and tuck it about as he wishes. “Do you feel any better?” 

“I think so,” you say quietly. It’s a bit unnerving to be at the center of so much alarm like this. You do feel better being out of the cold, but you’re not sure if that’s what he’s asking. “It’s a little hard to tell.” 

“You don’t seem like you’re slurring as badly,” James evaluates. He cups the back of your neck, planting a kiss on the frozen tip of your nose. “I think you’re getting better already, lovie.” 

Your face certainly feels warmer. 

Sirius grins at your flustering, though it’s dampened by worry. “What about a hot chocolate?” he asks, tone unusually gentle. “Does that sound like it might help?” 

“I’m fine,” you say, and he disregards you immediately, posing the same question to Remus. 

“Would that help?”

Remus shrugs. “It could. Doubt it would hurt. James, love, I think she’s got enough blankets.” 

James frowns, peering through the layers of covering to find your face. “Do you feel warm enough, angel?” 

You blink, owlish. “I think so?” 

He shakes his head. “Sounds far from certain. More blankets it is. Sirius, get started on the hot chocolate.” 

[discordantwritings]

Creative Cures (Mihawk x Reader)

Warnings: NSFW 18+ MDNI, gn afab! Reader, sex pollen trope (but it’s a devil fruit power), the inherent dubcon of sex pollen but the con is as con as it can get under the circumstances, intercrural sex, PiV sex, creampie, mild cumplay, semi public sex

WC: 3.3k

Summary: As a relatively high ranking Marine doctor you were in charge of Dracule Mihawk’s post mission check ups. Normally you don’t have to do anything- until he shows up sick.

The only solution both you and him can agree on is a little… unconventional

Notes: I (lovingly) blame @fanaticsnail for this. All of her lovely sex pollen fics pushed me over the edge to write this one so go check hers out. Go.

Tagging: @keiva1000

Most Marines didn’t like it when Mihawk had to come check in and give his after mission report in person. But you barely considered yourself a Marine anyways, always thinking of yourself as a doctor first before anything. A doctor who just so happened to be in charge of doing all of Mihawk’s post mission check ups.

Of course it took him a while to actually agree to do any sort of post mission work, but despite his generally sour attitude inside the Marines base he was never mean to you. Dismissive? Sure. Non-compliant with any medical advice you’d give? Yes. But that’s what you dealt with on a day to day basis. He was one of the few people you could have intelligent conversation with- he would listen to you and you would cherish the snippets of traveling stories you would get out of him.

Your check ups were never more than a handful of minutes, you had never seen him get more than a scratch, but he always let you run down your required checklist. Despite this you always cleared out half your day, just in case. So today, a day he was set to check in at your base, you sat patiently in your office until he was done talking with your superiors.

And waited.

And waited some more.

Until, finally, there was a frantic knock on your door before a frazzled looking cadet burst in. You immediately stand up and get serious- mass injuries were unfortunately commonplace for you to deal with and he had the scared look of someone who just saw a ship roll in half destroyed.

“Doctor-“

“How bad.”

“It’s Mihawk.”

That caught you entirely off guard and your stomach drops. “How bad?”

“We don’t know. He was giving his report and then he looked flushed and that’s when he ran out. Apparently he’s locked himself in some spare office and won’t come out.” He explains and you slowly get more and more concerned.

You quickly grab your bag and sling in over your shoulder, practically pushing the cadet out the door with you as you order him to show you where Mihawk is. It’s a quick jog down hallways and stairs but eventually you get to a door with two cadets on either side. One of your captains is leaning on the wall across from the door looking exasperated.

“The only thing he’s telling us is to leave him alone.” The captain explains, gesturing to the door.

You sigh and walk up to the door, rapping on it with your knuckles. “Mihawk, you’ve got everyone worried out here.”

A few seconds pass before you hear Mihawk’s voice, muffled from behind the steel door. “Doctor?”

“Everyone said you looked sick.” You explain.

There’s a long pause and you’re about to speak again before you hear his voice. “You all need to get out of here.”

You see the captain throw up his hands in your peripheral and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. Turning your attention back to your fellow Marines you gesture down the hallway.

“Give me a few minutes alone with him.” You don’t need to tell them twice, and they eagerly take the relief.

You wait a few beats for them to clear out and then turn your attention back to the door. “Alright, it’s just us.”

“I thought I made it clear that all of you needed to leave me alone.” You can tell he’s close to the door, which you take as somewhat of a good sign.

“Look, if it’s something contagious I just need to know. If it’s something embarrassing I’m a doctor and I take confidentiality incredibly seriously.” There’s silence and you lean on the door. “Just let me help you.”

You hear him moving behind the door and then the heavy sound of the lock turning. You give him a few seconds before you enter, closing the door after yourself immediately.

All the lights are off, only the small amount of light through the high circular windows illuminating the space. It takes you a second to locate Mihawk but eventually you find him, shoulders hunched as he leans on an abandoned desk. It’s jarring to see his normally perfect posture gone and even in the low light you can see the intense flush over his face and exposed chest. You don’t need a thermometer to see that his temperature is dangerously high.

“What happened?” You don’t approach him, hoping the space gives him some comfort.

“It was-“ He breaks off as he pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Some Devil Fruit user. Don’t know what the power was but I inhaled some smoke and then-“

He trails off and you know you’re probably in a bit over your head. Devil Fruit powers could be quite literally anything. You shove all that down though and hope your nervousness doesn’t show. “What are your symptoms?”

Mihawk shakes his head. “This was a mistake I shouldn’t have let you in you need to-“

“Mihawk I need you to tell me.” You’re unsure where this confidence is coming from, there’s not a world in which you would ever be in a position to tell a warlord what to do. But to your surprise, it works.

“I’ll kill you if you tell anyone.” He practically growls.

“You have my word.”

“Fine.” You see him shift and it looks like he’s uncomfortable in his own skin. “I have a fever, I am experiencing some mental fog, and my senses seem to be heightened.”

It’s your years as a doctor that let you immediately know he’s holding something back. “And?”

His gaze darts up and he glares at you making your blood run ice cold. If looks could kill you would be a pile of viscera on the floor. Despite this, he does give you and answer.

“I am in an… unnatural state of arousal.”

Oh.

That would certainly explain a few things.

You let your doctor brain take over as you set your bag on the ground, opening it and looking through what you have. Medication wouldn’t help since the cause was a Devil Fruit power but…

“Okay. I have a few ideas.” You reach into your bag and pull out an ice pack, throwing it over to Mihawk who easily catches it and presses it to his forehead. “The first is what you are doing, which is isolate until the effect stops. I’m not sure this is the best idea since you seem to be incredibly uncomfortable.”

“What else.”

“I could sedate you and hopefully have it flushed out of your system by the time you wake up.” You offer, showing him the vial of clear liquid.

“Absolutely not. I refuse to be further incapacitated around you Marines.” He spits out the last word and you would be offended if you actually considered yourself a Marine.

“Alright. Those are my… sensible ideas.”

“Which implies there are insensible ones. Spit it out.”

You can’t blame him for being short but it didn’t make your next concepts any easier to say. “I could find you someone to… ride it out with.”

That idea hangs in the air and you watch Mihawk screw his eyes shut, clearly struggling. “I don’t- it’s insufferable enough to be vulnerable on a Marine base but you want to bring in some stranger-“

“You’re right, I’m sorry.”

