#luv when they hear my prayers

[sturnioloho]

he did not need to include this lmfao

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Not A Hero Just A Good Man

Simon Riley x Reader (probably ooc) Simon's home from deployment and he needs his spouse Fluff and very slight hurt/comfort Should be gn!reader, if I messed up anywhere please tell me There is mentions of a girly bodywash that is owned by the reader but... anyone can own those

"I need you to understand that I'm not the nice one out there, luv. I'm not the good cop. I'm not the hero."

You're sitting next to Simon on your shared bed, he's still in his gear, but his mask is in his hands and he's absent mindedly grabbing and rubbing at it.

"Luv, if you knew only half the stuff I've done. The absolute horrendous things I've done to people. And I'd do them again. And I will do them again."

He's growing distressed. His brows are drawn together and his rubbing over the skull part becomes harsh. He'll hurt himself at this rate.

So you get up and kneel down before him, force yourself into his view. Your hands oh so gently take the mask from his and the care with which you put it onto his nightstand chokes Simon up.

You slip your hands into his. He's still wearing his gloves, there's blood all over them.

As he looks down and sees your delicate, perfect hands in his blodied hold, the tears start gathering. He's trying to pull his hands away but you grip him harder. His glistening eyes find yours.

"I didn't marry a hero, Simon. I didn't marry someone who has a nice job or lives in a nice reality."

He's looking to the side trying to avoid your gaze. His hands are still limp in yours, refusing to hold onto you when there's still the gore of his actions clinging to his clothes and his skin.

You're gently easing the gloves off his hands and let them fall to the floor. His knuckles are bloody and split, even under the protective layer.

He swears he lets loose a sob when you bend down to press two soft kisses to the palms of his hands. He's ripping his hands away from you, cradling them to his chest.

"No.", your harsh tone makes his gaze snap back to yours again and when you grab his hands again he reluctantly lets you have them.

"Don't you dare look away from me, Simon Riley." You can see how hard he has to fight to obey your words. You can see his panting breaths get harsher and your grip is so soft, that if he truly didn't want to have you touching him, he could pull away. As if you could ever hold him against his will.

You take one of his hands and press it against your chest, deliberately drawing in deep and steady breaths and waiting until he is following your example.

"I didn't marry a hero, Simon. I married a good man."

You can audibly hear him gulp.

"I married a good man, who is willing to do the ugly work. I married a good man, who gets his hands dirty so the world is just a tiny bit cleaner."

His entire focus is on you as he hangs on to every word you say.

"I married a good man, who does horrible things. But those things need to be done. I'd rather have a good man, like my husband, do them, than someone who doesn't care at all. Someone who finds joy in them. I married a good man. And when you come home, blodied and bruised I will still love you. And when you come home after you did the worst imaginable things, things I don't even know possible, I'll still love you. And when you do horrendous things again, I will still love you. I love you."

He's looking at you and the tears catch in his eyelashes like soft morning dew on the most intricate petals. You have never seen a man more beautiful than your Simon. You have never seen anything more beautiful than the man, he allows you to see through the cracks in his walls.

"Love...", he breathes. And it's reverent, a prayer. As if you are the deity that holds his absolution. As if your words alone can save him from the damnation he suffers.

His hands slowly reach up, cup your cheeks. He's about to pull back when he sees the blood on his hands next to your unblemished face but your hands cover his and you nuzzle into the hold of a killer.

His body bows foreward, into your warmth and his chapped lips fit against yours. As soon as your lips touch he whimpers and your hands find their way to his cheek and neck, holding him close.

You only pull back enough to touch your forehead to his, both of you keeping your eyes closed.

"My Simon.", you whisper into his skin and his arms wrap around you as he lets his head fall to your shoulder, buries his face in your neck and starts shaking.

You grab onto him just as tightly. It's uncomfortable the way you're on your knees half risen to meet him in the middle but you don't care when you start humming and gently swaying.

