#lifetime risk of stroke

[partialbirthabortion]

I experience migraine with aura, and I've heard I should avoid hormonal birth control because it can increase your risk of stroke. Is this true? Should I go for the copper iud over a hormonal iud? I've also heard the copper iud can make your period worse and can hurt more when it's inserted. It can be so hard to parse what is true about birth control. Thanks.

You should avoid certain types of hormonal birth control, but the hormonal IUD is not one of them! The Depo shot, the Nexplanon arm implant, both types of IUDs and even the progestin only pill are all safe for you. You should avoid the combination (estrogen + progestin) pill, the patch, and the vaginal ring. Those are the most common prescription birth control types in the US and Canada, but let me know if you have questions about another type.

One of the mechanisms of the copper IUD that protects you from pregnancy is the heavier, crampier periods that most users experience. I've actually never heard that it hurts more to insert - I think the diameter is the same as the 8 year hormonal IUD and that means they're probably equivalent. However, if you have never been pregnant before and especially if you are younger or smaller, there are five year hormonal IUDs like the Skyla and Kyleena that are designed to be easier to insert for patients whose cervix has never dilated. You should go for whichever one sounds best to you! Both will cause on and off cramping and bleeding for the first few months after insertion, but ultimately a hormonal IUD should make your periods lighter or go away all together. It does make some women experience dryness or more frequent BV. The copper one definitely causes heavier cramping and bleeding, but it stops for some after the first year.

[cu7ie]

ა˚₊﹕take your time. ⊹

cw: virgin reader, gn!reader, don't even ask me what dimension this miguel is from. miguel being a good partner, unintentional teasing, reader is just shy! an: first miguel fic! woo!!! totally dedicated to @buttress atp

You still can't look at him.

-

You've been dating Miguel for months at this point. You're not moved in together (yet), but see each other as often as possible, spending nights in his apartment, folded under his arm and leg tucked between his.

He's very familiar with you, perhaps more so than you are him. Knows what you look like when you're positively elated, seen those so hard smiles that afterward you're complaining your cheeks hurt. 

He's seen utter devastation, too. You'd mourned the loss of your dear departed cat in his arms, sobbing and snotty and cloyingly tender. Must've cried all the water out of your body that day, soaked the whole front of his shirt (the one time he chose to wear white) before dying off into the most pitiful whine. You'd grown too small to support yourself.

So he helped.  Reassured you gently with the strokes of his hand along your back, getting you water, making sure you ate, spending the night at your house …

And you two have been dating for a while now. You've seen his highs and lows too.

Hardly this kind of low though. 

-

He's seen you naked before. Not enough for this lifetime, but definitely on more than one occasion. 

You're still so bashful.

When he joins you in the shower you can barely meet his eye, washing the front of his chest tentatively while he gently massages shampoo into your hair.

You get flustered when he catches you changing, covering your chest with your shorts and risking a friction burn with how fast you force your jeans past your thighs. 

Your affections usually stop at kissing. It's clear to him you're interested, but you always seem unsure to start. You're a little self conscious, nervous about the space between you two - and right when it starts feeling better than just good, you pull away. 

It's kind of like edging, bordering on torture, but Miguel knows how to be patient. 

Eventually, you come back to him.

-

Before he found himself two fingers deep in you, you had ask him to fuck you once before. 

Almost verbatim.

"Fuck me."

and, regardless of the fact that his cock jumps a little as you whisper it so close to his lips, 

It sounds so strange falling from your lips like that. Abrupt and sudden like a clap of thunder in the dead of night, and his eyebrows shoot up - as quick as residual lightning.

Maybe the look on his face was what faltered you. The way his pupils constrict then dilate like he's really looking at you, into your depth, and probing for your intention with a breathy, "You sure?" 

And you nod, a little slow.

"Y-yeah. Certain."  Miguel arches his brow skeptically, lips quirking into a half-smirk as he turns his body to face you, his head leaning to the side as he looks you up and down slow enough to make you second guess. "Of course, Cariño - as you wish." And admittedly he's a little cruel, enjoys the way you curl in on yourself, imagines the heat burrowing into the apples of your cheeks, watching your breath catch in your chest as you stare him down. The moment lingers.

"Show me then."  He props his arm onto the couch as his posture relaxes, his expression no greater than his polite smile, which still feels goading, in a way. "Show me how badly you want me to fuck you." 

He knows right away you got a little too facey. You're a shih tzu glaring down a rottweiler and you've forgotten how to bark. It always gets caught up in you, desire tangled up in a net of worry, doubt. Can see it in your eyes, the way your lip dips down before you tuck it beneath a tooth, the aura of your gaze becoming more shadowed, more sensual.

"I'll… I'll show you."

"Mhm. 'Course you will." 

Your finger hops up a little. You don't know where to put your hands so his thighs serve as a placeholder as you push yourself into his lap, the supple flesh of your lips meeting his, and,

 ooh, his chapstick is lemon flavored.

Your kiss is so dear to him. It's dainty, lightens his heart because you're too shy for tongue kisses at first. 

Or maybe you just don't know how. Still,

You slowly build yourself up to it that night.

Cautiously, your mouth parts a little more, ushered into a new sensation as your tongue maps out the roof of his mouth, the ridges of his teeth, slowly feeling him rise to the occasion, raising your chin and humming pleasantly into your mouth. Your eyes fluttered shut, your arms coming up to wrap around the back of a pleasantly surprised Miguel's neck, and he moves to settle you in his lap.

Miguel's skin feels smooth to the touch.

He’s moved you to the bedroom, urged you to wrap your legs around his hips as he took the liberty of digging his fingers into your soft ass, irritatingly thin shorts keeping him from getting to feel you for real. You're convincing him well enough so far, your skin rippling hot wrought iron left in the sun, and the burn on his skin is delicious - so when he's ready to eat,

When he's spreading you out on the bed and has your shorts around your thighs,

He notices you're not looking. Your breaths are shaky and fast, eyes welded shut, cheek turned and smushing into your pillow. You're still apart from the light tremble in your thighs, your legs dangling over the side of the bed as he adjusts his position on his knees, face partially curtained by your thighs as his arms curl up under them to tug your sex closer to his waiting lips.

"Ay." He gives your leg a healthy shake, jolting you out of your stupor. "Still want me to fuck you?" There's amusement bleeding into him again, but his eye is measured, patient. You blink an eye open, look down at him, his head between your legs,

The predatory, slow lick of his lips makes your hair stand on end, and you buck up, propping yourself up on shaky elbows. “Miguel…” 

“Hm?” He breathes so close to you that blood doesn’t know where to rush, to your head or between your legs. The dull throb of arousal that lances through you excites and terrifies, a nervous whine wheedling its way from between your lips, makes MIguel stop again. He feels your knees shake a little, still only one eye open. 

On the inside, budding frustration. There are two wolves - the desire to be cool, calm, and reassuring clashes with its twin, the overwhelming desire to have what he wants and do as he pleases. He sighs, and represses the second urge.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes, really.” You breathe in good for once, a relieved sigh as he pulls your underwear back up and pats your thigh, maintaining a pleasant expression while on the inside the mourns what should have been, imagines the feeling of you stretched around his cock - the tightness of your warmth, fucking in and out of you and hearing you squeal as he rolls his hips, adjusts his pace.

Tucks his fantasy away till it's only remnant is the hard-on he's trying to will away as you beckon him to join you under the sheets.

But he’s patient above all. Joins you on the bed and holds you close, burrowing his head into your shoulder as your wrap your arms around his back, 

And he leaves it alone.

-

'Could blue balls kill a man?'

He's not proud of his Google search history -

But it's been a couple weeks since he managed to get that far with you, and his hand hasn't been cutting it for a while now. And Miguel can sure as hell pretend he's not feeling as carnal as he is - that the chip on his shoulder is his increasing responsibility at Alchemax, the diminishing of his free time, lack of sleep …

But he feels no rage more potent than after he's came into his hand for the 5th time in two days, holding a shirt or a pair of your underwear up to his nose and huffing like it's paint. He's never been a junkie, but sometimes he's shaking he's so mad, that there's not more of you, enough of you, none of the soft, real parts of you.

And it's not your fault. You'll be ready when you're ready, and he just has to accept he might not make it to see that day.

But fast forward to right before bed that night. Yellow lampshade that turns the warm light dim, moonlight pressing through murky clouds and filtering into the window above the bed you two share. 

You still take showers together, but now you linger behind to wash properly while he settles into his normal routine, playing with his balls and turning his head into your pillow. 

He sighs to the sound of the creaking door, dripping water falling softly to the floor as you, towel wrapped around your naked body, step closer toward the bed.

You move from the front of the room, to the foot of the bed, til you're hovering over his side of the bed, this look in your eye like you've made up your mind about something. "What?" He flicks his head up, drowsy but not yet asleep.

"I think m'ready." Miguel blinks the tired out of his eyes and looks up, confused.

"What? Whaddaya mean you're ready?" 

"I mean," the towel falls, and he sees your bare body - your skin still dewy from your shower, glistening in the light. "I'm ready to fuck you. For real this time."

"Oh? So you're fucking me now?" He sizes you up a second, before you're crawling over him, straddling his hips as your bare intimates are flush against his groin, your butt pressing softly into his cock as he gets a half chub, not wanting to fully commit yet, but you're not letting up …

And that's how he got here. Two crooked fingers deep, up to the second knuckle, scissoring your hole open and hearing all these new noises - ones he's never had the chance to hear until now. You're accepting of his touch, but seem unwilling to fully express how bad he's got you - your wrist folded over your mouth, every moan sludging itself in your throat because you won't let it be free. You won't let him hear it.

Your back’s on the bed and he’s laying on his side next to you, over top of you, and he has the perfect view of your cute face and ditzy expression, your eyes pinched shut as you mutter something behind your hand, cut short as he curves his finger inside. “Miguel!”

“What is it querido? I’m a little busy here…”  Two fingers deep and you’re not as resistant as he’s expecting, so he feeds you a third promptly and it does not go unmissed how you clamp down on him tighter, your shuddering groan so lewd it almost beats the rational thought of preparing you out of his head. 

The only thing keeping him from mounting you then and there is your inexperience. Laid bare for him in this moment, he rubs his erection against your side brazenly, distinctly unashamed with letting you know how badly he wants you.

“Have you been touching yourself, carino? You’ve been preparing yourself for me?” You inhale shakily, and Miguel slows his pace so you don't have an excuse, any reason to not answer. You're so adorable when you're embarrassed. A little wetness in your eye, and usually you get all pouty like you might cry,

But he's doing something alien to you, pressing up into your sensitive walls, eliciting a brand new reaction he's sure he quite likes. 

You sniffle and answer slow. "A little… I was j-just practicing!" Your voice pitches up again, and instead of making his way further in, or adding a fourth finger, he stops. 

So abruptly you whine, arch your back in irritation and only then do you look at him, see the shadows that have settled over his face,

and isn't he feeling a might slick, having reduced you to jerking limbs and whimpering and moaning in what felt like a few minutes, though he doesn't have it in him to feel smug. 

Just hungry. 

"...Miguel." Barely a whisper. Only because it's you does he hear it. "Be gentle with me, please."

"Yeah." The single syllable is drawn out, curving into a growl, husky and deep unlike any noise a man ought to make.  "Right. Gentle."

[yandere-daze]

I thought it was high time that I finally wrote something for this man and this idea was stuck in my head for days. I hope you enjoy! <3

gn reader

2.3k words

cw yandere, obsessive behaviour, hypnotizing siren song, manipulation

Yandere! Siren! Sunday x Sailor! Reader

You weren´t supposed to be anything more than an easy prey. A human led astray by his enchanting tunes like any other, only to be torn apart once within reach.

You were a simple sailor sailing the deep waters of the ocean with your small crew. For what purpose? Sunday wasn´t quite sure and he didn´t really care to know. All he yearned for was sinking his claws into your vulnerable flesh as he dragged you to the bottom of the ocean.

You see, Sunday was a siren, a hunter in the image of a beautiful young man with grey hair and enchanting golden eyes. Were it not for his singing voice, a deep gaze into his radiant eyes would be enough to tempt any poor fool into his waiting arms. Yet his voice, oh his voice, its heavenly sound masking his dark intentions.

Within his lifetime, Sunday has lured many unfortunate sailors to their demise though, in recent times, fewer and fewer boats have delved through the waters he called his home. From what he had witnessed being whispered onboard, tales of cunning and vicious sirens roaming these waters have reached the mainland, causing many to steer clear and avoid this place.

This naturally annoyed Sunday, for the flesh of humans was what he sustained himself with. This fact only increased his determination when after quite a long while of waiting for a sign of life, a boat had finally lost its way into his domain again. Sunday had been hungry for way too long now, he couldn´t let this stroke of luck go to waste.

So certain that he would finally claim his prey again, he decided to first spy on the passengers of the boat before making his move. It was important for him to know the routines and habits of the sailors if he wanted to catch them alone to entice them to run into their doom.

As a siren, Sunday was more powerful than an average human but even he wouldn´t be able to fight off several sailors if he were to try and hypnotize someone in broad daylight. He couldn´t risk the crew becoming aware of his presence and leaving, he couldn´t go on without another meal again.

And so, he secretly started spying on the passengers of the small boat, staring at them from behind a rock and making sure to keep his tail concealed within the water. He watched everyone go along with their days on board the ship when something unexpected happened.

He saw you, stepping away from the rest of the crew to stand near the edge of the boat, a smile on your face as you let the sun shine on your face. Without even realizing it, you had stepped close to where Sunday had gone to hide. You were so close, almost within arm´s reach. For a moment, Sunday deliberated if this was his chance to strike.

With you separated from the rest of the crew like this, it would be a simple thing indeed to lure you into the waters where you would disappear forever.

But just as he thought this, he stopped in his tracks as he watched your carefree smile, suddenly becoming enchanted by the way the light of the sun rained upon your skin. For lack of a better word, your presence at that very moment was mesmerizing and Sunday felt warm inside as if the rays of the sun were descending on him instead.

And then, for a moment, Sunday almost felt his heart stop for then you opened your mouth and started, he almost couldn´t believe it, singing.

There you were, practically within the jaws of a predator, and letting your soul rejoice in song so carelessly. And yet, within your naivety, Sunday couldn´t help but feel at peace. Your song rang out across the lonely waters, unaware that your secret audience was becoming more and more enchanted by you by the second.

Your singing, Sunday couldn´t quite describe it. It sounded nothing like his own singing, which was beautiful and yet felt intrinsically wrong somehow. Your song was nothing like that. It might have not been as pretty or practiced as his own singing, but yet it managed to ring true within his heart. Your song felt earnest and real, untainted and uncorrupted by malice. Within seconds, you had captured his attention and heart, yet you were completely unaware that he was even present.

In an ironic twist of fate, Sunday felt himself being pulled towards you as if touched by magic, an ardent longing for you deep within his chest. It was as if you were the siren calling out to him, beckoning him closer like a lovesick sailor lost at sea, yet Sunday was sure that instead of a sudden demise, he would find true salvation within your arms. With the way you were holding out your arms, he could almost imagine you wrapping them around his body in a lover´s embrace, pulling him so close as if you would never let go of him again.

Because he knows that´s what he would do if he finally had his beloved in his arms. For only a fool would ever let go of the person they want to spend the rest of their life with. It filled him all at once, this desire to have you for his own, to make you his dearest mate.

You were radiant and joyful in a way he had never seen before and he couldn´t bear the thought of letting you slip away from him.