A thought pops into your head as you scramble for more ideas as Mihawk’s composure slowly keeps slipping. It’s a stupid thought, one a doctor like you shouldn’t have even had. But in the moment, pressed for ideas, it tumbles out of your mouth before you can even think properly about it.

“I would help you.”

You realize what you’ve said a moment too late and wish that somehow the floor would swallow you whole. It’s not like you don’t want to- it’s clear that your stupid monkey brain has always held on an attraction to the incredibly handsome warlord- but offering yourself up like this?

Beyond wildly inappropriate.

“Don’t say things like that.” Mihawk says as he backs up a few steps and shame hits you like a brick wall.

“I’m so sorry- it was- you shouldn’t be with anyone when you’re compromised like this I’ll just-“ You fumble over your words and quickly turn to unlock the door and get out of there.

Before your hand can even reach the handle an arm comes out from behind you and slams on the door. Suddenly you feel the intense heat of Mihawk’s body behind you, heavy breath fanning over the back of your neck. He doesn’t press into your body but instead hovers and your mind can’t quite keep up with the sudden change in events.

“Don’t say things like that if you don’t mean it.” His voice is low and dripping with lust.

Your gaze is locked forward as you try to control your breathing. “I meant it.”

“Last chance.”

The professional part of your brain gets smashed to smithereens as he presses his body against yours. “If you’re sure you want this then-“

The air is knocked out of your lungs as he steps forward, pushing you harshly into the door. One hand knots in your hair while the other snakes around your waist and pulls you in impossibly closer. The grip on your hair forces your head to the side, giving Mihawk the space to attack your neck, teeth digging into your skin immediately. As he does so he grinds his hips up and you can feel just how painfully hard he is against your ass.

The hand on your waist pulls at your uniform pants and you quickly get the idea, using your free hands to shove them down. You’re only able to get them just over your ass with how your legs are pressed apart by Mihawk’s but that seems to be enough for him. His hands leave you for a second and you hear the clatter of his belt before both hands tightly grip your hips.

You feel his cock slide between your folds, not entering you but instead sliding between your lips. His shaft is almost scorching hot as it slides against your clit, slick dripping from you and easing his shallow and fast thrusts.

“I just- fuck I just have to take the edge of your so-“ The grip on your hips is bruising as he holds you still to use you.

“It’s alright just-“ You can practically feel every vein against your sensitive clit and you bring one of your hands up and back to dig into his hair.

The scratch of your nails in his scalp is all Mihawk needs to tip over the edge, grunting as he spills onto the door and your thighs. You feel his heavy breath on your neck as he collects himself but the hardness against you doesn’t fade. You hear frustration in a low growl against your back but despite this he places kisses over the deep bite marks he created on your neck.

Slowly Mihawk pries his body away from yours and you take the opportunity to quickly toe off your shoes and slip your pants all the way off. When you turn around you see Mihawk watching you from a large chair, slowly pumping his cock, soaking from you slick.

“Get the rest of that god awful uniform off doctor.” You quickly discard your jacket and pull your shirt over your head, earning an appreciative hum from Mihawk. “What a pity you have to hide all that.”

You flush under his compliment and piercing gold gaze. With his free hand he beckons you over and you obey without hesitation. The second you’re close enough he pulls you into his lap, your thighs pushed apart by his spread ones. Your hands grab his shoulders to stabilize yourself as his hands find your hips once more.

“Normally I would work you open darling but-“ He nuzzles into your neck, breathing in your scent. “You can take it, can’t you?”

He doesn’t wait for a reply before one incredibly strong hand pushes you down while the other lines himself up with your entrance. You don’t fight him as his tip presses into you, stretching you out. You curse as he pushes into you a bit faster than you can adjust, but probably significantly slower than he wants to fuck into you. The sting feels good mixed with the way Mihawk curses and praises you under his breath, words barely understandable as his fingers bruise your waist.

“Just like that- so fucking tight-“ He mouths at your collarbone as you sink down and your head falls back as he splits you open.

Soon enough your hips meet his and you moan and dig your nails into Mihawk’s shoulders. He can’t help but shallowly thrust up into you, hot breath fanning over your skin as his instincts seem to overwhelm him. Once you feel ready you work to move your hips in time with his, pulling yourself up and down further on his length.

“That’s it- you’ve been waiting for an excuse to fuck yourself on my cock huh? Proper little doctor- I’ve seen how you- fuck- how you look at me.” You flush with embarrassment and look down to see his golden eyes blown out by darkness.

Maybe you should have some shame, knowing you were seen through so easily, but when he looks up at you like that you can’t think of anything else. You quickly press your lips to his and he seems caught off guard for a second- only to quickly overtake the kiss. One strong hand grips the back of your neck and holds you in place as his tongue slips between your lips. You stay like this until your lungs scream at you and you push yourself back and gasp for air.

You’re about to lean in for another kiss when you notice Mihawk’s gaze quickly dart to the door. You’re confused for a second but soon a loud knocking bounces off the steel door.

“Doctor- status report?” One of the cadets yells through the door and you swear under your breath.

You stop your movements, hoping to catch your breath and sound somewhat put together but Mihawk has other ideas. The second you falter he grabs your hips and starts moving you up and down effortlessly and when you glare at him he only grins up at you.

Seems he still has the mental capacity to be an ass.

“We are-“ You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to stop a moan after a skillfully directed thrust. “We are quarantining until some of my tests are- are done processing.”

There’s a pause before the cadet responds. “Okay… are you alright? You’re not sick are you?”

When one of Mihawk’s hands leave your hips you know something is up and you’re able to bite down on your hand in time to stifle the moan that leaves your body when his skilled fingers find your clit. You’re so close to an orgasm but you fight it back just long enough to get this stupid cadet out of here.

“Quarantine this hallway until my further say- that’s an order!” You yell out and you hope and pray the cadet doesn’t hear the pleasure in your voice.

“Y-Yes!” The voice shouts back and you hope he’s running down the hall because you can’t take this anymore.

“What would your fellow Marines think?” Mihawk’s voice, cruel and playful, rings in your ears. “They’re precious doctor getting fucked stupid by a pirate- fuck you like that don’t you?”

You can only nod, overwhelmed by hick cock and fingers skillfully taking you apart.

“You’re squeezing me so tight- just- need you to cum all over my cock- you can do that can’t you? Cum for me-“ There’s a hint of desperation in his voice and his command breaks any last tethers you were using to hold off your orgasm snap.

Mihawk swears loudly as your walls convulse around him and it’s only seconds later he’s holding your hips down hard against his and spilling inside you. You lay your forehead on Mihawk’s shoulder as you ride out the waves of your orgasm. Even after you catch your breath he’s still hard inside you and you know you’re not done yet.

“I just want to see- hold on.” Is the only warning you get before Mihawk is standing up.

Your legs instinctively wrap around his hips but his strong hands on your ass are more than enough to keep you up. He moves a few feet to the desk, setting you down on it and tapping your thigh once you’re settled. You get the idea and unlatch your legs, letting him slip out and away from you.

“Let me see.” Mihawk says as he pushes your knees apart, eyes transfixed between them. “Fuck.”

He watches as his cum leaks out of you, his fingers quickly scooping it up and shoving it back inside of you. In any other headspace you might think that was disgusting but the way he watches you and is claiming you makes it incredibly arousing. Once he’s satisfied he brings his fingers up to your mouth and you automatically take them between your lips, tasting the mix of your fluids.

“I’m- fuck- you’re perfect.” He seems reluctant to take his fingers from your mouth but the second both his hands are free he’s easily flipping you around and pushing your chest into the desk.