You don't know if he's crying, probably not, but he's still shaking so you tighten your hold and whisper your love for him into the quiet of your bedroom.

When his breaths start to get quick and shallow again you force him back, cup his face and demand "Simon, look at me."

He does, his gaze is unfocused, and he's panting way too fast, but he's trying to focus on you. He's not too far gone so you check in first "Touch?" He nods in a jerky movement.

Your hands go to his again and you hold both of them to your chest with one, the other one finds his neck and puts gentle pressure there.

"Match my breaths, darling.", you instruct. He obeys.

Today is a good day, as you are able to bring him back from the brink for a second time. Slowly his eyes blink back into awareness and your gentle smile cracks open his ribcage and sets his bleeding heart free.

"There he is. Hi."

"Hi, luv." His voice is horribly rough a splintering sound like old rotten wood breaking apart but he doesn't miss the way your hand on his neck squeezes affectionately.

"Let me give you a shower?" He nods, too tired afer two almost panic attacks to answer. You stand up and offer him a hand which he takes and allows you to pretend to pull him up.

You don't let go of his hand as you pull him into the bathroom, maneuvering him so he can lean back against the sink. You know that he's tired, but you also know that the last thing he needs to see right now is himself, still covered in blood, and you taking care of that mess for him. So you don't give him the opportunity to gaze at the reflection of what's going on in the mirror over the sink.

Once you've eased every piece of armor and clothing off of him, you usher him into the shower, under the warm spray of water before following him.

Once your both under the water, your wrap your arms around him and just hold him. When he sighs you can feel the way his lungs fill up to their limit.

It's a long time before you take the bottle of shampoo into your hands and put some of it in your hands.

"Bend down for me?", you murmur.

Simon gets on his knees before you instead, buries his face in your tummy and relaxes as your hands begin to massage the shampoo into his scalp.

You're careful while rinsing it out and he presses a soft kiss to your tummy before standing up. A thank you and a offering at the altar of the only deity he'll ever worship. Then he's standing again, his hands on your hips, while you begin to lather his body in your own body wash.

You can feel him relax and it doesn't take long before he gives you the gift of his voice, even if it is so say: "Damnit darlin', making me smell like a princess?"

He's grumbling affectionately and you grin. There he is. It's always a good sign when he starts being a grump about stuff he secretly loves. It's always a good sign when he starts with his horrible dry humour.

"No one says that big dangerous men can't be princesses.", you quip back and see the way the corner of his mouth lifts up.

"I'm too manly to smell like...", he squints at the bottle. "Rainbow sunshine." He snorts. "Sounds like something that would come out of a unicorn's ass."

You laugh and slap his chest. "You are the worst, Si. Guess you gotta suck it up and smell like unicorn ass."

"The shit I go through for you.", he grouses and you can hear the grin in his voice.

When you've rinsed him off again he puts his arms around you again and pulls you into him, resting his head on yours.

"Thank you, luv."

"Always, baby."

...

"Now get your unicorn ass out of this shower so I can dry you off and cuddle with you."

He laughs roughly and slaps your backside. "The only one with a magical ass here, is you, luv."

[artdcnaldson]

beyond ready to match your freak on this, sick and twisted, i luv it >:)

i think this is the night he finally cracks a little... youve been rilling him up for so long at this point, lying to him, ignoring him, purposely making him jealous, hes had enough of this little game. especially when he notices you didnt even bother with panties under your skirt...

so there you two are, in his bedroom once again. his cock is right there, right in front of your face, you can basically smell his musk from where you're sitting. whining at him when he's telling you to beg for big brother’s cock. its so dirty, you really should be disgusted by this, but hes so intoxicating like this. something is different in his eyes from last time you two where sitting like this. theres a desperation in his eyes, like hes begging you to push him into the deep end.