And from the desperate yearning he could so clearly hear in your song dedicated to just him, he knew that you must feel the same way. You were just waiting, begging to be taken away by him. Why else would you walk so close to him, all on your own and profess all of your feelings like this? Sunday now knew that this meeting was fated to happen and he would be sure not to waste it.

He had been watching you closely for the past few days along with the other sailors aboard the ship and he saw how the other crew members acted around you. He had thought nothing of it back then but now boiling jealousy filled his being as he remembered how chummy they had been acting with you. How they had laughed and joked around with you so easily, how they had thrown their arms around you and sang cheery tunes beneath the starry sky.

He especially detested that one scoundrel that had dared to kiss your cheek so invasively. How dare they treat you like this? How dare they lay their filthy hands on you when your beauty was meant for solely him to treasure? But not to worry, Sunday would finally bring you home and keep you safe.

He understood your surprise when he finally emerged from his hiding spot and started swimming towards you. You looked so pitiful with your body shaking and your eyes growing wide when you saw his shimmering white mermaid tail. You poor thing must be frightened out of your mind because of all these stories you were told about his kind but do not be afraid! Sunday would never hurt you like this.

You were special to him, you just needed to allow him to show you that. You backing away from the railing, backing away from him, just wouldn´t do.

"Darling, there is no reason to be afraid, I´m not here to hurt you, do not let their horrid tales corrupt your thoughts. I am here to finally take you home!" He reached out his hands to you, wishing for you to jump into them and accept his love willingly yet he could only click his tongue in disappointment when instead, you took another step back.

"D-don´t come any closer!", you shouted out, breaking the poor siren´s heart in the process. How it hurt him to see you so frightened that you would turn your soulmate away. But no matter, he was prepared to take matters into his own hands and nudge you towards your own happy ending. You just needed a little bit of convincing.

"My darling, please listen to me! You and me, I know we were meant to be! So please don´t resist this, alright?", he hummed gently, his voice almost pitiful while begging you to hear him out.

You would have even felt sympathy for him if you weren´t acutely aware that you were facing a dangerous predator. There was no doubt in your mind that this was a siren and you needed to get away from there fast.

But unfortunately for you, you weren´t quick enough for as soon as you had gathered your resolve, Sunday´s ethereal singing voice had swiftly broken it down.

Suddenly, all your previous thoughts about him being a danger to stay away from evaporated, leaving you confused as to why you ever wanted to run away from him. There was nothing dangerous about him, was there?

Instead, your mind was now being filled with pleasant images of you and the siren spending time together, of him holding you close protectively, of him swearing his eternal love and kissing you. All of a sudden, you felt warm all over as you gazed deep into Sunday´s eyes and you knew that he was the one that was meant for you.

Slowly, one step at a time, you walked closer to the edge of the boat again, where Sunday was happily holding out his hands for you to take, eagerly grasping at air as if to usher you even closer.

And you were all too eager to follow his demands as a sugary sweet melody droned on and on in your ears, overwhelming you with feelings of everlasting love and devotion.

"That´s it, darling. Come closer. It´s only a few more steps.", he urged you on, almost desperately as you almost came into touching range. It was only a few more moments until he could finally have you in his arms. And once he did, he would never allow you to leave him again. Not that you would be able to underwater.

Voices were picking up in the background, quickly getting closer and Sunday realized that your crew must have picked up on what was happening.

"Come here quickly, darling!", he shouted, his voice growing more urgent and desperate the closer the booming voices got.

And you did as he said, quickening your steps towards him with a lovesick smile on your face.

"I´m almost there, my love", you said and Sunday´s heart almost burst at the sweet tone you took with him. He knew you were currently under the influence of his siren song but he strongly wanted to believe that the love you felt for him was real. Why else would you too be looking at him so full of yearning?

"Someone, quick! Grab on to them! That siren is trying to lead them to their death!", a gruff voice yells from the back with several more footsteps scrambling quickly behind. They were advancing on you fast and Sunday knew he was almost out of time as one quickly ran up to you.

"No, no, no! Don´t touch them! They´re mine! Don´t ruin this for me!", he yelled out in anger, his eyes a furious storm as they glared at the person trying to get a hold of you. He couldn´t fail so close to the end. How dare they accuse him of trying to harm you?!

"Please, you need to come to your senses!", the sailors try to reason with you but it´s almost like you can´t even register what they say.

" I need to meet with my love, he´s waiting for me.", you say, still smiling as you step to the very edge of the boat, looking down at a Sunday growing more and more manic by the second.

"Jump into my arms, darling! Accept my love and be mine forever!", the siren calls out to you as a crew member grabs into your arms, trying to pull you back.

"Don´t listen to him! Please, don´t do as he says!"

You struggle violently against the hold, kicking and screaming, demanding to be let go.

"No, you can´t separate me from my love, let me go! I need to be by his side!", you scream and with an especially harsh kick, the sailor lets go of you for a moment, leaving you with enough time to take the final step and jump right into your demise.

Sunday gently catches you in his arms, a lovesick smile on his face as he finally gets to hold you like he wanted to. You´re finally all his and there´s nothing that can be done about it anymore.

"I´m so happy you chose me, darling. We´re going to be so happy together. I´ll take such good care of you. No one else is ever going to touch you again.", he whispers into your ear and you can´t help but giggle joyfully at the prospect, your mind singing with affection, drowning out the growing panic within you.

But what is there to be afraid of? You´re finally united with the love of your life and nothing will ever separate you again.

Sunday holds you firmly as he quickly swims away from the boat, leaving your panicked crewmates behind.

Now that he finally has you, he will make sure that you´ll grow to love him even without his song. He knows that deep down, you love him just as much as he does you, you´ll just need a little bit of time to adjust to your new life underwater. He knows of a very beautiful underwater cave that he can keep you in until you grow more accustomed to your new life with him. Down there, you´ll never be able to escape his grasp again.

You will be his forever, for that is the consequence of putting him under a spell like you has.

And then he takes you with him to the very depths of the sea, never to be seen again.

[danses-with-dogmeat]

fallout 3 and fallout new vegas companions trying to flirt with lone/six for the first time?

FO3 Crushing! Companions Try to Flirt with Lone for the First Time

I. Absolutely. Love. This. The mental images that this prompt inspired were just lovely 👏👏

Sorry this took like... literal years to get out 😅 I hope you like it!

Fallout New Vegas is on the way as well, so look out for that... eventually :)

Butch:

He’d flirted with them before… only, even he hadn’t really known that that’s what it was. His mom often said he liked them, and other adults commented similarly when Lone and him were kids, but he’d always made disgusted faces, retching noises or flipped the people off that tried to tell him he liked Lone. Of all people, Lone?! No, not Butch. He bullied them, he disliked them, if anything. 

At least, then, that’s what he believed. Now though, Butch knew the truth, and he couldn’t believe how stupid he’d been all along. He plans to make up for lost time, to correct those little errors of his from the past. Butch has a short lifetime of flirting under his belt, and he means to put all that experience to good use. 

Just need to find the right time. Can’t do it out of the blue, not with Lone, can’t risk something like that. Has to be all romantic an’ shit…

–

“See anything you like?” Butch wiggled his eyebrows as Lone’s blurry form swam into focus. “You’re… awfully close to me, baby.” 

“Butch?” They mumbled, and he noticed that their eyes were closed. He’d thought they’d been staring at him, but their eyes were closed.

Just my luck…

“Butch, you’re awake?” Lone nearly jumped out of their seat as their blinking eyes widened in shock. “How do you feel?” 

“I feel great, baby. How’re you?” 

Their brows furrowed quickly, confusion warping their concerned features. 

“You were hurt, Butch. A car, some raiders… It exploded and you passed out, lost some blood, you… I wasn’t sure when you were going to wake up. The doctor said you might not.” 

Butch’s foggy mind began to clear, a headache began to form at the front of his skull, and the aches in his body became more and more pronounced with each word that left his companion's mouth. 

…I what? 

“Lone, only blood I loss was because you pierced my heart.” 

That one sounded good, right? That one should really drop the hint to ‘em. 

Butch grinned at the thought. 

“Oh, Butch…” They reached out a hand, tentatively reaching for his forehead and brushing away a few strands of hair. “You’re still coming out of it, huh? Just rest, okay?”

A new determination burned through his aching joints, his battered body. At the feel of Lone’s tender touch, at the realization of their obliviousness to his, frankly obvious, feelings, Butch tried again. 

“Can’t rest. Not now baby. Not ‘till you’re mine. Not ‘till you see it… See the way I feel.”

He tried to get up, to emphasize his point, but his arms could hardly move. The blanket that was stretched over his half-bare body felt like sandpaper over his burned and blistered flesh, and his muscles roared in painful protest at every movement. 

A groan left him at the sudden pain of it. 

“Butch, no, easy.” Lone’s hands gently encouraged him to stay down, and their eyes shone with sympathy that made his chest ache from more than his wounds. “You must be half delirious to be saying all this, but… don’t try to get up, okay? Just try and rest.” 

He wanted to listen to them, wanted to do what his partner asked, wanted to please them that way, but he needed Lone to know. 

It’s been too long. Maybe this deliriousness is what I needed. 

Shoulda tried this earlier.

“Lone, no. You gotta understand-”

“Butch, shh.” They laid a finger over his lips as their other hand stroked over his shoulder. “There’s time. You can tell me everything soon. I want to hear it, okay? Trust me, I do. But now, please… just rest for me. Work on healing, just for a little while. Then you can tell me how you feel.”

Butch’s eyes closed without his permission, their sweet words lulling him back to blissful unconsciousness as their hand continued it’s soothing stroking over a bit of unmarred skin on his arm.   

“And then,” He heard, just as he felt sleep wrapping him in its embrace, “Then I can tell you how I feel, too.” 

The last thing he could recall was a simple touch. In reality, it was faint, but to Butch, their lips upon his forehead felt like a heavy crash, an avalanche of weight poured over him that left nothing in its wake but the possibilities. For his future, and for theirs. 

Charon:

“Wait.” A large, calloused hand grasped at Lone’s shoulder as they made a move to step out from behind the pillar. “I’ll go first.” Charon’s rough voice sounded close to their ear as his hand stayed firmly on them, encouraging their form to move back behind cover once more.

“Why? Did you hear something?”

Charon paused at his companion’s inquiry. Did they think it was odd that he took precautions? That was his job, wasn’t it? It was in his contract...

But we both know I don’t always follow every little rule the paper alludes to in the finer print.

The ghoul cleared his throat, retracting his hand from Lone’s shoulder as he moved to step in front of them, pointedly avoiding their gaze as he thought through what he should say.

Charon didn’t ever recall being so concerned for his employer’s safety before. In fact, it was more likely he would do the bare minimum that was required to keep them from being blown to bits or falling off a cliff than it was for him to go out of his way to ensure their safety of his own accord. He had to follow orders, had to step in harm’s way, should it suddenly become clear to him that they would be injured or killed if he didn’t do so, and… That was it. The contract never mentioned the careful thought process he now went through each time the pair entered into a potentially dangerous situation. Nowhere in the paper did it say that his heart would need to flutter with anxiety when his companion was in danger, or that his body should flush with the heat of anger when a bullet did happen to graze them. The contract never told him to remain up all through the night, poised and ready for an unexpected attack, or lie awake in Lone’s dim room, his mind fraught with worry for the next day.

Yet, here he was. Doing all of that. When the hell had all this happened?

Charon tried to convince himself that it was only due to Lone’s kindness, to their low-maintenance in comparison to the likes of his previous employers. He tried to tell himself that the only reason he didn’t want them dead was because then he’d be saddled with some other asshole he had to answer to, but Charon knew deep down that that was bullshit. Even when his employers had been bearable, he’d never felt this strongly for them.

A moment of silence passed before Charon finally fixed his companion with his intense, icy gaze.

“No.” He said simply, “I didn’t hear anything.”

Their eyebrows scrunched together and Charon saw the question forming in their mind. Before they could even voice it, he replied.

“I just want to keep you safe.”

Clover:

“Sugar, you know I mean it when I tell you you look good, right?”

Clover always flirted, it was more of a personality trait than a conscious action at this point. It was just the way she was, the way she had been told to be, made to be for so many years that it just became a part of her. Now was different though, she always flirted without realizing it, but now… Well, she actively wanted to, and of course, of course Lone would be impervious to it. Did they really not notice? They almost seemed to ignore her little compliments, her teasing words and forward touches, and Clover does not like being ignored under any circumstance.

Finally, one day, she'd been driven to confront her companion about it.

“What’s your problem, huh? What’ve you got against me?” Clover finally burst out after the umpteenth time she’d said something sickly sweet that they’d just completely brushed off like a dead leaf on their jacket.

Look, she’d tried being subtle, she’d tried being low-key as much as the ex-slave could be, then she’d gotten more aggressive with her verbal affections, she’d gotten more direct with her lingering touches and her suggestive comments, but Sole seemed to just laugh off all of it, or worse, they’d pretend as if she didn’t do anything at all.

Clover was over it.

“Is it the way I look, huh?" She held her arms out wide, and Lone shrank back in response. "Is it cuz of my past, then? What, I been with too many folks for you to handle? What?”

“Clove,” Lone looked down at the floor in… what, embarrassment? Shame? It was hard to tell. “I didn’t realize–” 

“No, you look at me, sweetheart. Look me in the eye as you tell me what I don’t wanna hear.” 

“I didn’t want to take advantage of you, is all” Their gaze was sympathetic as it met her sizzling expression. 

“What?” 

“It’s like you said, about your past… I wasn’t sure if you, well, how you felt about me at all. Not when, your whole life, you’ve been forced to try and attract everyone around you, to be suggestive and touchy and I didn’t just want to be another asshole that only sees you as a piece of meat.” 

They wrung their hands with their confession, but their eyes stayed locked to hers, just like she'd asked. 

“Because I don’t. I… I like you, Clove.”

“You… Honest? You really do?” She took a step closer, her expression vastly changed from the flared nostrils and low brows she’d had before. Elation hung behind a thin curtain of disbelief. 

“Well, yeah. I just… Didn’t want you to think that’s why I bought your– well, you."

The word sounded so hollow, and Clover felt it like a pang in her chest. It wasn't often that she let her past hurt her this way. That wasn't a trend she could afford to start, but seeing the way it pained Lone to speak about...

"You don’t owe me anything." They continued somberly, "It’s as I said before, you’re free to go, if that’s what you want–”

“It’s not, sugar.” Clover shook her head as a poorly contained smile tugged at her full lips, as her hands went to either side of Lone's face, her thumbs brushing over their cheeks. “As I’ve been tryin’ to tell ya all this time… I want you.” 

She couldn't help all the flirting she did, both before, and after their conversation. Her past also made it hard for her to know which feelings of hers were truly real, as opposed to ones put in place in order to defend herself. Clover's still working all of that out, but just knowing... Understanding Lone's point of view, and hearing the genuine words leave them... It made the process of falling for someone easier than it's ever been before.

Cross:

“A very good shot. You must have exemplary eyesight, ma’am/sir.”

The action of flirting never came naturally to the Paladin. Obviously it wasn't high on her priority list when it came to skills she sought to perfect. If it were, her proficiency in other areas, with focuses on survival and combat prowess, surely would've suffered. But at this rate, she wished she could've had at least some form of training in the subtle art of wooing someone. Not just any someone, but Lone. Her companion, her friend, someone not in the Brotherhood, someone who wouldn't cause her to break decorum if she were to be with them.