There’s no warning before he’s plunging into you again, your hips roughly meeting the edge of the wooden desk. You don’t really feel the pain amongst the pleasure, oversensitive from your previous orgasm. You feel open mouth kisses pepper your spine as he thrusts into you from behind. While one of his hands stays on your hips- your skin practically indented in the shape of his fingers there now- one reaches down to your thigh, giving it a squeeze before he pushes your leg upwards. The new angle is heavenly as you just let yourself be used- sliding forwards and backwards on the desk with each powerful thrust.

“Need you to- fuck darling I just need you to cum on me again- please I need to feel it-“ Mihawk sounds so desperate, a whine to his voice that he no longer can hide. “Just a little bit more for me-“

Your body seems to crave following his commands and another orgasm is ripped from your sensitive body. Only a few moments later you feel him cum inside you again, and you’re confident at this point he’s dripping out of you onto the floor.

“So good for me- taking all my cum-“ He’s breathless as he pulls out of you again and you don’t need to turn around to know he’s staring at your fucked out hole.

When he actually give you space for a minute you turn your head, still using the table to support your weight. “You feel better?”

“Hm…” His hand skates up your back, soothing you. “Feeling just sated enough to get you back to the room I’m staying in.”

The prospect of going more rounds was overwhelming but you can’t deny that you wanted it more than anything. One problem.

“If anyone sees me I think they’ll figure out some of what happened.” From your messed up hair, the bruises forming on your neck, and the fact that there’s no way you’ll be able to walk normally- yeah it’ll be obvious you were just fucked within an inch of your life.

“Oh doctor.” He pulls you up off the desk and places a surprisingly tender kiss on your forehead. “If anyone else sees you like this I’ll kill them.”

[ikeuverse]

LIGHTHOUSE — p.sunghoon

PAIRING: sunghoon x fem!reader  GENRES: angst, fluff  WC: 3.9k+

WARNINGS: mention of divorce, a bad relationship with his father, a few swear words, lots of kisses.

SYNOPSIS: sunghoon felt lost after his parents' divorce, even more so because he never got along with his father. the only thing that kept him going and guided him to good things was you.

NOTES: i tried to write this angst to see if my creativity comes back. at first i wasn't satisfied with it, but little by little i know i'll start posting again and i want this story to be my starting point. i chose angst bc i've been angsty lately. but i hope you like it!

masterlist

If there were a cliché meter for life's events, yours would surely be overflowing if you were to look at the story of falling in love with your neighbor.

And even worse, if your mother was good friends with his mother and had a little help in the process of bringing the two of you together.

But you wouldn't be cliché about the part where you were never opposed to it, least of all Sunghoon. He loved the idea when his mother told him that the neighbor's daughter was going to spend the vacation there.

He was charmed from the first moment he laid eyes on you. And it wouldn't be any different if you said otherwise because Sunghoon was charming. And neither of you was embarrassed or denied when both mothers complimented or invested a little more.

"Y/n is so pretty, I think you two match" your mother would say to Sunghoon at every opportunity.

"Did you know that I agree with you?" he would reply to your mother with such a charming smile that even after looking in her direction it wouldn't disappear.

This is how your attack on Park Sunghoon began and how much you let him into your life.

Perhaps the cliché part of denying everything and making things slow while you gradually felt your feelings for him grow. Or the cliché of discovering his life through his mother who always met with you in the afternoons, telling you fragments of a life she thought she knew.

Or a Sunghoon she thought was her son, while you painted a completely distorted picture.

But no. It was more interesting to accept that he would take you out for coffee every afternoon after the university study session, talking about life and finding out about it for himself. Hearing from Sunghoon every little thing you wanted to know. Talking about your life and how much you thought you were doing for yourself.

It was nice to discover that you two had things in common, like, for example, that you both decided to give up the dorms at university to move back in with your mother. The case? Unfortunately the same. Your father decided he wanted a divorce long before he knew you were doing well in your course of choice.

Your mother handled it very well, not least because she had wanted a divorce for a long time. Sunghoon's mother, who was going through the same process, wasn't coping so well. Since she still said she liked his father in some conversations they had.

That could be why Sunghoon was so shaken when he said those words out loud, almost destroying his coffee straw when he told you about his parents' divorce proceedings. He never mentioned how much it hurt him because – as his mother was always proud to say – he was a strong boy. And Sunghoon wanted to be that stronghold for his mother.

"Maybe you can share it with me then" you shrugged and tried to smile at him.

It was then that Sunghoon felt he could share things with you without too much worry.

About his parents' divorce, about how much university was killing him, or how he couldn't complete such a simple task. But the one thing Sunghoon couldn't say out loud was how much he was falling in love with you.

He thought that would be the cliché of his life. To be so madly in love with someone and hide it to get it across, but no. Sunghoon didn't want it to go away, he wanted to tell you.

He wanted you to know about every single time you helped him or were there. Or every time the two of you went out together somewhere different and talked about life.

They were always subjects that were too difficult for him to deal with since, at home, Sunghoon wanted to be as light as possible. You thought you wanted to be like that for your mother too, even if her process was a little more relaxed, but showing strength to the woman who brought you into the world and was happy that you were back home was the least of it.

"Hey" Sunghoon's voice snapped you out of your thoughts, the little movie running through your mind from when the two of you first met "What are you thinking about?" he asked.

You looked into his eyes, a glow so intense that you liked it and felt even more comfortable every time you looked at him.

"About when we first met" you let slip, sprawling out even more on the sofa in the house that Sunghoon shared with his mother.

"And was it good for you?" Sunghoon fought the urge to hold your hands.

Even though the two of you were close and intimate enough for this, you knew his limits and even though you felt the same way, you thought it never went beyond casual hugs because he wasn't ready. So you could wait.

"I think it was one of the best things that could have happened to me since I moved back in with my mother."

"Strange" he paused for a moment, you froze in place thinking you'd said something to upset him. But as soon as you turned even more towards him, Sunghoon was smiling "I was going to tell you exactly that."

"Oh, were you?" your question came out low, at a moment when your body almost leaned forward, but Sunghoon was quick to do it first and when you blinked, his face was inches from yours.

That had been a breakthrough for him and you too. Feeling him so close, Sunghoon's breath almost next to your mouth almost made you sigh.

"Sunghoon..." you whispered.

"Yes?" he said in the same tone, raising one of his hands to rest on your cheek. There you knew that another step would definitely be taken.

What you so desperately wanted was about to happen, so you thought you'd put your hand over his. Like a silent request that Sunghoon could move forward.

He did it ever so slowly, lips brushing against yours and ready to be kissed if it weren't for the damn doorbell ringing.

The boy in front of him gritted his teeth in frustration... He'd always lacked the courage, but when he finally decided to do it, he had to be interrupted.

Why couldn't it be later? Just when Sunghoon was about to kiss you after so long.

"You'd better answer that" you still whispered, and even though you didn't want him to leave, the doorbell had been rung once again. It could be important.

"I'll be right back, please don't go anywhere."

As if I could. You almost answered, but he was quick to get up from the sofa and go to the door.

From where you were sitting, you could only see Sunghoon and half the door, not who was outside playing and interrupting the moment you two shared. So you only knew who was there by the words of the boy in your field of vision.

"Dad" didn't take much for you to notice how uncomfortable Sunghoon was. It flipped a switch and you quickly got up from the sofa, pondering whether you should gather your things and leave or wait for him there.