suddenly he's telling you that if you beg real pretty for it, he might let you touch him... oh boy... why did he say that, he'll regret saying that in the morning. but for now he's too occupied with the dirty, depraved prayers slipping from your lips. if patrick could hear them now he would be sick to his stomach, honestly what's wrong with you both??? making his sweet little sister call art her big brother and beg him, on her knees, to let her touch him?? but neither of you are thinking about that at all.

i think, after reveling in your praises, he lets you move closer. tells you to take care of his balls while he jerks himself off :(((( he still wont let you touch him with your hands tho. but maybe he lets you come off the floor, instead he sits against the headboard and lets you lay between his thighs, making such a mess on his sheets. even while lost in pleasure and depravity, art keeps insisting that this doesnt mean that he'll ever fuck you. this is for him, not for you. he doesnt believe you when you tell him youd never tell anyone, youre too much of a slut to keep it to yourself. maybe he'd even rest his pretty cock on your face while youre sucking his balls :(((( makes you beg him to slap your face with it :((( so mean of him!!!

-🐞

GODDDD thank you for matching my freak <3

“Say it and I might let you touch me. If you beg pretty enough— if you’re a good little sister.”

And you know how bad it is when the words slip past your lips for the first time. Know it’s fucked up to fantasize about. But you’re so wet it’s dripping down your thigh where you sit between his legs. Patrick is so far from your mind, reality is a hazy blur around whatever the fuck exists outside of Art’s dorm room.

Because you he was like a brother earlier, just to make him mad, and now he’s making you eat your words. It’s the worst thing he’s ever asked you to do, just the sheer taboo of it all. It’s all fake, you remind yourself, and you want him so bad you’d do anything.

“I want my big brother’s cock.” It makes you shiver, makes your cunt clench around nothing, needy, desperate. You whine, grind against your heel. “Need it so bad. I’m so wet, Art, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

He laughs, revealing his teeth as he smiles wide. But there’s nothing warm or sweet about it. Just cold, cruel pleasure. “Yeah? You want big brother to fuck you so bad, huh? You stuff that pussy full of your fingers wanting it.”

You nod, and fuck, he’s so close you feel dizzy with want. Just want to open your mouth, take him into your warm, wet mouth, get him nice and wet.

“Say it again.”

You whine. “I want you so bad. Need big brother’s cock inside of me— wherever you want, Art. Just want to make you feel good. I want to be a good little sister.”

Jesus fucking Christ. Just hearing you say it makes him dizzy. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is. He readjusts, sits against his headboard and you whine when he moves away from you.

“C’mere, lay down between my thighs, but no touching.” So you do— obeying easily. Your hands are pinned beneath your stomach, you look up at him with wide eyes, just begging for direction.

He starts jerking off again, so close that you can hear every slick pass of his hand. And you feel so left out, almost want to cry with need.

“Be a good little sister, suck on my balls while I make myself cum.”

He might as well have offered you the whole fucking world on a platter. You don’t give him time to change his mind before your mouth is on him, laving the soft skin of his sack with slow laps of your tongue.

You moan, loud and debauched, because it’s everything you’ve been wanting so bad. It’s the taste of him, salty and heady on your tongue. And the feel of him pulsing in your mouth, twitching and needing release. You grind into the bed, finding a tiny amount of friction in the balled up duvet beneath you.

He groans when you suck one of his balls into your mouth, when he feels your moan vibrate against him, nearly cums on the spot. This is supposed to be fucking degrading, but he can see you grinding your bare, sticky cunt onto his blankets. Your mouth is so hot, so wet— your lashes rest against your cheeks, you look so fucking content between his thighs with his balls in your mouth.

He wonders if there’s anything he could do at all to curb your incessant lust for him. Slapping you hadn’t worked, incidental as it was. Ignoring you only drove you to whore yourself out to other boys. He doubted there was anything on the planet that you wouldn’t do, any way you wouldn’t debase yourself for him.

Jesus Christ. He should tell Patrick. He should come clean, explain how fucking bad things had gotten. It would’ve been better if he’d just fucked you once to begin with, now if he tells Patrick he has to reckon with… this.