It was a strange sensation, knowing that she had feelings for Lone. She was rarely certain about these things, and she almost never caught feelings for anyone. Maintaining distance from those around you, remaining indifferent to people you spend inordinate amounts of time with, it's a burden every soldier had to bear if they hope to defend their hearts and minds from the brutality of sudden and bitter loss. And yet, here she was, catching feelings for a civilian.

Perfect.

Cross tried to ignore it for ages, but it only seemed to become more obvious the more she attempted to conceal it. She would stumble over her words, blush more, become embarrassed about certain uncivilized things soldiers shouldn't think twice about. Why did she have such a hard time asking Lone to halt when she has to… relieve herself? She's a damn Star Paladin for Christ's sake, taking a ten-one shouldn't effect her in such a way.

In the end, she would find herself utterly unable to keep from at least complimenting her companion on their combat skills, their abilities as a diplomat that she so admired, their compassion towards others, and even their athletic physique. Is it really flirting? Hopefully Lone thinks so, because this as much as the Paladin can seem to muster in the ways of wooing.

Fawkes:

“You are a good companion, and an even better friend. I am beyond fortunate to have you in my life, and if ever there is anything you need, I will be here.”

Fawkes isn't quite sure what all of these feelings mean. The way his stomach tingles, a smile involuntarily crinkles his eyes, how he feels so warm inside when he looks at his companion. Is it friendship? Friendship is strong, and he felt strongly towards Lone, that, he knew.

When it comes down to it, Fawkes has no idea what he's doing as he relentlessly compliments this incredible person beside him. He's simply honest with his companion. Fawkes thinks they're the bravest person he's met, they have a good sense of humor, a kind heart, and they gave him a chance when no one else would even think to. He's proud to call Lone his friend, and he doesn't hesitate to let everyone know.

The day he finds out that it's more than friendship that he feels for his companion, Fawkes becomes, well... quite shy. Though, he'd never want to waver in his compliments, as he believes in being genuine and would never feel embarrassed about telling Lone the truth, he'd be more careful with his word choice, and the comments would be less frequent. As he continues his assault of kind words, praise, and appreciation for his companion; he would be planning his confession to them. Lone deserved to know the way he felt, even if they didn't feel the same. He just had to tell them, because, if they did feel the same? It would change his whole world for the better.

Jericho:

"Fuck, kid. You're crazier than I am, heh."

No form of praise is light praise, when it comes to Jericho. The ex-raider has a sorta allergy to compliments, especially the genuine kind, but Lone, he likes.

So what if he tells 'em that they're nuts enough to run with him? He can eye them up when they make a great shot, or tell them they're a badass when they make some shit explode, check out their ass in those tight road leathers they like to wear. That doesn't mean nothing.

He's too old for any of that shit, anyway. No, Jericho outgrew the ability to have feelings for anyone when he was about 10 years old. An' his conquests back in his raider days had left him full enough for two lifetimes in terms of companionship.

Nah, Lone was just... They were alright. The first 'alright' vault dweller he's ever met, and the first person in ages that didn't make him wanna set off that bomb in Megaton's center and give them all a little peace.

It wasn't 'till his actions started reflecting those little glimpses of... whatever the fuck was going on with Lone, that he even realized he was acting out of character.

Sure, sharing ammunition and helping 'em scavenge enough scraps to fix up their armor, sewing up a wound while they gritted their teeth, and swapping food stores wasn't anything groundbreaking, but... Well, he's never done any of that shit with past traveling companions. Hell, he more so wished his past companions’ armor would fail so he could loot their corpse when they dropped, that they wouldn't notice the ammo he swiped from their pack at night, that their wound would fester and he could have a few more caps in his pocket when they didn't wake up from fevered sleep.

With Lone though... it went even further. Giving them first dibs on loot, offering to carry more of their shit, so they could have a lighter load, sharing a fucking cigarette with 'em. That shit was strange.

Cigs are like straight fucking gold to the ex-raider, and yet...

Shit...

Look, they wanna run with an old raider like him, Lone has gotta be the one to say it, to admit any feelings. But those actions of his? That's as loud as Jericho gets with the vulnerable shit, everything else is in their hands.

[sailorvenusxoxo]

Half-Celebration

Fandom: Rivals

Pairing: Tony Baddingham x Reader

Summary: You just upped the ratings, and you feel absolutely amazing about it, in a high of power and confidence. And while you celebrate with Tony, a slight dominant streak comes to your mind. OS

Warnings: Smut, fem!reader (but no she/her pronouns), cunnilingus, semi-public sex, grinding, making out.

Word count: 2.2k

a/n: hey everyone! I hope you enjoy it! If you have any requests, I'm willing to try, and obviously, any constructive criticism is welcomed! <3 Also, I apologise in advance, English is NOT my first language. It's an os, but if you want a second part, tell me! Lots of love 🫶🏻

Tony allows himself to let out a slight grunt of victory, at the latest report of ratings.

Fucking hell, the ratings are high.

He lights himself a cigar, taking a long, and according to him well-deserved, drag. The lord smirks to himself, thinking of the person behind those sudden surge of success.

His brand new producer. His new jewel, basically. Discovered in another country, and now working for him in Corinium… She was being sensational. Full of ideas, spectacular, brand new, thrilling.

And god, did he enjoy watching her make phone calls, walk around his company, like she owned the bloody place. She knew her worth. She knew she was essential, and became an element that Tony couldn’t just get rid off.

In multiple ways than one….

—

Up in your office, there you were, focused on the new report that just got sent in to everyone. You looked at the numbers, quickly analysing the ratings, and calculating the percentages you, once again, added.

You smirked to yourself. You did a fucking amazing job.

You couldn’t care less about the negative criticisms. Those who looked down on you for your important position, or the ones that accused you of getting that leather chair, only by “giving one to the boss”.

Sure, you had indeed given Tony multiples. But was it the only reason why you were in that fancy leather chair? Hell no.

You were smart, capable, organised, and you knew your worth. All that you did for this company, the hard work, the over time, the multiple risks… It was finally paying off.

And you couldn’t be prouder. You knew you were in for a special celebration tonight, up in your place, but you could not wait. A part of you wanted, even craved, to see that smug smirk of his, with the proud glint in his eyes. Of course, while he’d be “proud of you”, you knew he was mostly congratulating himself for hiring you.

But did you care? Not really, not when his inflated ego, stroked in the right way, would make your eyes roll, and your legs shake.

So, you continued your journey to his office, avoiding the other coworkers, focusing on the door of his office, the sound of your bright red kitten heels resonating on the wooden floor.

Without knocking, you enter his office, a little smirk on your lips. You usually knocked, he enjoyed respect, but you were both in a nice enough mood to get over this.

Tony looked at you, standing at the door frame, smoking his cigar, a celebratory one, perhaps. You step inside his office, closing the door and shutting the blinds, as he smirks at you.

“You’re getting the fuck of a lifetime, tonight, you know that?”

He declared cockily, a hint of excitement in his low voice.

You smirk back at him, tilting your head, feigning contempt.

“...I figured. With ratings this high, I might as well get that new watch I desperately wanted.”

You propose, lips pursed.

He snickered, shaking his head, putting his cigar back in the ashtray. He gestures to you with his finger to come closer to him, and feeling playful, you oblige.

“We’ll see about that, starlet. For now…How about a little celebration here, hmm?”

He asks you, his eyebrow raised. You purse your lips. The door was closed and locked, the blinds were shut… This was a special day, why not try out something risky?

Being risky had always gotten you places, anyway.

You bite your lower lip, getting closer to his slumped shape, on his huge leather seat. In a breath, you walk closer again, your knee grazing his, slightly spreading his thighs, cladded by his fancy Armani suit.

“...A celebration?”

You murmur, your eyes clouding with want and desire. He smirks, nodding, his large hand grabbing the back of your thigh, right under your left cheek, pulling you closer to him.

For once in your dynamic, you looked down to him. And you smirked. God… even if it was only literally, and never in actual power dynamics, did it feel good to look at him from above. It felt… exhilarating.

“You look good under me.”

You murmur, in an attempt to shift things up.

His smirk doesn’t leave his lips, and his brown eyes glint in amusement.

Cute.

Was clearly the word going through his mind at your attempt. Will he ever take you seriously? You doubted so. Would you still keep on pushing him, and pushing him, until you reached that stage, where he could only look at you in awe, other than when you rode him?

Definitely so.

You promised yourself so. That one day, this bastard that you found, to your utter dismay, way too attractive, would look at you with the same reluctant respect, almost fear, as he did with Rupert Campbell-Black.

Finally, you snap, and climb on his lap, your knees resting on the leather, on either side of his hips, as you captured his lips with yours.

He eagerly grabbed you, his hands going to your hair, gripping on them, as his chapped and thin lips harshly responded, moving against yours, little grunts escaping his mouth.

“Hmm… Eager much?”

He grunted, his hands sliding down your back, to go and and cup your arse firmly, as you held back a gasp, at the firm touch.

Eager? Of course you were bloody eager… not like he couldn’t tell. Yet, you were power-hungry, with those new ratings. Fuck, you were the it thing, lately!

You grabbed his tie, pulling him closer, as your mouth moved more fervently against his.

He let out another groan, as his hands pulled up your skirt, exposing your backside to the air of his office, his calloused hands going to cup your flesh, patting the skin.

Your hips jerked involuntarily at the little pat, and you scoffed again.

He pulled away, smirking at you. He knew how to win you over, he knew what to do to dominate you.

Yet, you persisted.

Not today.

Unbuttoning his shirt, and loosening his tie, you attacked his neck, going against a rule of his.

He didn’t want any hickeys, he couldn’t have it noticed by his wife.

And as his nails dug into the flesh of your arse, as a warning, you looked up to him, almost in a glare.

“...Shut the fuck up. It’s my celebration. I’ll do what I want. If you have a problem, go see the makeup artist.”

You snapped, before attacking his neck again.

Tony grunted, his head thrown back, as his other hand gripped your hair tighter.

“You little-”

He started, but you interrupted him by grinding your hips against his, making him stop his sentence, a moan taking over. Strangely enough, grinding was a guilty pleasure of his.

After a bit of snogging, looking like two hormonal young adults, you pulled away, sitting on his desk, legs spread apart, like a feast for him to devour.

And he seemed to share that thought, due to the look on his face.

But as he approached his goal, his face eager, ready to devour you and reduce you to a whining mess, you stopped him.

Your red heel, on his forehead.

He froze slightly against it, not expecting it. But you spoke up.

“Let’s make this clear. You’re about to eat me out, yes. Perhaps as a way to make me submit again, and to have me on my knees in about two minutes, since you're always so sloppy with this.”

You start, as he was still frozen against your heel.

“But…Today, I’ve upped our ratings, since last month, by fifty five percent. In one month. Ever had that? Don’t think so. So right now, right here, I’ll be getting a proper head. And you better pour your heart into it, or else I’ll find another mouth to get it.”

You finish, looking at him, an eyebrow raised, putting in all the confidence you have of.

He looks at you, stunned. Tony is ready to retort. Ready to say he could kick you out your condo, if you saw another man. That you’d just take what he’d give you.

But as he looked up at you, his boner grew again. God… Did you look… fierce. Powerful. Like a fucking goddess.

He had made it. Turned you into that, in his opinion at least. While to you… He just happened to guide you slightly, during your breakthrough.

But in response to your sudden dominant streak, he smirked. For once… he’d indulge.

He gripped your thighs tighter, bringing your hips and pelvis closer to his face, before playfully retorting:

“...At your service, Ma’am.”

Your eyes slightly widen, at him finally letting out some control, but as he puts his mouth on you, you realise it's just another one of his twisted plans again. To see if you could handle it. The power, the attitude.

But today was different. You had your proof, that you were a fucking phenomenon.

So, gripping on his desk, you spread your legs wider, letting him feast on you, as you bucked your hips against his face.

You wouldn't hide your pleasure, pretend he did not have any effect on you. Because that wasn’t displaying power.

Displaying power, was owning up to this building pleasure, this sensation in your stomach, and yet… still indulge in it, and let yourself get submerged by all of what you allowed him to do to you.

Not what he could do to you. But what you allowed him to.

At first, he licked a teasing stripe,making you shiver. The tip of his tongue barely grazed your clitoris, before he looked up at you, his eyes shining in mischief and amusement.

He suckled slightly on one of your inner labia, then the other, tasting the natural juice that was slowly oozing out, and making a more primal side of him come out.

But as you heard his grunts, the dominant streak in you got control again, and you put your red heel on his back again, reminding him of his place.

He looked up at you, slightly grunting again, visibly a bit displeased at you still maintaining this attitude.

Eager to see you crumble and give up, his tongue traced a circle around your clit, hoping to see you get impatient and begging.

But you simply gripped his hair, pushing his hair further between your thighs.

Suddenly pleasured by this new sensation of being… dominated? Tony slightly let loose and decided to full on suckle on your clit, his tongue lapping at your taste, his teeth messily grazing your core, but not enough to be uncomfortable.

You let out a gasp of pleasure, before moaning, as he grunted against you, his nose nestled in your bush.

He gripped your thighs harder, suckling harder, his tongue alternating between licking, and teasing your entrance, by tipping the tongue inside.

You felt it, that knot in your stomach, that pressure building up, that arch in your back, pressing for more, urging him, almost ordering him.

He could suffocate between your thighs, and you wouldn’t care. The high was too thrilling.

You pinched your own nipple, desperate for another stimulation, as your throat let out a guttural sound.

Your thighs closed around his face, bringing him deeper, as, also as enthralled as you were, Tony groaned against your core, eagerly pleasing you. You came against his face, your juice staining his nose, mouth, and chin, as your voice almost broke, to the intensity of the orgasm.

Granted, he hadn’t eaten you out very long. But yet… it was different.

It was almost…reverent.

As you pulled away from him, you snickered, seeing his messed up face, and ruffled face.

You looked at the clock, and feigned a gasp.

“Fuck, I forgot… I have a meeting with Declan in two minutes.”

False. But you were going to go see Declan, and make up a new idea for his show, just for pretend.

Tony looked up at you, frowning, confused.

“...Excuse me?”

You smirk, tilting your head.

“Aw, come on. Don’t give me that face. We’ll celebrate tonight, in the intimacy of my flat. For now… I'm busy. Where do you think these ratings come from, hmm?”

You snicker, getting off his desk, fixing your outfit.

Gosh… were you really doing this? Making Tony eat you out, then ditching him, giving him blue balls until tonight?

You looked at your flushed, but glowing self, in the reflection of his window, before realising that… yes.

Yes, you totally were.

Tony scoffed.

“You’re just going to-?”

You interrupted him, raising a hand to his face.

“I’m busy. We’ll have tonight. Don't be such a child, just be patient… don't you have some… class?”

You snickered, shaking your head.

Slightly stunned, Tony frowned slightly, shaking his head, before scoffing again, his cheeks slightly tinted with a blush.

“What do you think I am, an animal? That only sex's on my mind? I have a job too, starlet. Get to work, we’ll finish this tonight.”

He grumbled, visibly trying to regain some composure, despite the obvious bulge in his pants that he was slightly palming.

You smirk, and threw a discreet wink at him, before murmuring.

“If I were you, I'd wipe my mouth. Shouldn’t talk with a mouth full.”

Triumphant, you left his office, leaving him with his frustration and slight awe, eager to discover what more powers you could obtain tonight.

[macgyvermedical]

Hypertension (High Blood Pressure)

Did you know that almost 50% of people over the age of 18 have blood pressure higher than the currently recommended 130/80?