Sunghoon gave you a single glance, which didn't mean much, and left to close the door. Maybe have a private chat with his father while you are there.

To give you even more privacy, you decide to go to the kitchen and get a cup of juice that you were both drinking before deciding on the movie a few hours ago.

That doesn't calm your nerves and curiosity, let alone the uncertainty of what to do.

What was his father doing there? Had he come to talk to Sunghoon about the divorce? Did he come to ask him to move in with him or to tell him that he wants to go back?

Your thoughts were interrupted again by Sunghoon's voice, this time deeper and more serious than when he had called you into the living room.

"Hi" you tried to smile, but as soon as you saw his bright eyes and red face, something was definitely wrong.

You came around the kitchen counter and didn't wait for his permission to wrap your arms around him and pull Sunghoon's body to you. Visibly taller and stronger than you, this didn't stop him from letting you hug him, let alone lowering his head to lay it on top of your head.

The low sighs he let out were an indication that nothing was going right, that he was crying silently and didn't want you to see him like that.

"Hello darlings, I'm home!"

How wonderful, his mother had arrived just when she wasn't supposed to.

Sunghoon let go of your arms and ran up the stairs to his own room before his mother said anything. The hurricane that passed through her was a basic indication that something had happened.

"Are you two all right?" his mother asked as soon as you appeared, looking between your figure and the spot Sunghoon had rushed past.

You just nodded, wanting to be brief at that moment. Even if you knew you'd have to tell them what had happened, Sunghoon probably wouldn't be leaving his room any time soon.

You were right to think that Sunghoon wouldn't be leaving his room any time soon. A whole week without any contact with him, let alone knowing about him when the boy's mother came to your house to talk to his mother.

It made you sad in a way, wondering how you could help him since the problem was always shared with you. But this time it seemed that Sunghoon wanted to get as far away from everything as possible.

Would it be bad to go to his house first? Perhaps a message would suffice before you crawled out from under your covers as the strong wind beat against the glass of your window.

you: hey you: are you okay? i'm worried

Sent.

Read.

He read his message and more than ten minutes passed before Sunghoon could reply. He couldn't be avoiding you, could he?

sunghoon: i'm fine sunghoon: no need to worry

He's never been brief enough with you since you first met. Sunghoon has been frustrated a few times since then, but that was never an excuse or anything for him to treat you like that.

you: want to come here? i kind of miss you...

The message had been sent for forty minutes and there had been no reply from Sunghoon. Right, whatever had happened to his father had certainly stirred something up inside him to make him avoid you too.

You remember his mother saying that Sunghoon didn't talk to her at all during that time, only going downstairs to get his meals and locking himself in his room without any contact with her the whole time.

She even considered calling you to see if you could get him out of there, but considering the messages you and he had just exchanged, surely you'd only get in the way.

"Shit" you cursed softly as your eyes stung and your heart ached more than usual.

This couldn't be happening, you never thought you'd cry for Sunghoon. You never thought you'd follow the cliché of taking it easy and even walking away from your neighbor's son when you had the chance.

Your mental questions were interrupted by the sound of thunder outside, indicating the enormous rain that was beginning to fall. Perhaps this was a metaphor for how watery his eyes were, wanting to wipe the pain from his heart along with the falling rain, wiping away all the bad feelings that had hung over that week.

Feeling that nothing was right and that, at the same time, everything seemed to fit together. If that was the answer to what you – almost – experienced with Sunghoon, it hurt. But you could accept it.

"Damn" you cringed when another thunderclap cut through the sky, at the same moment that your cell phone vibrated on the bed. Two things scaring you in a short period.

You unlocked the device to read the message flashing on the screen.

sunghoon: can you open the door?

Was he downstairs? And in the rain?

You didn't think much of it when you pushed back the covers and ran down the stairs to the front door to open it for Sunghoon. You didn't even consider the possibility that it was someone playing a trick on you, using his cell phone for a bad joke. No, he wouldn't allow that.

Unlocking the door and cringing at every sound of thunder outside, your face lit up at the figure in front of you.

"Sunghoon. Oh God, you're—"

You were going to scold him for being soaked, he knew he'd hear something from you, but he couldn't before doing what he'd come there to do.

The interruption was defeated when his lips pressed hard against yours. Without even thinking, he just pulled you close and swallowed your scream of terror at feeling him completely wet and cold. But at the same time, you relaxed and let him lead.

Giving way when his tongue poked at your lower lip, shuddering at the cold touch his fingertips provided when they touched your cheek.

You didn't mind feeling your clothes getting damp because he was wet from the rain, you just wanted to focus on the kiss that had taken so long but was happening.

It was slow and needy, and that made the feelings of the boy in front of you clearer. Because Sunghoon was kissing you with such need, holding you with such fear that you would leave and slam the door in his face. Sunghoon needed air, he needed to stop kissing you, but it was impossible. And he knew from the day he started fantasizing about it, that he stared at your mouth for too long.

He knew that as soon as he kissed you, it would all be over. He would have to give himself up as he was doing now. Letting out a moan when you plucked up the courage to touch him, tangling your fingers in the wet hair at the nape of his neck and tugging on it when Sunghoon decided to press his body even closer to yours.

"I'm sorry" he whispered against your lips, catching his breath long enough before kissing you again.

Blindly you walked backwards – without letting go of him – into your house until Sunghoon closed the door, turning your bodies to press you against the cold marble that separated the inside of the house from the outside. Protecting you both from the rain.

"I'm sorry, y/n" he repeated when the kiss stopped, his forehead pressed to yours and keeping his eyes closed.

You opened your eyes, looking at his face and now noticing the points you hadn't noticed before.

In addition to the hair falling on his forehead from the rain, his lips reddened from the kiss you shared, his eyes looked bright too. Sunghoon thought that the rain could mask how much time he spent crying in his room, he just didn't count on you knowing him well enough for that.

"I hope you're saying that because you wet all my clothes, not because you kissed me."

His laugh made you smile, leaving another kiss on Sunghoon's lips, from which he took longer than usual to pull away.

"I meant—" you kissed him again, interrupting anything else he might have said.

"Let's go upstairs and change and you can tell me, okay?"

"Okay" he was relieved by the sweet way you were handling the whole thing.

He felt he didn't deserve all that treatment as he went up to your room and stood so as not to wet the bed, waiting for you to find something for him to wear.

It wasn't a big surprise that you had some of your father's clothes because men's sweatshirts were always more comfortable. Sunghoon also had some of his father's, even if that man had to be put out of his mind for the moment.

"Do you mind?" you smiled at him as you brought the garments closer together.

"No" he smiled in thanks "I'll be back in a minute" Sunghoon walked to your bathroom and closed the door behind him to change.

Not that you minded the delay, he knew he'd have his own time to take off the wet clothes and put on the dry ones you'd delivered. But it was inevitable not to think about the last week as Sunghoon looked at his reflection in the mirror.

Noticing how sad he was, reverberating his father's own words in his mind: the real reason for ending all the good feelings he had with him. It triggered a series of bad feelings and the boy only realized it after realizing what a foolish thing he had done by taking you away from him.

Sunghoon had never wanted this to happen, on the contrary, your presence in his life had become the lighthouse he needed to guide him every time he thought of losing himself in the negativity that surrounded him. He hadn't regretted for a second saying the things about his father to you, but he felt ashamed that he had let that man make him fragile enough to lock himself in his own room and live isolated even from his own mother.