“Can’t believe you’re fucking getting off on this,” he mutters, even as he strokes his cock to the sight of you, humping his bed and sucking his balls into your pretty wet mouth. “This is supposed to be for me, not for you. Doesn’t fucking change anything either. I’m not fucking you, not ever.”

He holds his cock over your face, presses it against your nose and forehead. You whine, nuzzle against it like you’re a fucking puppy. It makes his cock pulse, the sheer neediness.

He hears your soft pants, the debauched moans as you grind into the bed. Keeps jerking himself off against your face, bucking his hips, lets his cock glide against your soft skin.

“Beg for your big brother’s cum, honey.” You sob pathetically, hump the bed harder, faster, desperate in your need for release. He slaps his cock against your cheek, makes you whine. “Beg for it.”

“Please, Art,” you whine. “Need it. Need it need it need it.” You mouth at his balls, your moans all choked and strangled as you get closer. It’s so pathetic, so fucking hot he can’t help himself. He cums, making a mess of your hair, of your face.

The sound he makes, the feel of his balls drawing up, pulsing on your tongue, it’s enough to drive you crazy. You cum hard, tears slipping down your cheeks as you pathetically grind against his duvet. You keep lapping at his balls, let his dick get soft, rest flaccid against your face.

He pushes you off after a while, mutters something under his breath about how gross this all is. How fucking desperate and depraved you were.

It pisses you off. You’re the one with his cum drying on your face, in your hair. It’s not like you were the one who was getting off on being called big brother. I mean, you were getting off on calling him that, certainly. But you didn’t bring it up. That was him. He was just as fucking bad as you were.

So you steal his shower, don’t fucking talk to him as you grab your shit. He, chewing on his cuticles as you shove past him, heading for the door.

“Where are you going? It’s, like, two in the morning?”

You laugh. So now he wants to play at being the protective friend? “Fuck you, Art. I’m sleeping in my own room.”

He lets you go, tries to ignore the pang of longing. Whatever. Maybe you finally learned something.

[hoseoksluna]

SMOKE, iii. | myg

pairing: idol!yoongi x smoke!oc (ft. jungkook, bespectacled girl)

genre: angst

word count: 10.3k

summary: everything that has begun hurts. 

pinterest board: smoke / taglist: join

warnings: heavy yoongi angst, a rundown of the smut from the previous chapter (oral sex, humping, making out), importance of consent, hearing voices, anxiety, borderline thoughts of not wanting to be here in this world, covid and the pandemic, anger, hyyh yoonkook, yoonkook smoke together.

note: i'm sorry for this chapter. :( i will make it better, i promise. as much as it was pain to write the rundown, i still think it's beautiful and so vital to this story. i hope my babies enjoy it. luv yah. <3

side note: i recommend reading smoke 2 before this chapter, so you don’t forget about anything! i didn’t use much detain in the rundown, the chapter would’ve had 20k words if i did. 😔✋🏻

I don’t believe in God, but I prayed to something bigger than me when our chauffeur drove us through the rain.

I’ve known the man for years and I would drift through my precious slumber whenever he would get behind the wheel and not awaken. And as much as I trusted him, I didn’t trust the damned, despicable rainfall that seems to be infested in my life like liquid anthropoids. 

And as much as he meandered through the streets with utmost care and slowness, my muscles tensed and wouldn’t let up, my internal pleading words to someone up above coiled, choked out and strained. What’s worse, I feared she, the kitty girl, would stray away into her pain in all that quietness and melancholy that the condition of the weather emitted, and her bodily need to vomit would bash against the shattered pieces of my heart until only dusky powder remained. 

I folded her into my pathetic prayer. 

Seeing her so lost, unknowing of where she is and what is happening, seeing her eyes so absorbed in the nightmare she was facing, so awfully unfocused, then looking at me with such veneration once I cupped some cold water and let it drip down her noble spine—my heart failed and tore apart in two, her plea not to tell Jungkook severing it into smithereens. 