Did you know that by the age of 60, that number rises to 75%?

I used to believe this was because we had over-pathologized blood pressure. Surely something that 75% of people will experience in their lifetime is... just normal. Surely we could set the cutoff higher to more accurately capture truly pathological high blood pressures, decreasing the need for doctor visits and drugs.

But having thought about it, I think we actually may have found a cheat code instead of a pathology. Because I think the data is right- lower blood pressures put people at lower risk for heart disease and stroke.

But the numbers would indicate most of us don't naturally have low enough blood pressures to get this effect.

And today we have really decent drugs that can artificially lower blood pressure, thus conferring that added protection.

So I think if we marketed it as a cheat code instead of a treatment for disease, a lot more people would be willing to use it.

Just a thought.

[loquaciousferret]

Riduurok

Pairing: Din Djarin/ The Mandalorian x f!reader

Warnings: Descriptions of blood, injury, anxiety, mentions of death. No explicit content. Maybe more so please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 2.1K

Authors Note: Part 2 is already confirmed. Thank you to @lovers-liability and @tightjeansjavi for their help and encouragement with this. I hope you love it.

Thank you for reading! - LF

You knew something was wrong when the sun began to set. He had assured you he would have an easy hunt today and return long before dark. Your anxiety grew as each star made itself known in the night sky, each passing minute telling you he was in more and more danger.

After what felt like a lifetime of worry, the perimeter alarm sounded to announce someone’s approach to the ship. You hurried to check the cameras and your stomach dropped at the sight before you, Din, clearly very injured, limping towards the ship on shaky legs, clutching his neck.

You rush to open the doors and lower the ramp to take in the scene in more detail. His upper body is a painting of crimson on a hard beskar canvas. Smears of blood of a variety of shades littering his chest and shoulders.

You gasp, reaching out for him. “Din-“

Before you can continue or he can respond, he takes one more wobbly step towards you, and collapses.

You freeze in panic. Grogu cries out from the corner of the room, having leaped from his crib at the sight of his dad returning.

A strangled moan is emitted from Din's helmet. He's not unconscious, yet. But if you don't get to treat him or at least see the condition of his injury, it wouldn't be long before he was.

“Din?" You ask, adrenaline taking over, replacing your fear with an ability to take action. "Din, are you shot?"

“Jus' grazed my neck." He responds, his voice shaky and pained.

"You- Your-" You stutter. "Din, I- You have to remove your helmet. I w-"

"No." He growls.

"Din, I won't touch you. You can lift it yourself, I need to see the wound. I will treat it quickly and you can put it right back on to recover."

"I said, no. Leave me. Bring me a med pack and get out."

You consider his request for a brief moment. He seems in no condition to treat himself. He has already collapsed to the floor, and he lays against the cool metal, hardly able to support his weight on his forearms. You are sure he won't be able to treat himself without passing out. A cocktail of tortured moans and grunts spills from under his helmet.

"Din, you must let me do this. There is no other way."

Grogu continues to cry. He can see his dad is in pain. He can see you are too, pleading with him.

"Take him out of here," Din gasps, "Bring me a med pack, and leave me. That is not a request."

You whimper, terrified with both options, not sure whether to do as he asks or to defy him. After a moment, you give in, rushing to sweep Grogu into your arms and hurrying to Din's quarters to put the baby in the bed. You know you don't have long. You practically toss him onto the bed, "I'm sorry baby, your daddy will be fine, stay here."

You rip a med pack from the wall on the way back to where Din lies. What you see makes your heart stop. A pool of blood is growing around his helmet. He is no longer supporting his weight on his arms, instead he is completely collapsed to the floor, his helmet twisted at what looks to be a painful angle. Laboured, raspy, breaths sound from his helmet.

"Oh, Din." You gasp, dropping to your knees beside him.

He stretches out a hand to reach for the medpack, and you give him a syringe loaded with bacta. He drops it instantly when you place it in his outstretched palm, his hands shaking and weak.

You realise there is no way he will be able to administer his own treatment.

You plead with him again, "Din, please. Please, just let me do this. I will never tell a soul. I w-"

"Stop." He snaps. "I will not let you do this."

"Please, no." You are sobbing now, and he flexes his fingers, stroking your knee.

"Yes, and I am sorry. I am sorry. I really am. Tell me you will look after him."

"N-No, Din. I don't have to look after him. You aren't going anywhere." You argue, in disbelief at what he is suggesting.

"Tell me you will do it." He says, his voice barely above a whisper but somehow still commanding in its tone. "Give me your word, and it's the last thing I will ask of you."

"No." You cry, "Just let me take it off, Din, he needs you. I need you."

He breathes. "I am sorry, truly. But you must not touch my helmet. This is my fate, mesh'la. It is my duty to fulfil it. This is the way."

You start to panic, sobbing, you are confused, devastated, and more than anything, angry at him. You are downright furious that he thinks he can leave Grogu, that he thinks you two can go on without him. And next, you are angry at yourself, for begging him to abandon his beliefs for your own somewhat selfish desire of being with him.

Din has never told you much about his religion other than the basics. But you have picked up bits and pieces. You have heard stories from others, shared around crackling campfires, whispered under night skies from people who suspected what you and Din had, reassuring you that one day you would look into your lover's eyes. And you will, you remind yourself, as long as you can get him through this. Suddenly, you have the answer, and the words escape you before you can fully process the thought.

"Marry me."

"What?" You can't place his tone. If it is shock, then you don't blame him. You are shocked too. The intensity of your feelings towards Din have hit you like a ton-weight tonight. What you had thought was attraction was suddenly proving itself to be profound, ardent, undeniable love.

But perhaps it is a plain rejection of the idea.

"Th- They told me, if we were to be married that I- That-" You splutter, his breathing becoming more and more shallow with each passing second.

"Mhi solus tome." He murmurs.

"What?" You say, unable to hear him clearly or understand his words.

"Repeat it." He instructs.

"Mhi solus tome." He says again, his voice slightly quieter.

You try your best to copy the unfamiliar language. "Mhi solus tome."

"Mhi solus dar'tome." His voice is faint, as if it is coming from the other side of the room.

"Mhi solus dar'tome."

"Mhi me'dinui an."

"Mhi me'dinui an."

"Mhi ba'ju-" His voice trails off, his last syllable turning into a strained exhale.

"Din?" You say. He is completely unresponsive.

You place your hands on his shoulders and shake him lightly, desperate to bring him back to you but scared to cause him more pain or injure him further.

"Din, please-"

He whispers your name.

"Din, please, Din keep going, you have to-"

He whimpers. The sound makes you feel as though his pain is going right through you, too, and you cry harder.

"Din, plea-"

"Mhi ba'juri verde."

You can barely hear his words but you repeat what you could make out.

"Mhi ba'juri verde."

He lets out another hopelessly painful breath.

"Din? What next, Din, keep going for me."

He doesn't respond. Your hands are covered in the blood seeping from his helmet.

"Din?"

"We-" He coughs and you can see that the motion wracks his body with pain.

"Yes, Din? what is it? What next, Din, please, ple-"

"It is done." He chokes out.

You brace yourself to remove his helmet, terrified to discover the severity of the injury beneath. You grip the bottom of the beskar armour and carefully pull.

He cries out in agony.

You sob as you keep going, slowly removing it to expose his skin centimetre by centimetre. His neck is soaked with blood to the extent that you can't even discern his skin tone. As it reaches past his jaw, you see scruffy dark stubble. Then, flushed cheeks and an angled nose. Eyes, of which you don't know the colour as they are screwed shut in pain, but covered with a layer of thick dark eyelashes. A strong brow bone and a few lines of age. Thick, dark hair, plastered across his forehead with sweat, but you can make out scruffy curls.

You can't waste any time looking at him, though, moving on swiftly to frantically wipe blood from his neck and find the source of his injury.

A graze, he had told you. But the sight before you told you something entirely different.

You pick up the bacta syringe from where he had dropped it to the floor and carefully inject it as close to the wound as possible. He doesn't so much as wince, and you are terrified that you may already have lost him. With the thick liquid fully released, you retract the syringe. You spray the wound next, enough so that it closes, and dress it in a thick padded bandage.

Soft breaths still escape his lips but this can only ease your anxieties slightly. Until he wakes up, you are balanced on a precipice, unable to ascertain if you were too late to save him.

You must have collapsed from exhaustion, spending the longest night of your life, curled into the side of Din, your-

Your husband, Din Djarin.

You remain in a blissful sleep-like state for a mere moment, wondering if it is also a custom of his religion that you will take his last name. You hope it is.

But then you shoot upright, the events and circumstances rushing back of how exactly you went from... well, whatever you were, to spouses, in such a short period of time.

You yearn to feel his warmth, but you are met with cold steel against you.

You yearn to hear his voice, but you are met with silence in the wide-open heart of his ship.

You force yourself to look at him. The lines that were drawn between his brow and across his forehead last night have disappeared, he looks peaceful. He looks beautiful. You take your time analysing his features. You never want to look at anything else now that you have seen him.

A feeling of calm and contentedness washes over you. You don't know why, but you know he is going to be okay. You know he is going to come back to you.

And just like that, he does.

Your name falls from his lips.

His eyelashes flutter and you see him slowly opening his eyes. This seems as though it takes exertion, as he breathes heavily whilst doing so.

For a moment, you panic internally. What if he has forgotten? What if he regrets it? What if he thinks you did this without his consent?

"Din-" You gasp, as he looks up at you and takes you in.

His features flash in a strange expression and you feel as though your suspicions are confirmed.

"Din, I promise, I didn't d- We- I-"

His lips turn up ever so slightly into a reassuring smile.

"I haven't forgotten any of it, my love. I just can't believe you could possibly have looked more beautiful than I already thought you were through my visor."

You throw yourself at him and he grunts but then laughs.

"I-" The tears start again. You are overwhelmed with emotion. Relief and elation numb the hurt, but you don't know how you will ever get over the night you nearly lost him. You know you will never be able to put this feeling into words.

Somehow, you don't need to. It is as though he can read your mind.

"Shh," He says, rubbing your back. "I know, cyare. I know."

You stay like this for a moment until you pull back from him. He removes a glove and strokes a tear from your cheek.

"I'm here now, my love. I will never let you hurt for me like this again."

You nod and sniffle. You believe him.

"Where's the baby?" He asks softly.

"Oh," You say, and you laugh a little, surprised and embarrassed. He was the reason you were here after all, your job was as his caretaker. But for a moment, you had forgotten him. "I put him in your bed last night. I didn't hear him all night . I hope that means he slept through."

"Alright. Go and tend to him. I will get us the hell off this planet. I need to take you to my people."

MASTERLIST

Taglist: @silkiers @tightjeansjavi @chaotic-mystery @lovers-liability

Tag because I think you might like this: @deceiver-of-gods

[nanamisonholiday]

Come to check on you Pretty girl

Kento Nanami x Fem!Reader

TW: Smutish- no p in v ,daddykink, fingering

other dbf!nanami fic

Summary: Nanamis asked by dad!Geto to check on you ;)

“Nanami, would you mind seeing how my girl is doing?”

A nod of his head and he’s two stepping the stairs with a faint answer for Suguru-

“Sure”

He hates how eager he is, internally cringing on how he hadn’t played that off very well, but it's all thrown out the window as he approaches your door. The small journey feeling like a milennia when he swears he hears the faintest whimper come through the wooden door seperating him from you. He’s half ashamed how quick his body is to respond to the sound. Pants tightening at the image of you possibly knuckles deep-

No

You could be in danger, horribly unwell- or worse.

No

He’s being irrational- he’s an adult, he has a lifetime more experience to know what kind of sound that was. He’d be a dirty liar to say he wasn’t the tad bit excited as he creeps your door open to infact reveal you ass up with your back to the door, his eyes drawn to your lower hald as you piston your little fingers in and out of your pussy. Nanami’s breath is stolen from him

“Fuuckk- fuck fuck”

Fuck indeed

Your whimpers only grow louder, more desperate than ever to catch the much needed release your chasing. He wants to help you out so badly. The decency in him freezing him in place as he watches you unravel on your bed.

“Nngh- ahh, fuuck. Daddyyy~”

Shit

Humping the door almost seems enticing if it weren’t for the fact he’s not the only man in the house. Friends, and family downstairs right under the pair of you. He won’t risk that kind of behaviour, he’s a good man- a gentleman. You adore him and he adores you, but theres a line he can’t cross. He can’t. Everything feels blurry, his head hurts from holding back- so he opts for the next best thing.

Opening the door to let the slither of sunlight grow. Highlighting your bent and arched body- your so caught up in your bliss you haven’t even noticed the added light exposing you to the hungry man. Nanami swears he could cum at the sight, your pussy soaked as your juices drips down your fingers. A hand landing on the small of your back startles you- breath hitching when you see a familiar pair of slacks come into view.

A shiver runs down your spine- or through you, your not sure at this point, as your fingers dumbly continue rubbing your clit. The familiar deep voice making you whine out- rutting against your own hand.

“Be quiet”

Nodding you mindlessly open your legs wider- letting him remove your hand away, and whimpering as Nanami replaces the emptiness with his whole hand to cup you, long thick fingers exploring your soaked cunt. Your soft plush body reacting deliciously as he strokes your sensitive bud with his thumb. It feels like a dream

“Kenny~”

“Shhh pretty. Don’t want y’dad to hear you huh?”

You shake your head shyly- lost in all pleasure as the man plunges his fingers deep into your gummy walls. Cupping your own hands over your mouth you fight yourself to stop making noises. Because this would be deeply embarrassing- getting caught by your father as his dearest friend is knuckles deep in your pussy

The idea has your walls clenching, his eyes shutting, both your breathing going rapid as the pace quickens

“Nngh- Ken- fuck”

Fuck

“Kenny”

It’s like an angelic mantra, your voice repeating the sweet name you’ve always called him, Over, and over, and over again. His eyes fluttering under his eyelids as he feels you on his fingers

Kenny

Kenny

Kenny

Tap

“Kenny?”

Tap

Tap

Huh?

His eyes open and he’s standing at the doorway- eyes hazy as he orientates himself. You’re standing at the door a shy, but concerned look on your face as you go to grab his wrist.

“You okay Kenny?”

He never moved

He never went in

He never felt you

It really was a dream

He should be thankful he supposes. That he hadn't lost his cool and overstepped a line he couldn't return from. But he'd be lying to say if he wasn't even a bit disappointed.

The tug on his wrist and the worry crease of your prettily shaped brows bring him back to reality. His hand instinctively moving, to cup your cheek. Both hearts swelling at the contact- especially his when you happily lean your face further into his touch

“You’re scaring me a bit Kenny”

He smiles at you- you are such a sweetheart

“Came to check on you pretty girl”

All the blood rushes through your body as your shift your thighs together. The slick inbetween reminding you of why you’re alot more worried than usual at his sudden appearance at your door

“Oh, i’m okay Kenny”

He wants to smirk, embarrass you a little. But the ache between his own legs is growing with tenfold with the knowledge that you had been whining into your pillow as you finger fucked yourself. He feels lost again- dissappointment growing with every minute that he gets to stare at your post-orgasm haze, so much more dissappointed than he would like to be, at the fact his little daydream, had been infact a dream.

So he leans down, kisses your head as his hand wraps around the back of your neck bringing you close to his chest. Practically engulding you with his arm

“Good girl then, you coming down for dinner?”

You kiss his cheek, nodding as you bask in his attention. He had always been your favourite out of your fathers friends

“Mhm, tell daddy I’ll be down in 10”

And with that, you retreat back in- poorly closing the door as it’s left ajar in Nanamis face. His eyes raking over your body as you strip down and change.