You're not going to cry about this, he thought as his eyes threatened to sting again. Sunghoon was ready to go out and find you, all he had to do was run his hands through his hair remove any remnants of raindrops, and take a deep breath before leaving. And so he did.

He found you leaning against the headboard with the remote control in your hand, inside that sweatshirt that he was sure could fit one more of you inside. Your eyes turned away from the TV and your fingers stopped pressing the buttons on the remote when Sunghoon finally appeared.

"Are you all right?" he knew you would ask, and at any moment a decent answer would have to come, other than ignoring you as he was doing.

You allowed yourself to be walked to your bed, not caring when he lazily threw himself over your body, causing you to fall back on the mattress to the sound of his laughter.

"I'm not" he said, lying down on top of you before rolling over to lie next to you "But I'm staying" now the touch of his hand was warm, and it would be even warmer after Sunghoon snuggled under the covers with you. And he didn't even need a verbal invitation for that, the boy had already pulled back the covers so he could get even closer.

His heart felt a little more at peace when your hands touched his face, a caress against his cheek that he so desperately needed. Closing his eyes and letting himself be carried away by the sensation of calm that this brought into the poor heart of the man in front of you.

"My dad" Sunghoon said after a while in silence, knowing that he was the one who had to start the conversation. You were there to reassure him, to make him feel safe and a little better. And since that was happening, it was only fair that he explained himself "He's a big jerk, to be honest."

"Do you want to have this conversation?" the softness in your voice almost made him cry again, feeling guilty for having tried to push you away.

"I do. You need to hear it from me" he opened his eyes without any effort to find your eyes already staring at him. When you nodded, he knew he could continue what he had started at that moment "He's always been rude to my mother, he's always tried to control my life and hers. And the divorce was only in a state of denial because mom thought about how I would feel" silence from you as he spoke, continuing to caress Sunghoon's face with every word "That day he came here, it was to say that he wanted to go back because he heard from my mom that I was supposedly dating."

At that moment, your cheeks burned and you were thankful that the light in the room was illuminated only by the television and, from time to time, the light of the thunder that still echoed outside.

"I didn't allow it to happen and we started arguing. He threw a lot of things in my face and how I would be just like my mother and ruin any shit that came into my life" Sunghoon's voice wavered, he knew he would cry if it wasn't for your lips slowly kissing him. In a strangely good way, it calmed him down, and he didn't let you pull away until he had another kiss "I know I pushed you away, I pushed my mom away too. But it made me very afraid."

"What were you afraid of?" you whispered.

For a good few seconds, the sound of the rain and your breathing were the only thing you could hear. Sunghoon slipped his arms under the blanket so that he could wrap his arms around you, taking advantage of the fact that your mouth was still close enough to kiss once more.

"I was afraid my father was right" if it were possible, he wanted to merge his body with yours as he held you so tightly against him, afraid that you would throw him out of your house "That day I was going to kiss you in the living room, tell you everything I was feeling because I couldn't hold back any longer. But he ruined everything. I ruined everything."

"Hey, hey, hey" you kissed him slowly, ending up with your mouth next to Sunghoon's ear "You didn't ruin anything."

"What do you mean no?" he said back, waiting for you to return to your original position facing him "I pushed you away, I didn't answer. But it's because I was scared, you know? All this is new to me" you wanted to say that you understood why this was mutual "I didn't know how to deal with the proportion of these bad things and I pushed away the only person who guides me through this idiotic darkness of fear, insecurities, and love."

"Love?" you had a half-smile on your face.

Sunghoon's eyes widened when he realized that, in a completely strange way, you were rambling and declaring yourself at the same time. You laughed when he tried to wriggle out of it, saying he didn't know what you were talking about.

"I think we can figure it out together, what do you think?" feeling him so close was giving you a comforting sensation. The smell of Sunghoon getting more and more into your sheets.

"Please, because I don't want to be without you anymore, y/n," he whispered, and it was Sunghoon's turn to move closer and put his mouth to yours "You're the lighthouse of my life, and I've felt lost and confused during this time. I think I need you by my side for all the moments, not just the bad ones."

Sunghoon, in one movement, pondered the weight as it hung over your body and stared into your eyes with every word that came out of your mouth. He saw you smile at that, smiling back.

"Then I'll guide you, Hoonie."

That was all he needed to be able to kiss you more deeply and never let go. Because Sunghoon knew he needed you the second you came into his life. And saying out loud that your arrival was a lighthouse to guide him was surely the best thing you could have heard that rainy night.

© ikeuverse, 2024. do not copy, translate or steal my stories.

[mxigo]

i remember everything (wish i didn't, but i do) | part 3

SERIES SYNOPSIS: logan saved the timeline, but the consequence is that he doesn't remember anything after 1973. now back in 2023, he has missed 50 years of history. including any history of your relationship with him.

WARNINGS: 18+, angst, swearing

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

MINORS & AGE-LESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED. YOUR AGE MUST BE SOMEWHERE IN YOUR BIO OR YOUR BYF.

SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT CHAPTER (COMING SOON)

Finding sleep that night was impossible. You tossed and turned for hours feeling like the darkness was too much and not enough all at once. Every time you rolled onto Logan’s side, your nose was plagued with his lingering scent, sending you into a spiral over and over again.

The next morning wasn’t any easier. While you would have liked nothing more than to continue rotting away in your room and ceasing to exist, you had classes to teach. Getting out of bed took a herculean effort, and your eyes were still puffy from your trip to the lake. You felt essentially hollow while you got ready for the day. You didn’t listen to music, or hum to yourself, or even break the perpetual frown that had taken root on your face. There just was simply no point.

You dressed in your usual flared black slacks and white button up with black heels, rolling the sleeves up to just below your elbow. Then, before leaving, you grabbed the stack of papers you had graded before you left for your mission.

One of the things that you liked about teaching here was that because of the relatively small number of students compared to a usual boarding school, your classroom sizes were small, and you only had three of them to teach. You taught upper-level American Lit classes with a fusion in creative writing that gave your students a bit of freedom in their assignments. And you enjoyed reaching these kids. You wouldn’t trade it for anything.

The hallways were bustling with kids rushing and meandering to their next classes. You didn’t really pay mind to any of them as you made your way to your classroom on the other side of the mansion. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a few of the children side eying you, trying to gauge you and what had transpired in the last twenty-four hours. It wasn’t until you reached the bottom floor did one of them, or rather, a former student, interrupt your solitary walk.

Rogue only joined in silence down the hallway, remaining quiet next to you. While you never did teach her as you had been brought into the fold just a couple years after she had graduated, Rogue became pseudo-sister to you in a sense. Despite the attempt for a cure, she came out stronger and more solidified in herself.

You sighed as you opened the door to your classroom, checking to see if she was still behind you. “Do you need something, Rogue?”

“I heard what happened.” Your heart ached.

“Who hasn’t?”

“If you wanna talk about it—”

“I really don’t want to talk about it, Rogue. That’s the thing. Right now, I’d rather just forget about all that’s happening right now and try to find my sense of peace again.”

The girl gave a sad smile when you turned around. Her hair was pulled back, letting the white streak hang down on its own.

“Well, in that case, would you rather spend your time forgetting at White Raven tonight? I’ve got nothing better to do.”

At that, you raised an eyebrow. It had been a while since you and Rogue had the chance to really catch up and just relax at the local dive, and it actually sounded pretty damn good right about now.