I would do anything for her, anything she’d ask. 

And I did. 

The car stopped at her apartment building, and it wasn’t until then that my muscles dissolved into a state of calmness that allowed me to breathe evenly. 

We didn’t crash. 

No vehicle appeared in front of ours. 

No muscle tear. 

My consciousness ceased being one of such smothering vigilance, melting into inquisitiveness about her energy and how she was feeling, into a territory that is ruled by her bergamot and mandarin perfume, by her beauty and dangerous femininity laced with girlish shyness that twists my stomach into knots. Thankfully, the downpour crept out of my solid and unyielding atmosphere and I felt the clouds part. 

The moonlight sliced through me when she asked me to come up. 

I didn’t hesitate. 

Tranquility surged through me, passing into me by those moonbeams. 

I glanced up at the moon when I held her purse up in the air for her, at a comfortable level for her arms as she rummaged through it. Once I heard the clanging of her keys, I looked down—meeting the same face that those clouds above revealed. Little moon kitty girl. 

But she wouldn’t connect her eyes to mine and my own mistake from earlier poked at my heart, her fear of me my everlasting demise. 

I was willing to do anything in effort to erase it from her body, never to be found again. Smooth out what I’d molded in her, reconstruct it into something new, mild and mellow. 

She held the door open for me and I perceived she had the power to pump blood into that wretched flesh of mine and deflate it all the same. It sparked something within me that I didn’t know how to identify. Something way beyond respect, enfolded with care, despite the fact I just met her. 

Fate has been too, too merciful to me—and I wasn’t sure if I should trust it. Sun-mi wouldn’t speak to me, still, even when I would call out to her.

Only radio silence echoed back to me. 

What was difficult to wrap my head around was the fact that I wasn’t reluctant to trust the kitty girl. It came to me with ease, filled up all parts of me that there simply wasn’t any space for any skepticism, nor for any ambivalence. If there was anything I was sure of, it was her. 

Me misjudging her in the beginning may have brought it about, but I firmly believe that it has now enclosed it with a protective layer of stability. One I hold dear to my heart and find myself headstrong about nurturing, protecting it further. 

She’s good. 

She’s the same as me. 

And she was wearing my sneakers.

It was all I could fixate upon as she led me through another door, out of which a high set of stairs emerged and by which she stopped. They suited her so well, downright belonged to her that I thought about letting her keep them. My heart swelled, making it difficult for me to breathe, and I went in first because I knew if I had the full package of her round femininity, her spine and the sneakers in front of my eyes, I would’ve collapsed and broken my neck. 

And I didn’t want to regard her like that. Especially not when I’d attached myself to Sun-mi. 

Even when she was lifeless, voiceless, seemingly not with me at all. 

And yet, whatever it was in me that asked for the kitty girl, didn’t leave me be until I checked, multiple times, if she was with me. If her heels weren’t slipping out of my shoes, or if the laces weren’t unraveling. If she wasn’t drifting away from me. 

She wasn’t. 

She was conscious, attentive to me and flushed under her black dress. 

My hands itched, remembering the feel of her icy cold skin warming up to me as she came to her senses. The memory engraved itself into the lines of my palm and I saw it, the film of it, all over again, when I looked down at my hand, full of pins and needles. 

It went away when I propped it on the wall while taking my shoes off, watching her small feet emerge out of the spaciousness of the sneakers. She blushed and wouldn’t reciprocate my gaze, her flush shooting to the apples of her cheek that only grew upwards to her temples like the prettiest of wild roses. Without a word, I followed her further into her apartment and I thought about how I’d follow her anywhere she went. 

Her living room was a place of utmost, ivory rest—as if she was inspired by the heaven she must be often visiting in her dreams. White walls, white couch, pristine lilies and undying vines of greenery lining each corner alongside a drapery of twinkling bulbs of lights. When she switched them on, I found myself in the middle of her personal heaven, considered it haven and I didn’t wish to leave. 