He runs a hand down his stressed face, mumbling into the palm to himself

“Fuckin’hell”

Thanks for reading

feel free to msg/ask/whatever- or don't <3

[oceanlipgloss]

MEAT SHOP

BEELZEBUB.

+ warnings: dark themes, erotic hues, graphic descriptions of horror and gore, inclusion of vore, strong language.

+ female mc, feminine pronouns.

No restaurant could ever dream of offering such buttery meat—never to be sold in any boucherie.

A precise percentage of fat. A measured amount of muscle. The perfect mix of flavours. Raw flesh softened into dough between his bloody teeth. Dead cells trickled down his smiling lips in strawberry streaks.

Her bones cracked like candy in his mouth, but she didn’t taste sweet.

A once-in-a-lifetime blend. Not flavoured like heaven. Paradise isn’t even a good thing, now is it?

Fuck, how long he had been waiting!

So close. He was so close! And yet, he was losing his fucking mind. Though God had created him a ravenous madman, sanity was still slipping through his feverish fingers and down his trembling hands. Like oil and grease.

There was no time to cut the cake. No time, no time, no time. None at all! None whatsoever. He had to rip a bite out of her.

No, no, no, no.

Hold it.

This is an only chance. Jackpot. A once-in-a-lifetime meal, remember? Even if it wasn’t a full course, lunch, breakfast, or so much as a snack.

He can never indulge in this grade of meat anymore.

Somewhere, in an insignificant corner of his scattering mind, the thought made him sad. What a shame it is for such exquisite food to never be enjoyed again.

Later, later. As for now!

Should he swallow her whole or rip flesh and bone apart first? Choke down meat or savour flavour? Lick blood or drink plasma?

In the end, he didn’t take the time to peel smooth skin back like he would have done with chocolate wrappers.

He couldn’t do it.

Not too long ago he had sent her an invitation into his bathtub. Locked up her hot body between his legs. With every kiss fabric melted off.

What a dirty human. He could smell the fucking arousal on her.

Dumb, clueless bitch.

Everything had to be just right. He did not want to miss the burst of even one particular cell. He hadn’t wanted to risk watering down the palate. So there were no flowers. There was no water. Nothing. Just pristine enamel. And him. It was empty.

His lips had kissed her shoulder softly.

And then his teeth had bitten down.

Gentle.

Hard.

Harder still.

He had torn away a piece of her.

What do humans say?

Oh, but of course.

‘Bon apetit!’

The tub overflowed with blood. Fetid burgundy burst under his weight and pooled onto the bathroom floor.

No difference between candied cherries and blood clots. Ligaments and tendons. Flecks of flesh and bits of bone. Broken fingers and curled toes. Cartilage that’s hard, but much softer than stone. He devoured them all, polished stains off glossy marble.

No crime scene or slaughterhouse could have compared.

His smile shone. He felt a little bit empty. Was it regret? Well, it’s too late! Such pleasure is worth every regret in the world. His guts ached in longing under his grimy nails. So good, though not yet full.

How he wanted more!

He adored the putrid pain, the harmonious flavour, the very gore.

So little remained of her...she couldn’t even be called a corpse.

No more. Not in any meat shop.

Once was not enough.

With trembling fingertips and a strange, twisted love, he stroked the girl’s skull.

Oh, you stupid little human, you.

If only there were more of you.

+tag: @/kanatashinkaifr does a gory jumpscare sound good to u? :P

+notes: Beel is very much thriller material. There is a cold-blooded, unstable part of him. A true gluttony incarnate—lusting for flesh, eating all there is, leaving nothing behind. No matter what resides in his heart and who the victim is, he's a devil and his sin continues to rule him. Even if he does manage to resist eating MC, his desire to devour her is a flame that still burns. Inspired by the in-game screenshots in this post.

This, my people, was a dark pleasure to write. Blood and meat, dear peeps ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) I want to write more stuff like this in the future. I kid you not, I almost felt free for a minute. *Rubbing hands like a villain fly* hail horror, hail gore!

+ MASTERLIST

+ AO3 POST

©𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨

[thebisexualdogdad]

Smutober day 19: Nefertari Vivi x Male!reader - Reunion

It had been two years since you last saw the love of your life.

Vivi left in order to help her kingdom and in turn had to leave you behind, you begged her to let you go with her but you were the only one she trusted to watch over Alabasta in her absence.

When she returned and it was like you could finally breath again, she was home and she was safe.

After Crocodile was defeated and you said your goodbyes to the straw hats you ended up in your room having the reunion you waited so long for.

You stumbled through your room towards the bed, your lips desperate for each other as you removed your clothes.

“Oh how I missed you Vivi,” you say now on top of her in bed in only your underwear, “I thought about you every single day, you were gone and I was so afraid of something happening to you.”

“I wanted to send you letters so many times to let you know I was alright but I couldn't risk blowing my cover,” she says as you kiss down her neck and along the top of her breasts peaking out of her bra.

“I understand my love, you had to do what was best for the kingdom,” you say now kissing across her stomach.

She reaches under her and unclips her bra as you pull her panties down her legs.

Vivi puts her hand under your chin and bringing you back up to kiss her, she couldn't get enough of your lips on hers.

She reaches inside your underwear and strokes your growing erection, you could combust right there from her touch.

“Vivi,” you groan.

“Yes love?” She chuckles.

“I need you so badly,” you say.

“You have me Y/N and I'm never leaving you again,” she replies, kissing you deeply.

You slip out of your underwear and spread her legs open, easing your cock inside her.

Both of you moan at the contact making up for the last two years without one another.

Your breathing is in sync as you thrust into her, every movement so full of passion.

You're looking her straight in the eyes as you make love to her, Vivi tangling her hands in your hair.

“I love you so much,” you say, feeling your climax approaching.

“I love you too,” she smiles.

You grab one of her hands and place it on the pillow beside her head, it felt so good just to hold her hand again.

When you cum you cum together, getting lost in the sound of each other's moans.

You spend the entire night exploring and relearning each others bodies, finding every spot that made her yearn for you.

You would have waited a lifetime to be with Vivi again.

[dawndelion-winery]

Death Do Us Part Not

The types of immortal lovers they are in your every reincarnation

Ft. Dainsleif, Scaramouche, Zhongli

Dainsleif:

The one who pursues you in every lifetime

The most painful part of each century was watching you succumb to your feeble mortality as you withered away before him

But it was never enough closure for him to give up on you

So he searched for you every time you left him, all alone in the forsaken world he roamed

And every time, he'd find you, approaching you with that same longing hesitance

Be it as a friend or lover, he was there for you in every lifetime, because to him, there was no one else

He's always been patient, after all

Ever your loyal knight, he stays true to his chivalry until the very end

You in all your lives will never know peril or anguish from the moment you're within his reach

You look exhausted, he thinks. Yet even that does nothing to dull your appeal to him. He still thinks you're worth every risk, and every sacrifice.

"No matter how far you may be, I will find you. And I will return to you, whether you recall me enough to miss me or not, for only by your side may my heart rest at ease. Such is my yearning for you, and thus for you am I this hopeless, lovesick fool."

Scaramouche:

The one you keep bumping into, so much so that it has to be fate

He's crafty, and he knows better than to press for your affection lest he end up pushing you away

So he waits

He always finds you because of course he does, he's drawn to you, inexplicably, helplessly, and unconsciously

Yet every time, he plays the waiting game, slowly inserting himself into your life

He knows he has to appear in your dreams by this point, every encounter feeling like deja vu to you

Inevitably, you find yourself attached

He worms his way into your life as though he was always meant to be there

And frankly, you believe he is

Scara feels nothing but contentment as he strokes your hair, knowing his schemes had succeeded once again in pulling you to him. He seems too perfect to be real, so familiar with your preferences, so ideally catered to your type that it's hard to believe he's yours.

"Would you believe me if I said I exist for you?" he murmurs, kissing the top of your head. "The sun knows no splendour like your smile, and the oceans know no torrent like the warring storms you wage in my soul. So believe me, even if only in this moment, as the stars align in your grace and freeze my breath with the chill if the night air. Let my tongue feel heavy like lead unless it is to whisper sweet adoration to you...and may you trust in it, that I only speak my truth."

Zhongli:

The one you always end up falling with in the end

There is not a doubt in his mind that you are the only one for him

Yet he could never quite bring himself to say the same for you

If he thought you'd live a happier life without him, he's more than ready to support you from the shadows without you even knowing he existed

Even if it meant seeing you with someone else

But at the end of the day, there's only so much he can manage to do without your knowledge

From the moment your eyes meet, he knows he's done for; he's falling in an endless spiral and can't bring himself to let you go

"Please, be happy," he whispers to you with his hands on your shoulders, his gaze beseeching you. With a ghost of a kiss on your forehead - one you're not even sure made contact - he disappears.

Just like that you're left to ponder if he was a mirage. Yet the memory of him feels too real, his image in your mind's eye far too vivid, even in memories you swear you've never experienced, but are undeniably yours.

"I'll await your return," he says in your memory. "And I will continue to cherish the thought of you then, to crave your phantom touches until you replace them with your presence."

Taglist: @myluvkeiji @aqui-soba @favonius-captain @tiredsleep @raincxtter @gensimping-for-all @irethepotato @almond-adeptus @mx-kamisato @yuzuricebun @chaosinanutshell @heizours @haliyamori @callmemeelah @sadlonelybagel @plinkuro @thevictoriousmoon @mastering-procrastinating @missesclaus @cxlrose @miss-fantazmagoria @astrequa @kokomist @lemonswriting @eowinthetraveller @ajaxstar @boundedbyfate @the-lost-anime-dad @ash-astrophel @moonbyunniee @greyrain23 @heavenlyfloof

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #56] Engaging in Pacifism

READ THIS FIRST : the first bad decision

warnings: red witch (booooo), starlovers (yaaayyy)

a/n: okay just this one for tonight cause I'm rushed off my feeeet I'm sorry!!! but read the drabble first hehehe, trust me <3

wc: 5.7K

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

"Dangerous," is the word that Jeongguk chooses to whine when you're checking yourself over in your bedroom mirror. Rolling your eyes, angled just right so that he can see your reflection, you can't help but smile. "That outfit, B... Fucking hell. Just come back to bed."

It's not an option, and you both know it.

"Can't," you simply say. "I'll be late."

He groans a little more, rolling his body face down into your sheets. "Who cares? Cancel your meeting."

Turning to face him, you're amused by just how defeated he's pretending to be. You know he's partially playing it up. He's a little apprehensive of your plans for the day, even if you did check beforehand that he was okay with everything.

You walk to the bed, and lazily clamber on top of him. Straddling his ass as you hold his waist, you give him a little squeeze before you lay down. He grunts, but doesn't mind the weight of your body on of his. In fact, he reaches back to stroke your side (and your ass, but you don't mention it). Likes having you so close. Wants to keep you there.

Pressing teeny tiny kisses into his neck, you remedy all of his woes, even if just for a moment.

"You know I can't, Gguk."

"Can."

"And risk Hayun putting a curse on me?" You tease, knowing that Hayun isn't the type to dabble in witchcraft. She's too centred on her own perception of reality to invest her time in things beyond her control. "You want me to die, huh? Only just got me and already wishing me away?"

"Shut up, you goblin," he groans as he rolls over beneath you, the weight of your body no hindrance to his strength. There's an innate way your bodies tangle together. It's almost impossible to comprehend that you haven't been together for a lifetime. His arms wrap around your back, keeping your chest pressed to his. "I'm trying to make you stay."

"I'll be an hour," you hum against his neck. Pulling back, you cross your arms over his chest, and rest your chin on your wrists. Jeongguk looks down towards you, his chin pressing slightly into his neck. It's an angle you've always loved; how beautifully human he looks. The tip of his nose is accented, and there's no focus on appearing as pretty, or handsome. He's simply Jeongguk, and he's all yours. "Two, tops."

His hands begin to stroke up and your back, soothing both him and you in the process.

"You wanna go for dinner later?" He asks, itching for the meeting with Hayun to be over and done with already.

"We not heading to Tae's place?"

It's become a tradition for everyone to gather at Taehyung's on the evenings before his shows. Today will be no different, and Jeongguk knows that. He just wants the chance to debrief with you first.

"Mhmm," he says, attempting to nod, but the way he's angled his chin prevents any real movement. "Grab dinner, then head over?"

"Find somewhere to eat while I'm out," you tell him. Raise yourself to press a quick kiss to his lips, then climb off your bed. He lets you go, even if he doesn't want to. "In fact, meet me at the cafe in, like, an hour? Give me an excuse to leave early."

"Deal."

The knowledge that Jeongguk will be at your beck and call—a knight in shining armour, ready to steal you away from the wicked red witch—eases you through the anticipation of the subway ride over to the cafe.

He's with you for the journey. Stays on a couple extra stops to go to the gym. Promises you that he's just a call away.

The cafe you're in isn't one that you particularly care for. Just a chain brand with no discerning features. The coffee is cheap, and the furniture is drab. You had suggested the place to Hayun, 'cause you didn't want to tarnish one of your favourite spots with memories of her.

You think you're being discreet as you turn your phone face down.

You're not, and the conscientious effort you've gone to only makes it more obvious as you cross your legs and adjust in your seat. In the middle of a busy coffee shop, your poise is a little more refined than usual. Awkward, in fact.

Across the table, in all her red glory, sits Hayun. Lips, nails, ruby pendant hanging around her throat. She's fire and flames, and can't help but look at you like you're watery and weak.

There's a beauty to her that words fail to convey. It's tangible. Beauty you can see. The kind she could capitalise on, if she had any interest in it—but she doesn't. She values her skills and would rather make a name for herself that way.

It's not like there's some considered effort for her to look the way that she does, all svelte and feline. Is just how she looks: a beauty that won't fade with age, even if it goes no deeper than skin.

Beneath the warmth of her cherried exterior, Hayun is cold: to the touch, to the ones she loves, to the ones she doesn't. You're curious as to what made her this way; if perhaps she was raised with money in the place of love, or if witnessing a nasty divorce reduced her capacity to indulge in frivolous endeavours of the heart. 

Some curiosities are better left that way. She'll never divulge her personal affairs to you, and you'll never ask her to. Anything you learn will come from the people who care about you both—and considering they do care about you both, you think that perhaps she can't be all bad.

That's the thing about humans, mind you. Within each of us are a million different versions of ourselves. The barista at your favourite coffee shop knows a different version of you than your boss does. Hoseok knows a different version of you than Jeongguk does. It's not to say that any of these versions of you are inauthentic. There's overlap. Baseline traits. Things that everyone will experience from an interaction with you.

And so even though you know you're not getting the best version of Hayun, you trust that there is, at the very least, a better version.

Glancing at your phone with a jaded sense of curiosity, she's trying to seem uninterested—but she caught sight of Jeongguk's beaming face. Of course she's curious. Wonders when the picture was taken. The chain of events that led to it, and whether or not he was the one to set it as your wallpaper.

He liked to do that, she remembers. Subtle possession. She used to tease him for it. Doubts that you did.

In fact, she doubts you do many of the things she did. The stuff that drove him wild—the good and the bad. Knows she wasn't exciting in the childish way that Jeongguk seemed to wish she was, but in the sophisticated sense that he didn't understand. Always thought it gave her an edge. Was like an itch he couldn't scratch.

One look at you, and she knows he isn't with you for sophistication.