“Who’s driving?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“I’ve got it covered. Don’t worry about it,” is all she said with a ghost of a smirk before disappearing down the hallway into the sea of students.

You were gonna regret agreeing to that, you just knew it.

The rest of the day went by uneventful, thankfully. No other students tried to pry into your relationship status with Logan, and you were able to forget about life for just a moment while teaching about significant pieces of literature during the Civil War.

The sun was just setting behind the trees when there was a knock on your bedroom door while you were putting on a pair of earrings.

 “It’s open!” you shouted, expecting Rogue to be on the other side, here to pester you.

But the universe loved to play jokes on you.

The door opened slowly to reveal Logan holding a bag, and your heart sank while your eyes widened in shock. He peaked in like a timid cat, looking at you like he knew he was stepping over a boundary. He stood awkwardly in the doorway, glancing around the room.

“Do you need something, Logan?”

“Uh, yeah. I just wanted to grab some clothes actually. I only grabbed so many, and uh, kinda running low.”

“Oh. Yeah, go ahead,” you answered, turning back to the floor length mirror to finish getting ready.

You watched out of the corner of your eye as he meandered into your once shared room. He looked over your pictures on the dresser briefly before pulling open his drawers, grabbing some random t-shirts and jeans, stuffing them into the bag. You all but forgot you were getting ready as he stopped and picked up the picture of the two of you at your sister’s wedding just a couple years ago.

It was probably the one picture where Logan was publicly showing affection. The photographer had managed to capture a moment when the both of you were in the center of the dance floor, slowly dancing with the rest of the guests, but it was the way that he looked at you that gave you butterflies just looking at it. He had this soft smile on his face as you rested your head on his chest, your arms wrapped around his neck while his rested on your hips.

It was that night that you were certain that you would be with him for the rest of your life.

Logan set the picture back down, breaking you out of your memory trance. You went back to fixing your hair, trying to push down the wave of tears that threatened to make an appearance at remembering what you lost.

He shut the drawers, his bag full. Before he walked out, though, you spoke up again.

“I can just pack up the rest of your clothes for you, if you want.”

Logan froze just in front of the door, his head turned slightly towards you. He took one step back, meeting your eyes, looked to the dresser, and then back to you.

“Only if you want to,” is all he said before walking out and disappearing down the hallway, closing the door behind him.

~

You were still confused an hour later when you and Rogue were sitting at the far corner of the bar in White Raven, staring through a vodka soda as your finger traced the glass. Rogue was talking about something, but you weren’t quite paying attention until a foot nudged yours. You finally looked up to find her leaning forward and staring at you.

“Earth to Halo, come in.”

You rolled your eyes, letting your hand drop and leaned back into the wooden chair.

“You were saying?”

“You don’t even know what I was talking about.”

“Sure I do. You were talking about one of your classes.”

She gave you a look. “Not even close, sugar.”

You sighed, wiping your hand down your face.

“Can you blame me? There’s a lot on my mind right now.”

“Yeah, and that’s exactly the reason we’re here. To forget about that shit for the night and just be girls again.”

You let your head roll to the side as you raised an eyebrow, considering her words.

“Fine. A round of shots and drinks, and I’ll focus on forgetting.”

“Right away,” she grinned, throwing a wink before looking over towards the bartender to grab his attention.

You sighed, leaning back into the barstool. You couldn’t help but let Logan’s words run on repeat in your head, trying to understand what he meant. He still had feelings for Jean, so there was no reason to still have his clothes in your shared dresser, in your shared room, but he said it was up to you, which made no sense. A small ember of hope wanted to grow warmer, but you refused to let it get any hotter. Things would never be the same between the two of you, and you refused to give yourself hope when heartbreak was inevitable.

It was only a minute longer before two more shots and drinks were set down in front of you and Rogue. The Jameson and peach schnapps looked at you mockingly, and you grimaced at the offending cup as you picked it up. Rogue did the same, catching your reaction.

“What? Don’t like green tea anymore?”

“I’m getting too old for this shit,” you answered before knocking the mix back, taking it in one big gulp. Your faced screwed up as it burned going down, setting the plastic cup across the bar for the bartender to pick up.

Rogue took hers like a champ, as always, shaking her head at the feeling of the burn. “You’re not even that much older than me, Halo, stop acting like you’re my meemaw.”

“I’m old enough for this to bite me in the ass later tonight, and you know it.”

“I do, but that’s why I’ve got a ride arranged for us later.”

You raised your eyebrow at the younger woman, taking a sip from your drink. “You still haven’t told me who it is.”

“And I don’t need to because you’ll be too trashed to give a damn. Now drink!”

The rest of the night melted into a blur as Rogue continued to order shots and drinks for the two of you. She rambled about a mutant that she met on a mission down in Louisiana, and you basically acted like you were listening, but you let your mind drift to Logan once again. It wasn’t like you could just flip a switch in your mind and force yourself to forget about him. You were married, and he was easily the only man that loved you as passionately and deeply as he did, and having that man basically die and still walk around in the same body was going to fuck you up for God knows how long. Maybe forever.

“Haaaaalooooo, you’re nawt listenin’ again.” Rogue’s southern twang was slipping out like it normally did when she wasn’t thinking, or in this instance, drunk. Even though she was the one that enjoyed going out and getting hammered, she did it much faster than you.

“I’ve just got a lot on my mind, Rogue. It’s hard to concentrate these days.”

Her eyes widened, and she leaned forward, drink still in hand.

“Oh, dear God, here I am, r-runnin’ my mouth about men, and I’m nawt even thinkin’ about you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m glad that you’re seeing someone after how things with Bobby ended.”

She became a bit closed off at that comment, letting her eyes drop to the clear liquid in her cup. Her breakup with Bobby was nothing pretty or simple, and both were hurt in the process, but especially Rogue was. Her fears of his feelings for Kitty turned out to be true, but that hadn’t manifested until much later after the breakup, but it still rubbed salt in the wound.

In a way, it was how you felt now about Logan and Jean.

“Yeah, I am too,” she whispered, taking another sip on the straw when her phone began to vibrate on the bar top.

A ridiculous picture of Logan flashed on the screen with his name on top for an incoming call, to which she answered and put him on speaker.

“Hi, Log! Halo and I are still at the bar.”

“I know, I’m outside. You said to pick the two of you up at midnight when it closed.”

Your heart dropped right into your stomach, and your head snapped over to your friend, eyes wide. Rogue, oblivious to your fury, still looked at the phone and continued to talk.

“Right, right. We’ll be out in a minute. Gotta close out. Byyyyye.” She hung up, then turned down the bar to grab the bartender’s attention, still unknowing.

Why the fuck would she ask Logan to pick you up? She couldn’t have asked any other mutant other than the man of the fucking hour?

The bartender placed your tabs down in front of the two of you, to which you threw down some twenties and called it a night. Rogue was still oblivious as she got up from her seat, but you grabbed her wrist, stopping her in her tracks.

“You asked Logan to DD for us? Why not Scott, or Ororo, or fucking Piotr?”

Her face screwed up before she laughed at your panic.

“Because he offered.”

“What the hell do you mean he offered?”

“I meeeaaan, he overheard me ask Scott to drive us, but when Scott said he was busy, Logan offered to drive us instead. It’s just a fifteen-minute ride back to the mansion, Hay. It won’t kill you.”

Your mouth dropped as she all but sauntered up to the front door, leaving you behind. You couldn’t help but groan aggressively in frustration, following her out the door.