I didn’t know why she invited me upstairs and the only reason that came to my mind was one I wasn’t allowing to consume my weakened heart. 

I was willing to stay, even if she possibly needed a person to be present with her. Even if she needed to go non-verbal in the other room while I would bask in the purity of her eternal personality sunk in every detail of her apartment. I yearned to sit on her couch and take it in. Take in the perfume of her lilies, the soft and mellow mellowness of the lights that were so reminiscent of the core of those flowers. Her magazines and her books. Her cooking utensils and the reality show programs that must be burned into her TV. 

I yearned to sit and breathe her in. 

And I did when she poured me a glass of cold water and we drank it, wordlessly. She went to cleanse herself off the nightmare that had clung to her so vividly and deftly and I sat down in the middle of her plushy couch, her squishy pillows supporting my back. I ran my fingers through the different fabrics of those small cushions of hers, her blanket. Felt as though I was touching her, knowing she would repose her body using those objects of softness and something of great importance and emotional value, that I wasn’t really ready for, clove to my bones. 

I longed to be her object of softness, snoozing and idleness. I pitied her for going through something so pernicious, especially in front of Hobi. Especially in front of such a stranger like me. 

I didn’t understand how those tender feelings towards her infiltrated my lungs when I didn’t breathe enough of her air. I wasn’t in the right state of mind to feel towards a girl, not when I still had my tendencies to attach myself to my Sun-mi. I had tried to date after her, but I never developed feelings for the other person, not even a hint of them. I was indifferent to their personal stories as they were to mine, which made me realize in the long run that people in the current dating scene do not search for a long-term connection. The only connection they seek is the physical one and I regretted, for quite some time, for moving on the traditional way. Sun-mi was a treasure of gold and I was a fool for touching girls with gold-powdered hands. 

They condemned it and I was pushed towards a death of loneliness. 

Sitting here, listening to the murmur of her shower, abusing her special beige blanket with my gold-stained fingers, I wondered about her view on modern relationships. Was she the casual type and was I doomed? Or was she a love-fool like me? 

A boom reverberated out far in the corridor, tugging me away from the false sanctuary of my high hopes. The kitty girl had flung open the door to her bathroom, but she didn’t walk out. My stomach zapped with the temptation of the reason that still crouched somewhere, tentatively, in my brain, one that I’m holding back with all my strength. But then the notion that she might have been feeling faint and needing my help crawled all over my scalp with icy legs and before I knew it, my feet paddled down that corridor. Somehow, they had the knowledge of where to go without a sliver of doubt. 

Like all my thoughts, the notion had been false. 

She was perfect and erotic in her night slip, cleansing her face off the last detail of her nightmare. My heart forgot all of its regulations when I regarded the end of her ebony dress, grazing just right the curves of her bum. My mouth parted and vehemently dried, another notion slipping in that only she could be the source of water that my throat miserably needed. 

And then she turned around, a glowing torch of all my desires, dressed in silk and lace that hardened me so painfully my knees nearly wobbled. The sheer fabric pressed against her feminine peaks, baring them to me, my freed heart whispering to me that she was fully naked underneath her nightwear for me—and that she wanted it that way, wanted my eyes to see it. 

My hands acted out of habit—unzipping my jacket to cover her. My hands that didn’t connect to my heart, nor my mind. My hands that seemed to have remembered my high hopes. The only smart part about me. 

But she disagreed with them, and her own threw my garment down to the damp floor. She might as well have stomped on it to crush them further because wherever she was placing me right now, she was ensnaring me in her danger. In her femininity, in her eroticism. But she didn’t realize that she was tormenting me, opening my high hopes wide, exposing them and scratching them raw. 

And by doing that, she was making me want to torment her with pleasure so great that she would submit to my traditional ways. To my golden powder that would eventually broaden the slits of her cat-like eyes. 