It's funny, because if you were to know of this thought process, you'd think that she was the childish one.

Both you and Hayun battle against one another internally; she just vocalises her disdain more often. You've no idea where the root of her issues resides, nor just how insidious her contempt for you is.

As you pull your hand back from your phone to your lap, she gives you a look, as if to say, ' Been there, done that'.

You don't take offense, because there's no point. It seems like whatever you do will be met with contempt from Hayun.

But she is here, and that's something.

She could have said no.

She could have said yes, then cancelled at the last minute. She could have said yes, not cancelled, and still not shown up.

Instead, she sits in front of you—at your request—because even if it doesn't always seem like it, there are some people in this world that she cares about, and recently, they've been asking her to be a little kinder to you.

It's not that she intends to make things right with you —what's the point?—it's just that she doesn't want to make things wrong with them .

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure?" She eventually asks, and almost manages to sound friendly.

Of all the uncomfortable situations you've ever found yourself in, this meeting ranks pretty highly on the list of things you never want to experience again. There's no point in mincing your words. Straight and to the point. That's what this needs.

"I wanna know if you're planning on coming to Tae's show," you state all rather plainly. A small glimmer of pride swells in your chest for not beating around the bush. "As I'm sure you've been told, it's—"

"A special one," she nods, jaw a little tense. Casting her eyes down, it's hard to read the emotion on her face. "Yeah. I know."

You nod because her interruption stifles your new-found confidence in the face of adversity. There's only two people you imagine she will have heard this from—Nabi, or Taehyung himself. You're putting bets on Nabi. Her attempts at pacifying things recently have been noticed and appreciated by you, even if they've been fruitless.

Nabi's also the one who kept telling you how 'special' the effort you're going to is, so it'd make sense for Hayun to also refer to it by such a term.

As much as you downplay it, you really are going to a lot of effort. Every other show has been about Taehyung, and getting his name out there.

Now that it is, and he's drawing in gallerists through association with his name alone, it'd be foolish not to use it to your benefit.

Or, more specifically, Jeongguk's.

Knowing that the evening will be about him, the last thing you want is to stick him between a rock and a hard place.

But it would seem that perhaps fate is on your side, this time.

"I'm out of town," Hayun continues as she looks back up towards you with a smile that you can't really work out. It isn't insincere, as such, but it also fails to convey any genuine happiness.

"Oh?" You question, encouraging more without specifically asking for it.

With a sigh, she reclines back into her chair, crossing one of her legs over the other and mutters, "Suppose you'll find out soon enough, regardless."

Something about this—the idea of secrets being kept from you—makes your skin all hot. Prickly. Like you've been stung by a bee. Wasp, maybe. Something a little more intrusive, perhaps. It's insidious. Wraps around you like ribbon on a present just for Hayun; your insecurities boxed up with a pretty little bow. Just what she wanted.

"Well," she begins again. "You know I was late to Seoyeon and Yoongi's trip?"

You nod, trying to look like you actually give a shit. Are too consumed with thoughts of Jeongguk to properly engage your brain. "Job interview, right? Up in Seoul?"

She nods now, too. Her smile seems a little more sincere, now. "Didn't think I'd get it, but they called last week. Want me to come up for a trial. I go tomorrow, and should it all go well, then I'll be back in Seoul for good."

"Oh," you say with earnest surprise—and suddenly you realise your skin no longer feels hot. The pink that has stained your skin fades. Any irritation is simmered. "Congratulations. You must be happy?"

She's coy as she admits that she is. "Been dying to get back up to Seoul ever since I left it. Coming home is nice, and all, but it isn't where I'm meant to be." There's a pause. Reflection. Acknowledgement. "I think we both know I've outgrown this place."

You'd argue that this place has outgrown her, but you won't be petty. Not now.

"That's really great, honestly," you smile. "What's the job?"

"Seamstress, still," she explains. "But for the wardrobe department at one of the big networks. I've a friend already on the props team, so she was able to pass my details along. Who you know, not what, am I right?"

It's the same with every industry, you think. Is why you've had to work so damn hard with Taehyung's shows; starting from scratch has not been easy.

"Yeah, quite right," you agree. "Still, you must be so pleased. Have you told everyone else?"

"Really pleased. And most people. I haven't told Jeongguk, though, if that's what you're asking."

It would appear you're paper thin, but you don't really care. Transparency is good, here. Needed.

Hayun seems to agree, as she then asks, "So what's the deal with you guys? I hear you're official?"

For some reason, the bluntness of such a question makes you hesitate. Perhaps it's her, or perhaps you're just still not used to this new development. "Yeah. We've been seeing each other for a while, so it makes sense, right?"

"Right," she accepts, but can't help herself from stirring the pot just a little bit. "He told you, right? About the kiss?"

You briefly consider throwing the chair you're sitting upon directly at her face.

Instead, you smile. "Right."

"Good. Just checking. Not the kinda thing you'd wanna find out months later, yanno?" She says, pretending as if she's telling for your benefit.

"No, you're right," you agree. Know that you shouldn't be petty, but god , her smile is so smug and red that you want to slap it right off of her gorgeous face. Violence is never the answer, but sometimes a slap is deserved—you just know you'd be furious if Jeongguk ever pulled shit like that. Can't be a hypocrite. "Should probably thank you, though. It gave him a little clarity on what he really wanted."

Her jaw is tense for a moment, but she eases it with a subdued laugh and a shake of her head. "You're welcome, I suppose. Guess you guys really were meant to be."

Her phrasing is odd; as if she knows something you don't. Too long has been spent second-guessing people. You're trying to fret less. Be more proactive in understanding the things that confuse you. This includes Hayun.

"Whatcha mean?"

She shrugs. Laughs. "You and that damn glitter. Been the bane of my life for years, now. Nice to know it wasn't all for nothing."

"Sorry?"

"Well, you know," Hayun says, as if you do. You've no fuckin' idea what on earth she's on about.

"I'm afraid I'm lost," you question with an awkward laugh.

Furrowing her brows, Hayun looks just as confused as you feel. "The party? Jeongguk? Wait... When did you and Jeongguk meet each other?"

"Around this time last year," you reply with an air of caution. "A little bit before that, maybe."

"Oh..." she says—and then laughs. Really laughs. "Oh my God."

You stay silent.

"You actually don't remember, do you?" She gasps, realising that you've no idea what's so funny. "This is so cursed. God, I mean, it was years ago now. If Nabi hadn't remembered your name when she was first introduced to you, then I might not have even realised, to be honest."

"I'm still lost."

"You ever go to parties out towards the west of town? Sanghyun's place?"

You're silent.

Haven't heard that name in years. Everyone who went to university in your city knew Sanghyun's place. It was on the outskirts of the city, so everyone would have to bundle into taxis to get there, but his grandparents had left him some land, so he was a free agent as far as hosting ragers was concerned.

You rarely ever went, but you and Danbi would always be skint before your monthly payday from your part-time jobs, and splitting a taxi and a bottle was always cheaper than going for drinks downtown.

"Everyone did."

"Everyone did," she nods in reply. "You're, what? The graduating year below me?"

"Think so," you nod, having never given it much thought before.

She shrugs now. Is deliberately a little vague, her cherry-stained lips pursed tightly together as she scans your expression. "Think about it a little harder. Inevitable overlap."

"So..."

"So Jeongguk's always been a little shit when it comes to kissing girls he shouldn't," she says with a smirk. "Just can't help himself."

Jeongguk is loyal as a dog. Comes back like a retriever. Defends like a German shepherd.

He's not perfect, and he's made mistakes—but you don't think what happened with Hayun defines him. She obviously knows it must be a sore spot, so is applying a little pressure just to make you wince.

"We'd been hooking up ages by that point," she continues, reeling off lore you really could care less to learn about. Who in their right mind talks about hooking up with someone's boyfriend right in front of them? However, when you think about it and remember that, yes—Jeongguk is your boyfriend—you can't help but feel a little smug. "I was finally thinking maybe we should give it a proper go, yanno, actually be together—" You hide your revulsion well, but you do also consider violence again. "—but then he had a little hissy fit over me talking to some guy at a party."

Her flippancy over hurting his feelings makes your skin crawl. She's always been like this in the time you've known her. Careless. Inconsiderate. You know you're biased, but you don't think she was ever worthy of Jeongguk's affection.

You're also well aware that no matter how she frames it, she had no intention of ever trying to make things work with Jeongguk. If she wanted to, she could have.

It's a fact of life you don't enjoy, but a fact of life nonetheless. The lessons Jeongguk learned with Hayun have shaped him into the man you adore, so you try not to simmer.

She doesn't notice your discontentment. Continues on her little trip down memory lane, dragging you along whether you like it or not.

"Anyway, that night was a whole mess. Didn't see him for a little while, then the next I knew, he was covered in glitter, spouting all this shit about how it's okay to kiss your friends, 'cause me and him were technically just friends, and it's what we did, so why shouldn't he do it with his other friends," she says, rolling her eyes. "Turns out it wasn't a friend. Just some random girl he didn't know, but things were never really the same after that."

The way she shrugs her shoulders, you'd almost be forgiven for thinking she looks defeated.

"And this concerns me... how?" You ask as if the cogs aren't already turning in your brain. You know what she's getting at, and the insinuation behind her very specific mention of 'just some random girl.'

It just doesn't seem fathomable. You'd remember meeting Jeongguk. Surely, you would.

The thing is, you've had your fair share of blurry kisses in the muddled haze of excessive alcohol consumption. Everything before Seokjin had been tucked into a lovely little wicker basket in your mind: lid on, long forgotten about, never to be riffled through ever again.

You've vague recollections. Know that you and Danbi referred to an allusive stranger as 'Monsieur Lip-Ring' for a few weeks.

Danbi hadn't seen him, and that defining feature of him was all you could remember. You'd kept an eye out for him at the next party, but there were no lip rings in attendance, and soon enough, the memories got filed away.

Hayun rolls her eyes. Won't give you credit, but she knows you're smarter than this. Doesn't think it takes a genius to work it out.

"You were tagged in someone's photos from that night," she tells you a little dismissively. Considers how much she wishes to divulge. Chooses against mentioning the deep dive she and Nabi had done after the night in question. She also doesn't disclose the fact she had you blocked for years as a result of it. "Nabi sent me a voice note the first evening she met you. I hadn't given that night at Sanghyun's much thought for years—then there you were. Jeongguk's plus one. Still glittery, apparently."

Suddenly, Nabi's coldness with you that night begins to snap into place. While Jimin was right—she is just shy at first—you always knew it felt like more than that.

When you'd been dating Seokjin, the glitter had been an annoyance to him. A warning sign. A marker. Identifier. Told everyone within a metre radius of him that he was off-limits (which, of course, was a nightmare for his wandering eyes).

And somehow, entirely unaware of the implication, you'd given Jeongguk the exact same marker all those years ago. Stained him in shimmer where Hayun thought red should be. Wised her up to the fact that perhaps other people did want him, and that she shouldn't have been so careless. The damage was irrevocably done by that point.

"I sorta figured you and Gguk had stayed in touch," she shrugged. "Like I said, things were never really the same after that night, so it would have made sense."

"He's never mentioned it."

"I mean, he was pretty drunk," she supposes. Had never considered that he didn't realise how interwoven your lives were. "I'm many things, but I'm not sour without reason."

"I had no idea," you feebly admit, still not sure you quite believe what she's saying. "Sorry. For, y'know... kissing him."

She shrugs. Finds it a little funny, now that she isn't so spiteful. "We weren't together. And nor were you when I kissed him a few months ago, so I guess we're even."

The difference is that your motives hadn't been half as cruel as hers. You'd been seeking solace in a stranger; she'd been using him as revenge.

It's only now that you realise it had never been about him.

It had been about you .

Hayun's actions had put you and Jeongguk through hell together. Reignited feelings of inferiority that had ravaged your brain. Manipulated Jeongguk into confusion over his feelings, encouraging him to make decisions that could only hurt you. While he's got his own free will, you're no stranger to the emotional labour that comes with complex boundaries and finally getting attention from someone you used to beg for it from.

Her argument of being 'even' doesn't even come close.

The acts might not be so dissimilar, but the intentions? The impact?

You think she's out of her own damn mind.

"Look, I'll be out of your hair soon enough, but I'll be back to visit from time to time," she says, gathering her napkins and half-drunk coffee cup back up and placing them on the tray. "I won't cause you any trouble, as long as you don't cause me any."

"No planning on it," you assure her, quite frankly speechless by her audacity.

"Then we're settled," she says with a soft smile, getting to her feet. "Truce."

She doesn't say goodbye. Leaves the tray of her discarded items for you to deal with, and swans out of the coffee shop without a care in the world.

As far as she's concerned, the conversation is done. No point in hanging around. She's still got packing to do and, quite frankly, cannot wait to leave this city. Has already been here for too damn long. Was never meant to be here forever. Is destined for bigger, better things. You'd argue that she's destined for the superficial, meaningless glitz and glam of Seoul.

Unlike your city, it doesn't have a heart, but nor does she. Perhaps it's apt.

Reaching for your phone, you're surprised it's barely even been half an hour. Jeongguk'll still be at the gym, so you drop him a message to let him know you'll meet him with coffee afterwards. Not from here.

Instead, you hop on the subway and ride the two extra stops it takes to get to the area where his gym is. Stop by his favourite coffee shop, because if you can give him the best, you will. Pick up two coffees to go, and leisurely make your way up the road.

By the time you reach the gym, he's already waiting. Is perched against a windowsill, a pretty smile on his silver-hooped lips, star-speckled eyes shining just for you.

"That was quick," he hums in approval, reaching for the hand of yours that isn't carrying the coffee holder. Pulling you in for a quick kiss, it's almost dizzying just how much you adore this. Being with Jeongguk is just so effortlessly easy. "How'd it go?"

Nodding as you pass him over his coffee, you try to gather a succinct response. All you can think about is your shared history with Jeongguk and whether or not he's as clueless as you've been.

"Yeah, fine," you say, a little distracted by the way he looks.

There's a sheen to his skin, the glow of a post-workout high settling into the atmosphere around him. Something about him like this always makes you lose your mind a little. How you can be expected to have a reasonable conversation is beyond you.

"Yeah, fine?" He laughs. "That's all?"

"Well, I mean, better than fine, I guess," you smile, knocking your head to the side to encourage him to walk along with you. As he stands up straight to his full height, his fingers intertwining with yours, you're even more jelly-legged and heart-eyed than you previously had been.

"Yeah?" He hums, encouraging you to continue.

"She's not gonna be here for the show," you tell him. "Is heading back up to Seoul."

"Oh?"

His tone is nonchalant, laced with nothing but indifference. There's no second-guessing of his feelings nor any confusion. He simply doesn't care. As you explain the conversation, Jeongguk's reaction is perfectly stoic.

It's not that he isn't glad to be free of her presence; it's just that he's monitoring your inflexions as you speak and trying to make sense of how you feel. Thinks that your opinion on the matter is far more important.

"It's a relief, right?" He asks, ensuring he doesn't just assume how you feel.

"Yeah," you admit. "I hate having to mentally prepare myself before seeing our friends, yanno? She always just made things..."

"Miserable?" He offers.

You laugh, not wanting to paint her in such a negative light, but know it's the perfect way to describe it.

"Difficult," you say instead, squeezing his hand. "Y'know, I think I found out why she hates me so much."

Jeongguk chirps when you say this. "Watcha mean?"

Hayun's contempt has never been hidden. He just always assumed it was an obvious reason: he loves you. That's enough to make any clingy ex a little bitter.