Lo and behold, driving one of the many cars of Xavier’s, was Logan leant up against the sleek black paint of still-running vehicle. Rogue stumbled out of the door happily, a drunk smile plastered on her face as she approached her father figure. Logan looked down at her warmly as she stopped in front of him, swaying a bit on her feet.

“Looks like you had a bit to drink.”

“Well I could have had more if someone,” she turned her head to throw a look at you over her shoulder, “had let us start off hard like we used to.”

“One of us has to be semi-responsible when we’re out together, and it was my turn.”

“You only say that for reasons I can’t talk about right now,” she mumbled as she opened the car door and climbed into the backseat.

An awkward silence stretched into the night as her words hung in the air. It wasn’t hard to figure out what she was referring to, and Logan spent more than just a second staring at the ground where Rogue’s feet were before looking at you. A guilty look passed over his face as he took in your less than trashed appearance.

“Sorry for uh…keeping you from enjoying yourself.”

“Don’t feel so flattered,” you retorted as you went to climb into the backseat as well, only to find the other woman sprawled out on the leather seats, completely passed out.

Fuck it.

You pushed past Logan and pulled the handle to the front passenger seat, dropping in and all but slamming the door closed. You wanted nothing more than for this night to be over and evaporate it from your recent memory.

Logan’s bootfalls crunched upon the gravel parking lot as he walked around to the driver’s side, opened the door, and settled in. He shut the door behind him, and pulled out of the parking lot, leaving White Raven behind you. You focused everything to not focus on him and the fact that you were now in a car, essentially by yourselves as Rogue was out cold in the backseat. You couldn’t help but wring your hands continuously as you fought to look at him, keeping yourself to staring out the window. It’s only been a couple days, but your body already missed being so close to him, and it ached not being able to touch him. Hence, you were wringing your hands to simulate the sensation.

You could feel Logan’s gaze weigh heavy on you. It caused your hair to stand on end on your neck. In a moment of weakness, you let your eyes glance over to him, just to find that he had looked to your own at the same moment. Those hazel irises stared into yours so softly, yet intently. It stole the breath out of you, and you couldn’t help but stare back. He looked at you like he was taking you in for the first time and understanding who was in front of him.

And of course, it was at this moment that Rogue decided to wake up.

“Are we home yet?” she groaned, leaning into the space between the driver and passenger seat, snapping the two of you out of whatever trance you had been in.

You jumped, snapping your gaze from his and forced yourself to go back to staring out the window.

“Yeah, Rogue, just a few more minutes,” Logan mumbled.

The rest of the drive back to the mansion, you still felt his eyes on your form.

a/n: tbh i have no idea what this is, just kinda threw it together before the motivation disappeared

~

taglist: @facelessfionna @pop-rocks-and-skittles @littledebbieinabigworld @levislegislation @bontensbabygirl @bubblegumholland @droopingdatura @lulawantmula @badbishsblog @spideybv28 @labellapeaky @annagraceevanss @khaylin27 @enchantedbutterflies @officiallydumbass123 @madloveformurdock

if i didn't tag you, please make sure you have an age in your bio. if you do and i still didn't, dm me and i'll make sure to add you to the next one.

[taiyouhimerich]

wow yeah im stealing my own cai bot is this what they call creativity????

“Smells like sweet home”

Husband! Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader

tags and warns: aaaw cmon just a bit of soft thing, it colds even be safe for work! but with just a little bit of mention of sexual interaction, so still 18+ mdni!!!

psss gonna make part 2 w/ aomething morrrrre

Words count: 1,4k (and yes thats alot for me)

Leon never needed much from life: he dreamed about what all American men probably dream about. You know, a white picket fence, a housewife always waiting for him at home and ready to welcome him after a hard day's work, and a couple or triple adorable children who would run up to him, hugging him, missing their daddy. And for a long time it seemed to him that all these dreams were shattered the moment he ran over the barricades on the road leading to Raccoon City.

But that belief was shattered the moment he saw you. Beautiful, graceful, soft, just perfect for him, how could he not notice you among all the crowds of these gloomy, rude, cruel people? He felt like an insecure teenager again, noticing the most beautiful girl in school, a feeling he hadn't had in a couple dozen years. Courting you was ordinary, romantic, but nothing fancy, but it still won your heart. Or maybe it was the way a grown-up man blushed and sweated like a puberty boy when he saw you, you don't know for sure, but it was definitely something that made you start dating him.

If you ask him now, he would say that he does not even remember what happened until the moment when he knelt in front of you, taking out a modest but beautiful ring in a velvet box from his pocket. Standing in front of you at that moment, he was thinking that he didn't know what he would do if you said no, and you could swear that you saw tears in his eyes when you agreed. Your fiance looked like a tiny puppy, wagging his tail and running around his owner with joyful barking while you put on your wedding dress, asking him to stay close and help with the corset at the same time. You were amazing: the beautiful white fabric flowed over your body as if you were doused with milk, and several layers of tulle under your skirt made your figure even more magnificent. He hugged you tightly after he was done with the lacing, while you tried to chase him away, laughing kindly, saying something about you needing your personal time, when she leaned into your ear, tucking a strand of your hair before whispering.

“Then let it be as you say, I'll give you your so-called personal time, because from the first second of our honeymoon, I won't let you go for even a moment....”

And he didn't lie, he never lied to you, because no matter how much you both wanted to go to an Indonesian beach or watch flamingos, you couldn't get out of bed. Oh, how you fucked, all the food you ate was from room service, you were on the bed, on the floor, in the luxurious bathroom, even on the balcony at night, you did everything you could think of while Leon pressed against you, kissing under your ear, pleading, but deep voice purring.

“Just one more time, Mrs. Kennedy.”

Mrs. Kennedy did something incredible to you, and you succumbed over and over and over again, allowing him to enjoy you, his beloved woman, his wife... and considering how furiously he thrusted into you, the mother of his children at the same time. So neither of you were surprised when, a month after your honeymoon, your period didn't come, and the next day you saw two stripes on the test. Even twice, so that the results are for sure. You heard the joke that two positive tests mean two children, it was from Leon when he joked about it, and you slapped him on the back of the head, making him laugh, but when doctor told you at the first ultrasound that you were going to have twins, you were both shocked. In a pleasant shock, to be precise.

And this was the moment that he loved to remember every time he returned home to his dear wife, unlocking the front door with keys so quietly that his newborns would not wake up. Most of all, he wanted to throw his bag on the floor right in the hallway, along with his unbuttoned uniform, and fall on the bed, without a shower and dinner, although dinner at three in the morning is a terrible idea. When he lets out a tired sigh, hearing his vest release his chest, falling to the floor with a soft booming thud, he hears the rustling and creaking of your bedroom door, immediately tensing up and turning his head in that direction. A smile paints his face with happiness when you come out to him, in a pink fur robe and slippers in the form of pugs, coming closer, and slightly timidly spreading your arms in an invitation to a hug.

“My pretty one....” He mumbles, taking a step towards you and wrapping you in a tight hug, letting you bury your forehead in his shoulder.

“I missed you, Lee....”You gently stroke his back, running your palms over his shoulder blades when you feel his kiss in your hair. You can't help but giggle softly, kissing him somewhere on the jaw, feeling his unshaven stubble with your lips. It makes you laugh again and pull away, putting your hands on his chest with a smile. “Unscathed?”

“Kinda. A little injuries here and there, but nothing I couldn't handle, you know me.”He laughs hollowly, placing his palms on your forearms to pull you closer and kiss your cheek. “I missed you too... and our little ones.... How are they?”