"When did we first meet?" You ask in response.

The question seems a little out of place. Jeongguk furrows his brows, looking down towards you as you walk by the river.

"Like the date?"

"Just in general," you say, knowing that you're coming across a little cryptic. There's a lightness to your tone, which confuses him even more.

"I could probably work out the exact date," he tenderly says. "You want me to?"

"No," you smile at how sweetly he tries to answer your questions to the best of his ability. "Don't need specifics."

You perplex Jeongguk in a way that he finds it impossible not to adore. Nothing is ever entirely straightforward, and he's thankful for it. Likes how much you keep him on his toes, without making him chase you.

"Okay, well, it was last year, right? Last April, maybe?"

"Y'see, that's what I thought!" You exclaim a little.

"Okay?" He laughs.

His grip on your hand is secure, swinging it slightly as he tosses his empty coffee cup into the community trash collection by a lamppost along the riverside path. Passing your coffee cup to him, he tosses yours in, too. Gives little thought to helping you out with teeny tiny tasks. Makes your life easier, 'cause it fulfils him in a way he doesn't know how to explain. He just knows that he'd run to the end of the earth and back for you.

"You ever go to Sanghyun's?"

"Who?"

"Party guy. Had an old house—"

"Oh, on the outskirts?" Jeongguk chirps, barely able to recall any of the nights spent there. He just knows that he did, indeed, spend many a night there. "Yeah, a few times. They were never much fun."

"Too much drama?"

"Wasn't a party at Sanghyun's if there wasn't drama," he laughs. "Too much alcohol for such weak livers. You go to some, too?"

"A few."

"Funny," he says. "Imagine if we met."

It seems as if Jeongguk is just as slow as you are. It's just as unfathomable to him as it was to you that he could have met you without remembering.

"Hayun seems to think we have."

Jeongguk stops walking. Doesn't let go of your hand. "What?"

Turning to face him, there's a softness to your eyes. Dusted in glitter, you're every bit as ethereal as you always are.

"That's literally impossible," he says, quite positively affronted. "I'd remember—"

"You ever kiss anyone that wasn't Hayun at those parties?"

He swallows. Doesn't remember doing it, as such, but remembers the subsequent fights with Hayun about it. Fears that you being aware of this will make you think it's a pattern of behaviour for him—that he can't be trusted.

Pulling your phone from your pocket, you tap through to Instagram. Scroll down your archived posts until you find the blundering mess of your university days. Hidden for years now, you've never been able to bring yourself to delete the pictures. Not fully. They're memories you've long forgotten, but whenever you look at them, you feel as if perhaps it wasn't all that long ago.

As you pass your phone over to him, his brows furrow. On your screen is a much younger iteration of you with Danbi: a photo taken in a mirror that Jeongguk knows damn well he's got half a dozen photos in, too. You're both covered in glitter, and drinks are in your hands.

Before the time of Instagram carousels, there was only a single picture, but as he scrolls up, he can see it didn't stop you from posting multiple pictures on the same day. You were a fiend back then. Had little regard for the sanctity of other people's feeds. Are surprised people didn't unfollow you for the sheer amount you posted.

"What am I—" he starts, but cuts himself off once he realises exactly what he's looking at.

In the background of a group picture—you, Danbi, and some people you no longer remember the names of—is a smile that you know you'll never forget. Not now.

Laughing and joking with a friend—Jimin, you think, but can only see the back of his head—is none other than Jeon Jeongguk himself.

Younger then, his hair is long, and his lip is pierced. His tattoos aren't quite as intense, but you can almost hear his laugh through the screen. You know the music must have been loud, because you think it would have been impossible to hear such a melody and not fall head over heels.

Eventually, studying his intense gaze, you quietly say, "Hayun reckons you ended up covered in glitter that night, somehow."

Part of him thinks this is some sort of elaborate hoax. Like you're playing some sort of joke.

"That night?" He asks.

You nod. "That night, Gguk."

He looks between you and the phone with a taut sense of confusion. While your words make sense, the reality of it all feels somewhat unbelievable. If it weren't for the fact the photos are on your account, maybe you'd have trouble believing it, too.

You'd gone in search of proof—of something to make sense of it all—during the subway ride over to Jeongguk's gym. Had scrolled and scrolled and scrolled, knowing that Hayun learned of your identity through Instagram.

It's sort of funny, how Jeongguk first used Instagram to reach out to you last year. While yes, you had a lot of mutual connections, you hadn't given it much thought. Barely even considered that maybe you'd have ever been tagged in the same posts.

Eyes settling on yours, his expression is hard to read until a smile eventually breaks through the clouds of his confusion.

"You mean to tell me we could have figured this shit out years ago?"

Puffing your cheeks up, there's an endearing quality to your awkwardness, and the way you don't let go of his hand. Instead, you begin to swing his arm lightly with yours. Shrug a little. "Looks like it."

He pulls you closer. Smiles when you get up on your tippy toes. Whispers against your lips, "Y'know, I think the universe wants us together."

Your adoration-encased giggle is cut off by a kiss so cosmic you know he must be right. Like ships in the night, you'd passed one another by until the time was right. Fate couldn't help herself. Continually tried to weave you together before you were ready.

"Get ready for Tae's at mine," Jeongguk instructs as he finally begins to lead you both back along the path.

"Got nothing to wear," you begin to argue, but it's a casual event. The evening before the big show, you're only going to Tae's studio for a few drinks. It's not a big deal. You know that you could show up in a bin bag, and no one would care.

"You already look nice," he tells you, not thinking you need to change. "But it doesn't matter. Let's raincheck dinner. I need a shower, and I need you in there with me."

Laughing at how shameless he is, you roll your eyes. "Say please ."

"Please, baby."

And how can you not fold, when he speaks like that?

"Fine."

He pulls you a little closer. Presses a kiss to the top of your head. Whispers, "I love you."

[lilacmingi]

BLOOD BAGS

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works. Ageless blogs and blank blogs risk getting blocked

Pairing: Vampire!Namjoon x human!fem reader

Word count: 1,900

Note: This imagine is from my Wattpad so there won’t be any extra parts or continuations

"Sneak attack!" You exclaimed while jumping onto Namjoon's back.

"Woah there!" He chuckled, placing his hands underneath your thighs to keep you from sliding off.

"Sorry, I thought you knew I was running up behind you." You murmured, clinging tightly to him like a koala.

"I may have heightened senses, but sometimes you can catch me off guard."

"Woah. Namjoon the oh-so-powerful vampire with all these special abilities was caught off guard?" You teased lightheartedly.

"Hey, vampires allowed to be distracted too."

He got a better grip on your thighs and hoisted you higher onto his back before continuing to walk forward.

The both of you went on a spontaneous outing that day, doing whatever you felt like. From stopping to check out small shops to visiting local art galleries. It was a wonderful day filled with new memories you would cherish for a lifetime, though something had been slightly off. Namjoon seemed a little distracted or unfocused at times. You would make a comment about something you found in a shop and his response would be delayed or he would just hum and give a small nod. Assuming he just had something weighing on his mind, you brushed it off and decided to bring it up later that evening.

Your impromptu outing had lasted the entire day and you were on your way home just as the sun started to set, painting the sky in various pastel hues of pink and purple. Namjoon cast his eyes upon the scenery above and thought of the perfect way to end your date.

"Would you like to stop and watch the sunset?" He asked.

"I'd love to."

You slid off his back and the both of you went to find a grassy area to view the natural phenomenon. A shallow hill is where you found yourself sitting a few short moments later, the lush grass soft underneath you as you got comfortable on the ground.

The colors above had shifted from a pale pastel to a vivid mix of fuchsia, purple, and orange that streaked the sky like strokes from a paintbrush.

"Wow. It's stunning. I love how you can see all the different colors." You marveled.

"Yeah. It's really pretty."

"Just a couple minutes ago the colors were pale and now they're so rich and vibrant."

Namjoon hummed. "It's interesting how a sunset can change so quickly."

As the sun dipped lower beyond the horizon, the colors in the sky became even more vibrant. Sunsets like those were your favorite, though they were hard to catch since they didn't always look that saturated.

You turned to look at Namjoon only to find him staring fixedly at a section of grass a few feet away, his strong brows pulled together.

Though you planned to ask him about his unusual behavior after you got home, now seemed like a good time.

You gently called out his name to gain his attention.

"Hm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"You can ask me anything, baby." He smiled softly and brushed your hair out of your face.

"I'm not sure if it's all in my head, but you've been a little off today. Are you alright?"

"Yeah."

"Namjoon, please be honest. You can trust me." You assured, knowing he wasn't telling you the truth.

He hesitated before speaking.

"Okay. I haven't fed in three days and it's making me space out a little."

"Namjoon! You know how bad it is for you not to feed." You chastised while delivering a smack to his arm. "Why haven't you fed?"

"I don't know." He shrugged. "I kept putting it off because I couldn't find the time and now it's starting to catch up to me."

"I worry about you, Joon. You need to take care of yourself. You're always make sure I eat properly and you should do the same."

"I know." He sighed.

"Come on." You stood up and held your hand out to help him up. "We're going home so you can feed. Right now."

"We don't have to rush. We can sit here and enjoy the rest of the sunset if you'd like."

"No. I'm too worried about you. We can watch sunsets any day. Let's get home."

He chuckled softly, placing his hand in yours. "Okay."

Since the two of you were already on your way home when you stopped to watch the sunset, it didn't take you very long to reach your destination.

As soon as you arrived at Namjoon's apartment, he disappeared into the kitchen in search of what his body needed (and craved). You heard the sound of the refrigerator door opening and some items inside being shuffled around.

"Oh no." You heard him mutter.

"What's wrong?"

"We have a problem."

You scurried into the kitchen to see him staring into the fridge.

"What's the problem?" You inquired.

"I don't have any more blood bags."

"Oh." Was all you said.

"I can just call Jin. I'm sure he'll be able to get me some."

"Okay." You nodded.

You watched as Namjoon tapped on his phone and called Jin, raising the device to his ear.

"Hey, we've got a problem."

You could hardly hear Jin's voice on the other end, relying on Namjoon's responses to figure out what was going on. You didn't want to start worrying until you knew the severity of the situation.

"Yeah. You wouldn't happen to be able to get me any, would you?... Oh... Wait. Two days? Jin, I can't. I've put it off for too long.... Okay. Thanks." He hung up the phone and sighed.

"He doesn't have any?" You surmised.

"No. Not for two days at least."

"Jeez." You sighed, running your hand through your hair. "Have you ever gone five days without feeding?"

"No."

Namjoon looked visibly stressed, pacing around the kitchen while raking his fingers through his hair. Seeing him in such a state had your own anxiety levels rising. As far as you were aware, and judging by his demeanor, he had never been in this situation before.

"Can't you go hunt an animal?" You attempted to provide a solution.

He shook his head. "I don't think I'm in the right condition to be hunting. I doubt I'd be able to catch anything."

You pressed your lips together in thought. The only options were for him to go out and drink from a stranger or...

"Namjoon."

"What is it?" He asked.

"You can feed off me."

"What?" He couldn't believe you were suggesting such a thing.

"There's no way to get blood bags and you're not well enough to go hunt an animal."

"Y/n, I can't. I promised myself when we started dating I would never bite you. Ever."

"I'm offering myself to you though."

"It doesn't matter. I'll feel terrible if I do that."

"I won't." You stepped towards him.

"Y/n, no." He spoke in a tone laced with uncertainty, moving away. You could see a red hue starting to tint his brown irises. "I'm extremely thirsty right now and your scent is stronger than ever. I could really lose it if I'm not careful."

"I trust you."

"I can't." He shook his head.

"Joon, please just do it, before something bad happens. You have my consent. Plus, I'm right here. This is the easiest option. Better to feed now when you're still somewhat in your right mind rather than later."

He paused and actually started to entertain the idea, silently weighing the pros and cons in his head as well as the circumstances. He hated how many good points you made.

"Alright. Fine. But I'm only agreeing because you're so worried about me."

You gave a single nod, stepping forward to close the space between your bodies.

Namjoon hesitantly leaned forward, cupping your face between his hands.

"You're certain you're okay with this?"

"Yes."

His gaze lingered on yours, searching your eyes for any signs of uncertainty before brushing your hair away in preparation, one of his arms sliding around your waist. You anchored your hands on in shoulders in case you were to pass out.

A shiver ran down your spine when you felt the tip of his nose trailing up your neck.

He stopped and placed his lips delicately against your skin, kissing you softly.

"This will hurt a little."

You hummed in response and did your best to ignore the tinge of anxiety you felt. Despite the nerves, you trusted him not to cause you any harm.

Just a couple seconds after Namjoon's warning, you felt his fangs pierce your skin. You gasped and squeezed your eyes shut, instinctively gripping his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin in an attempt to ease the pain in your neck, but it didn't do much. All you could do was stand still and bear it.

To your surprise, the pain started to ease up after a while and was gradually replaced with somewhat of a soothing feeling. The tenseness in your shoulders loosened, your form relaxing in Namjoon's hold as he quietly fed. Though it didn't take long for you to start feeling a little disoriented.

Just as you opened your mouth to inform Namjoon of your sudden lightheadedness, he pulled away.

The slightest bit of blood dotted his lips but he was quick to lick it away.

"Are you okay, love?" He inquired, making sure to hold you firmly in his arms in case you were too weak to stand.

"Yeah. Just the tiniest bit lightheaded."

"Come on. Let's go lie down."

"It's not bad." You assured him. "You pulled away just as I started feeling a little off."

"You should still lie down."

"Okay."

You knew not to continue pushing. If he wanted to make sure you were alright and take care of you, you'd let him do it.

Namjoon helped you to the bedroom where he handed you a stack of his clothes to change into. The garments he chose were a pair of baggy, black sweats made of breathable fabric and a forest green t-shirt, one of the many earthy-toned articles of clothing he owned.

You swapped your current clothes for the ones your boyfriend gave to you. All the while, he was waiting just outside the room, ready to help if you happened to need it.

Once you finished, he reentered the room and the both of you laid down in his comfortable bed, snuggling under the covers that smelled like him.

Namjoon pulled you into his chest and ran his fingers through your hair, gently massaging your scalp every so often. A content smile settled onto your features.

"Earlier you asked if I was okay, but I want to know if you're okay. Are you feeling any better?" You asked him.

"Yes I am. Very much so. Thank you, precious." He pressed a kiss to your temple.

"Any time, Joon." You grinned softly, closing your eyes. "And I mean any time."

He chuckled.

You lifted your head slightly. "I'm serious. If this ever happens again or you're in a situation where you don't have any blood bags, I'm here."

"Thank you, love." He gently stroked your cheek. "Now lie back down. You need to rest."

You did as he said, lowering your head back down to his chest.

The room was quiet. It was a peaceful silence and you ended up falling asleep in Namjoon's comfortable embrace.

Jungkook ♱ Jimin ♱ Yoongi ♱ Taehyung ♱ Hoseok ♱ Jin

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

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[castieltrash1]

Not sure if you’re still taking Gosling sleepover requests but if so...

How Noah would comfort you, and/or how Driver would fantasise about you 👀

i combined your first req with another ask and wrote how noah calhoun would comfort you here!

driver x gn!reader; smut, masturbation, kind of stalker vibes, voyeurism, marking/hickeys/bites/etc, mentions of oral

He fights past the haze of your presence long enough to make it to his apartment, letting out a sigh of relief once the door locks behind him with a distinct click. His hands have an uncharacteristic twitch to them as he rips his right glove off, calloused fingertips tugging desperately at the zipper on his jeans. Six seconds. That’s how long it took to go from the lobby to the second floor, where you lived. One word. All you’d said was “two,” pointing at the respective button in the elevator, unaware that he was already reaching for it; that the lines between what he’d learned about you and the information you knowingly offered had begun to blur.

As he steadies himself, padding over to the couch, he thinks of the first time he saw you up close. Not just in passing, holding a door open, or shifting past you to get his mail. He’d been scoping out the man who lived beneath him, Mr. 305, whose unruly attitude made his already odd hours even more restless. But, instead of finding whoever made his floor shake in the early hours of the morning, he’d found you already pounding on the man’s door, muttering under your breath about the pounding on your ceiling. 

All that kept you apart was one floor, one annoying tenant he couldn’t risk being the reason you moved out. The noise stopped eventually when the man broke his lease without explanation, and the sleepless nights he caused became a distant memory. 

Now, you were the thing keeping him up. His insomniac tendencies of restless legs and periodic nightmares devolved into something greater, an unshakeable arousal that turned to vivid wet dreams the second he let rest overtake him. He was waking up drenched in sweat more times than not, plagued with the thought of your smile, the way your lips curled, and what they’d look like wrapped around his cock instead.

The sight is something he can imagine if he tries hard enough, but the sensation is harder to create. He frees his cock with his bare hand but wraps his gloved palm around it to start. The leather creates a delicious friction that’s almost too uncomfortable to bear, but the foreign feeling bolsters the dissonance between his mind and body, allowing him to believe it’s your touch instead. Still, you’d be gentler, he thinks, coaxing out his orgasm with timid patience. 

Normally, he’s great at waiting -- five minutes, at least -- but not in times like these. When he’s alone, all he knows is hard and fast. Without a partner to focus on or enjoy it with, his arousal becomes more of a hassle, something he needs to get past quickly. You’ve taught him restraint, whether you know it or not. Instead of rough strokes, he gently squeezes up the length of his cock, leather warming against his blood-rushed skin.

A low gasp leaves his lips, your name tumbling out right after. The image of you that flashes in front of his eyes makes him dizzy. You’ve been pushed to your limit, bare and flushed with the exertion of his passion. Its evidence covers you; hickeys, bites, spit, and cum creating a mismatched pattern across your body. The best part is the lustful gaze you give him, lids heavy but still hungry for more.

There’s greater definition in his fantasies now, in the last few days, then before. Your body was something he could never recreate perfectly, no matter his attempts. He needed a visual, just once. A single glimpse would last a lifetime.

It took a few nights, but you finally gave him one.

Parked covertly under your second-floor window, he watched in awe as you undressed after a long day. If it hadn’t been for his own selfish desires, he would’ve told you to get better blinds - or to at least remember to close them before you changed. But, he hadn’t, sitting silently and mentally recording every sliver of exposed skin he could catch. He didn’t touch himself either, not allowing a single distraction to pull his attention from you.

And, even though you retreated to the bathroom before your underwear came off, it was enough. It’s enough now, pulling him over the edge in one fell swoop.

As his release drips down kidskin knuckles, he wonders if you wanted him to watch, and if, next time, you’d let him touch you instead.

gosling sleepover sunday (no longer taking requests!)

[shock]

"Don't just play—do something!", Jack Abele, 01.21.24.

This is a companion piece to the collage I made about moving into the first place that felt like my home back in '21 (shown below). They have matching frames and are displayed together above our dining table! This second piece is a reflection on how my relationship to "home" has evolved since then, especially after proposing to my now fiancé last month. I'm really proud of it!

Text transcript:

FOR YOUR EYES ONLY

In the cold, thin clouds of interstellar space, written in the precise message of starlight:

What made you so interested in fireflies?

Imagine that they propel the environment into play: they STAND OUT, add color, chaos, curves moving behind and below, inside, outward along feedback loops, perplexing positive panic persuaded to make another form of animal art.

Love is a Many-Splendored Thing, a beautiful structure, flamboyantly scuzzy, sassy, a full bouquet of many wild ideas — a dazzling interplay between lightness and unclarity, trying things out, fancy, whimsical records looped with webs, half-truth surface textures composed of swirls within swirls, a performance of information, scene-setting details with many impressive, more tongue-in-cheek, unforeseeable aspects relatively stable and evolving at the same time.

Distinctly transitional.

The trouble with love is it's hard to describe in simple and consistent words. Beyond the jolting familiarity of self-similar, self-referential tessellating hues, the little comedy-drama fictions... you see openness, possibilities toward change; our very existence together antidote to the dull grind of the paradox that we live every moment in an indifferent universe yet having so much fun with friends, local communities, places, faces, even muddy bog holes.

Music! A Tribe Called Quest, The Beastie Boys, The Breeders, Nick Cave, Nine Inch Nails, Soundgarden, Santana and Crosby, Stills, and Nash, mud-caked at Woodstock, picking up Space Age scrap, cutting collaged paper, playing with magical little lights, heretically evolving in this meaningless, magnificent place fine-tuned just right to allow for life, love, and grunge to exist nevertheless.

Maybe what keeps me here, making art, is how beautiful it is for optimism to become the first expression of hope despite danger amid the disparate depth of our universe created by chaos.

Movement characterizes my "youthful, dynamic" journey, escapes to infinite other places somewhere else, afraid of considering complicated survival long-term, wherein risk is worth the reward. But something about your windy city reminded me what strange, cascading effects the fingers of two hands form together, intersect one another, interfere with fate, interlace like light radiating rays woven, at certain points, into dynamic singularities.

Mutualism is a happy hybrid of symmetry and chaos — a relationship, it's like the entire forest is blinking in sync.

Just as the fun is to make up a great story, the writer in me calls this piece, "Don't just play— do something!"

This time around, living offers a profound pivot from playing a game. Today we confront as animals, we're not far from dogs, domesticated punks at heart, manifold.

I am humbled, exhilarated, afraid yet strangely calm and clear "On Bended Knee"

(The term ground seems inapt.)

...Nor is it possible to describe...

The closest feeling to being the world itself? It is to have loved someone so much that you wanted to spend the rest of your lifetime with them, with each other.

We're writing a book. Adding a stroke of paint and words to illustrate what we became, a bright third dimension that can be seen from space to meet the generations to come, to simulate the uncountable whimsies they could achieve.

The mind already knows before the key touches the lock.

To watch firefly swarms with a mangy mutt.

That must be quite a sight to see.

BECAUSE THEY EXIST

NOWHERE ELSE ON EARTH.

[liminalpebble]

Stray: Part 10 and Epilogue

Masterlist link

Stray: Part 10

Loki and Frigga sat across from each other in her private parlor. The younger prince was tapping his foot and fiddling with his hair nervously as he asked, “Are you sure she'll be okay? This must all be so overwhelming for her.”

Frigga smiled placidly and reached out her hand to hold her son's, stilling his restless movements. “She'll be more than fine. They'll take very good care of her. You have my word.”

Frigga let the silence settle for a moment before she said. “I'm glad to meet her. Surprised, but glad nonetheless. I can see why you are so taken with her. She has a good heart...a grateful heart.”

Loki sighed, trying to hide the depth of his feelings in front of the one person whom he could never fool. “You've met many of the men and women I'd grown fond of over the years. Is this so different for you?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant as he eased back into his chair, crossing his long legs, and stroking a finger pensively over his lips.

Frigga nodded, “For you, yes. It's very different. Or rather, you are very different. It's never been anything...real...before, has it? I've never really seen you in love before.”

“What makes you think I'm in love?”

“Love...real love...makes us all spill open a little, and I can see it. She has melted some of that ice around your heart. I didn't think it possible.”

“So you've been watching me, Mother?” he said with a smirk, which Frigga mirrored.

“Perhaps, a bit. I thought it best to let things unfold naturally. But I think the time has come to involved myself. Come with me.”

He followed her to a corner of her study, to a golden chest, where she reached in to lift out a glowing golden apple. “Do you love her, my son? Do you want a lifetime with her? Our lifetime...surpassing her own.”

He took a deep fortifying breath. “I do. So much...so much that it feels like a sort of insanity, a madness. Now that I've known her care and companionship, I can't imagine the remainder of my life without her.”

Frigga grinned and her eyes welled slightly, “Then offer her this. Help her become one of us. Help her learn and explore everything your curious minds crave. Have your adventures with your beloved for eons to come.”

Loki smiled, but just as quickly, it faded and he looked down, eyebrows furrowed with worry. “But Mother, what if she says 'no'? What if she refuses me...now or centuries from now? What if I don't deserve her? What if...”

Frigga put a finger to his mouth to silence him, “Loki, that is how love works. You risk, and you trust and you doubt and you fear, for the sake of another person. It's not a tournament to be won. It's a leap of faith.”

Without any further words, but with tears in both of their eyes, they embraced each other tightly as the prince whispered to his mother, “thank you.”

------

Loki found his human in lavish chambers, adorned in a fine Asgardian gown, and charming half a dozen ladies in waiting with your disarming demeanor. You were twirling around in the voluminous dress with a big smile, like a little girl. You were startled and blushed a little when you realized he was standing there.

“Whew! You scared me! I didn't hear you coming.”

He chuckled, offering his widest, most charming smile. His heart was bursting out of his chest at the mere sight you. “Apologies, darling. No one ever does. You look absolutely ravishing, my lovely princess,” he declared as he spun you around in his arms. He set you down lightly then held both of your hands in his.

You gave him a worried look. “What...what's wrong. Have you been crying?” you asked gently, holding your warm palm to his cheek.

“Yes. Yes I have, but they are tears of the greatest joy. I have to ask you something very important.”

He gestured the ladies away, leaving the two of you alone. You nodded, and felt the breath stop in your throat. The world came to a stand still as you wondered what he was about to say. Loki's hand gleamed green then a radiant flawless golden apple appeared in his hands. “I want to offer you a bite of this apple. If you eat of it, you will have a life as long as mine, become a goddess by my side for ages as we traverse the universe. I can't imagine a life without you...without your love and kindness and cleverness and care and your laugh and the look of joy and gratitude in your eyes when you I've pleased you. I love you...so much. Will you do me the honor of spending eternity with me?”

Giddy excitement shot up like a rocket within you, making your cheeks piping hot and bringing tears to your eyes as you met his intense ones of aquamarine. “I...I don't deserve this.” was the first thought that escaped your lips.

“Darling...you deserve all of this and more,” Loki said, pulling you close to kiss you warmly and softly, holding your face in his careful elegant hands. “Please, be my princess.”

“Yes...yes....yes! I love you, too. Yes,” was all you could say, breathing out the words over and over again as you nodded vehemently. Loki interrupted this stream of affirmation by meeting your lips again, taking his time to taste you. It would be your last kiss with him as a mere mortal.

When you finally took a bite of that otherworldly golden apple, it was the sweetest fruit you had ever tasted; almost as sweet and divine as the destiny ahead of you, almost as sweet and divine as the god holding you.

----

Epilogue

It was a gleaming bright white December morning in Seattle. Rather than rain, ice had dominated every inch of the terrain and snow glistened off the buildings. It was so cold, you thought, but at least it was sunny for a change. As you stood on the balcony of the most luxurious hotel the city had to offer, you were grateful to have this as your final memory of your city (at least for awhile). The sun was shining on you, as bright and fresh as your new life.

In another part of town, a small apartment stood clean and empty, ready for the stories of someone else's life to fill it. A polite letter and the final month's rent were dropped quietly into the landlord's mailbox. All your beloved books, records, and anything else you wanted to hang onto was tucked away, safe and sound, in what Loki called his “pocket universe”. You considered just letting go of everything you owned, pondered the appeal of a blank slate, but Loki dissuaded you. He begged you to keep your records. He wanted to dance with you to the soundtrack of your love's origin story over and over again. He could be sentimental that way.

It felt good to tie up loose ends. You made sure a gracious letter of resignation made its way to Mr. Mullen. Although Loki insisted it was far more polite than what that worm deserved, you were determined to take the high road, and he loved you all the more for that.

The last loose end was your favorite to tie up, and you did so with a big golden ribbon. Janet found a gift and an envelope tucked under the cash register that morning; her name gracing the front in elegant calligraphy. The note was a simple one.

Janet, you are always worthy. You are so young, and I know you're afraid and uncertain, but you will grow and do great things. I know it. I've run off with my prince charming. I hope to see you again someday. All my love. P.S. The gift is something to keep you warm.

Janet read it with tears in her eyes, then she opened the package to find a soft blue scarf. She held it tightly against herself. She was a little startled when her first customer of the day asked her a question, and hurried to dry her eyes.

“Oh! Sir, I'm so sorry! How can I help you?”

She looked up to see the largest man she had ever seen smiling brightly at her as his stunning blue eyes met hers. “I'm so sorry, dear lady. I hope you're not in distress. I wonder if you might aide me in selecting a 'tie'.”

He nodded his head of long blonde hair and took her hand to kiss it.

Janet's eyes went as wide as they could go in shock, and then she giggled uncontrollably, thinking, Jeez, maybe Henry does have a brother after all.

----

Loki stepped lightly over to you as he adjusted his tie and smoothed out the crisp lines of his black suit. “Almost ready, darling?” he asked in his dulcet baritone, as he came up behind you to kiss your bejeweled neck.

“Almost. Can you help me with this zipper?” You asked, giving up your struggle with the very smartly tailored traveling dress. It was a dream of soft royal purple that hugged all of your curves well (which delighted your prince). You'd swear he helped you pick out the ones with zippers in the back just so he had an excuse to do this.

Loki came up close behind you and kissed your cheek. As he deftly slid the pull all the way up he said, “Of course, but you know I enjoy sliding you out of this oh so much more.”

You both let out a mischievous chuckle then kissed sweetly, sighing with satisfaction. He helped you into your pea coat, hat and gloves, before donning his own. Opening the hotel room door for you to exit ahead of him, he said with his biggest dimpled grin, “Ready?”.

You nodded and took his offered arm. “Yes, but where are we going?”

As your polished dress shoes clicked down the hallway side by side, Loki slid his other hand in his pocket, holding tightly to a tattered green loop of leather with his name written on it. He felt his heart warm as he said, meeting your eyes, “Wherever you'd like. The sky's the limit, my love.”

@averagetmblrusser @primrosesposts @fruityfucker @arunabrak @mischief2sarawr @ladyofthestayingpower @acidcasualties @unlucky-number-13 @goblingirlsarah @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokihiddleston @chokeanddagger @lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @marcotheflychair @smolvenger @alexakeyloveloki @littlespaceyelf @little-wormwood @loopsisloops @joyful-enchantress @eleniblue @loz-3 @the-haven-of-fiction @sweetsigyn @muddyorbs @icytrickster17 @holdmytesseract @thenerdyoldersister @thedistractedagglomeration @sailorholly @coldnique @peaches1958 @infinitystoner @peachyjinx @mischiefmaker615 @jennyggggrrr @tripleyeeet @itsybitchylittlewitchy @mochie85 @huntress-artemiss @madi0987 @buttercupcookies-blog @annoyingsweetsstranger @anukulee @aesonmae @angelofasgard16 @salempoe @n3rdybirdee

End Note: My dear sweet readers, I can't thank you enough for all of the love and comments and sharing and feedback. And a big thank you to @mischief2sarawr for the idea request. I fell into this story because I really really needed some softness and love and fluff right now. I hope those of you who read this in need of the same thing have found that comfort too. Sending you all of my love and gratitude, Peb.