“Scott is just perfect, and Melissa has become more moody in recent days.” You respond by sighing softly while his kisses make you giggle. “She is not so willing to being fed with breast, I have to use a pumper.... God, there's too much of you in this girl, you know.”

Leon laughs, quietly, so that God forbid not to wake up your children. “I don't think I've ever been able to give up on your breasts.”His lips continue to shower kisses on your face as he gradually descends to your neck, pushing back the collar of your robe. Huh. He even remembers the times when you met him in a red silk nightgown and black lace underwear… Well, after the wedding and pregnancy, your wardrobe has changed significantly. But that doesn't mean it's bad for him. Come on, he likes how homely you are!

His lips find your collarbone when he runs his tongue over your skin, sucking greedily, under your quiet but ringing giggle, and it makes you let out a soft moan. Your hands find his head with a familiar movement, intertwining with his hair as you mumble. “I don't think I've ever offered you...”

“Do you want to do it now?”His cheeky grin is audible even when you can't see his face, while he buries his head in the neckline of your robe, nuzzling into the cleavage between your breasts. He knows for sure that you will slap him on the back of the head, confusedly mumbling something about how it's something perverted, but he can't help but inhale, closing his eyes and soaking up the smell of your boobs. Those round soft tits, all big and swollen because of the milk, smelling of sweet, warm this very milk.... His children, his precious daughter and son, smell the same scent because your milk is what is always around them, so this smell is so cozy, homely, relaxing him and making him forget about all those horrors he looked at during his missions....

That's where he ends up, but not because you push him away, no. He stays between your boobs, continuing to take this bath of your milky scent until he feels... ashamed. When this process heals his mental wounds enough for him to think more sensibly, he realizes how embarrassing this thing really is. That he's literally obsessed with your boobs and sniffing them like some kind of pervert. He feels the warmth of your chest against his face for a little longer, and then pulls away, straightening up and straightening your robe. He can't help but squeeze them lightly in his palms, and before you can say anything, he looks away, clears his throat, and pats you on the shoulder, walking around you and muttering.

“Gonna check on ours.”

Later, you will find this tough, exhausted man sitting on the floor between the cradles of your children, sticking only his fingers between the partitions to hold each of the babies by the palms. A soft smile spreads across your tired face. What a cutie. All of them.

definitely p2 guys i just feel ashamed to make it as a one pretty big post, so I splitted that…..

[inkblotsinkblots-alt]

My experience with [band]

My experience with [band] and [band]'s management starts in April 2022. I had emailed the band's business email that used to be in their bio in December 2021, and in April 2022 I got a response. I had been asked if I was available within the next couple of weeks to come down to Brighton and do a photo shoot with the band. Management really liked my work, and wanted to work with me. I was asked to provide my rates and any expenses that would incur. I had asked if I would be at least credited for these images on social media (tagged etc ...), and management said that they could not commit to that at that time. This photo shoot did not happen.

I worked with [band] for the first and only time in January 2023 and photographed / videoed their set.

I was completely blindsided by the fact that this could’ve been a huge opportunity for me, and it could change my career completely. When I got the email inviting me to work with the band, I screamed and actually worried my parents for a few minutes. I agreed to terms that I shouldn’t have (not a full written agreement, but various statements in emails). In hindsight I had no clue what some of them meant (and I think the band’s management knew that).

There was no formal contract, only emails. The band would own my photos 'in perpetuity' and when I asked what that meant, they (management) said that 'the band have the freedom to use them however they please'. Making money off of my photos, and putting them on merch that they would then sell out of, was not mentioned. I was under the impression they would only be using the photos on social media as I did not get any clarification, even though I asked for it. I wanted to press for a more detailed answer, but I was afraid that I'd lose the job.

This was never about the money that I'd potentially make from having my photos on merch, it's that I didn't even know it was happening. I was also 'allowed' to upload '3-4' photos to my social media from the gig, even though they were my photos. I was stupid enough to agree with this. Again, I felt as though if I challenged this I would lose the job.

At the end of the show in January 2023 I was promised at least a couple of shows on the upcoming tour, as '[I was] great to work with. Such a pleasure.' I have no evidence that I was offered shows during that tour as it was said to me in person. I was then let down at the beginning of March (after multiple follow up emails) with 'I don't think there is the additional need for your services also' when I asked about discussing the tour. I was devastated.

I was offered photo passes* to subsequent Manchester gigs and I took them as they had no strings attached, and the band would not own my images (that's why you've seen a lot of them on my socials).

I met a bunch of well-known creators, musicians and photographers while working with [band] and they were all so very sweet. Some of which I am still in contact with today, and some I am good friends with. I am very grateful for this.

I fully support Shelby, she is so incredibly brave for talking about her experiences, and it's because of her bravery that I felt confident enough to share my experience - although very different in nature.

I fully believe that [band]’s management wanted to take advantage of fans who wanted to photograph [band]’s gigs. And pay them as little as possible with no consistency in pay between photographers or how many photos they were allowed to post. (This is my own opinion)

I am not the only one that has had a negative experience with [band] and their management as a photographer / creative, but those are not my stories to tell and if they want to comment then they will. Please don't speculate on who these people are or harass them on social media, they have every right to not want to talk about their experiences. Please respect everyone involved.

Massive love, take care of yourselves.

am

(*Photo passes are offered to press photographers and non-touring photographers. They shoot the first three songs from the photo pit and then leave. Either to go into the crowd for the rest of the gig, or leave the gig entirely.)

please do not edit this post or reblog, do not take screenshots and post this on twitter or any other social media platform, thank you.

[sboochi]

Listen, I like the idea of human!Star as much as the next person, but that's the point. I like the idea in my head.

To be honest, if this was the direction the creative team had gone with, I probably wouldn't enjoy it to this level. So it can stay in my head.

Anyway, I liked the movie! More opinions down below.

People are acting like it's the biggest disgrace ever happened to the animation industry and it feels..... so over-dramatic?? The movie isn't perfect, of course, but chill, have y'all forgotten about the emoji movie???

Also reading some people's comments feels like they don't want anyone to enjoy the movie, which sucks. I mean, I checked the tag here and it was An Experience.

Personally I liked:

Asha's little friend group! "But they don't have a real personality" boohoo the httyd and big hero 6 gangs didn't have more than 1 trait and nobody ever complained this much

The visuals were gorgeous. I guess this is personal taste but I LOVED the watercolor-esque backgrounds

I liked the songs, especially At all costs and This wish. I don't have a problem with the lyrics because I haven't listened to the soundtrack in English, but I've never really cared about lyrics anyway

Magnifico was a delight (evil arc my beloved)

There are a few things I would have handled differently, but again, it's taste:

Please let us have a protagonist with a very different personality from the usual Disney Heroine. Give me shy, give me nerd, give me sassy

I was hoping the queen's decision to side with Asha would be harder to make. I would have showed her struggle with her love for Magnifico and her people, I want the d r a m a

Poor Asha's mom deserved better

I know it's frustrating seeing all this negativity, but I think it'll die down with time. People were shitting on Moana and Zootopia too, at first. Hating this movie with passion is just the latest trendy opinion (you know those. You've probably seen them on tiktok)

(Please note I'm only talking about Wish. The "Disney the company" topic is too big for one post)

TLDR Wish isn't perfect, people just like to be mean. You're allowed to like it, whether others agree or not