Jungkook’s voice rang through me, however. At the cusp of my decision to manipulate her right back by giving her precisely what she was pining for. 

He had warned me, with maximum carefulness that she didn’t hear, to not take advantage of her. Jealousy washed over me like a stream of iciness—that he knew something I didn’t, as if he truly knew what was going on in her head while I didn’t, and that he had claims on her and a certain possessiveness over her that I had no business being bothered by. But I could only nod as he poured that cyanide into my ear, held back as I was by outside forces. And it held me back now, forcing my hands behind my back, forcing me to rethink my decision. 

She grasped that force, though. Pressed herself against me. And I could feel the ropes of that translucent obstacle ripping apart in her hands as they wrapped around mine, unfurling them, inviting my decision to come forth all over again. The hardened peaks of her breasts provoked the fight occurring in me and I sensed myself losing, losing Jungkook’s warning in my body, losing his respect—and losing his love. 

The latter is what drove me to tell her the truth—tell her that Jungkook said no, divulging to her the picture of the mountain of respect I bore in my lungs for him, despite the fact I kept holding her delicate hands. And she responded with such a piquant wit that it quaked through that mountain, debris falling off, tumbling to my feet. 

Since when is Jungkook the boss of me?

The fight loosened with her words, but it brought about the awareness that while Jungkook wasn’t the boss of her, he had been—for the longest time—the boss of me. It dawned upon me, along with the notion that it didn’t have to be this way, so intensely that my grip flexed around her hands. And the feeling of ultimate liberation, scented by her raspberry body wash, descended upon me, hushing to me, ever so softly, that because she’s become a new character in this following chapter, I didn’t have to cling to Jungkook any longer. 

And I recognized that voice. 

It was my Sun-mi speaking to me, guiding me. 

And I tried, with all my might, to conceal the evidence of the relief and the dull elation surging through me due to the fuzzy impression she had given me—a headstart to my decision. But then she reminded me of the possessiveness Jungkook had over the kitty girl and she encouraged me to ask her about it. 

And I did. 

Sun-mi took my thumbs and brushed them over the girl’s nails, showing me how before letting me take over. And the way she reacted to the feeble touch, it made me see her in a slightly different light. 

She was dangerous and erotic, yes. But deep within, in the dust-suffused corners of her being, there dwelled an abandoned kitten. Starved—starved of touch, of love and care. With a hollow belly and a bony face. And it stared right back at me after it brushed its soot-stained features against my neck, asking for more with eyes that were no longer seductive, but sorrowful. 

She was a kitten I ached, ached to take care of. Adopt and bathe and feed. Make pretty and fill up with life, joy and colors of the rainbow of emotions she could meet and get to know with me. 

And Sun-mi validated these thoughts of mine, expanding that warm feeling in my gut until it reached my heart. 

My breath shivered. 

And Kitty, Kitty expanded her wit, hauling my decision forth—to the edge of reality, provoking me further, but I saw right through it. She wanted my care for a different reason, using the same manipulation technique, and Sun-mi nodded in me. 

Would I ask you to come upstairs if I were?

Sun-mi warned me a second before Kitty untangled her hand from my grip and went to feel up my groin. I caught it just in time, putting it back to my side, and her dolorous regret pierced through me; pierced through Sun-mi’s voice, shutting the half of her sentence that advised me to be cautious. I was struck by the realness of her contrition, maybe because it seemed like a mirror of mine—maybe because it shredded the intoxication of her eroticism and the kitten in her revealed herself, fully, to me. 

That naked kitten, belonging to me. 

And just like that, I was willing to give her what her body asked of me. If I was supposed to get to that kitten through the murky waters of her desire, then I was willing to get myself wet. Because if I was to reject her, she’d close up that corner of her and I would lose her. 

The real her. 

I unattached myself from Sun-mi. 

I reopened what I had closed. I echoed the words that her body provided me. 

Are you needy?

And it wasn’t just the outside shell of her that lit up. The kitten glimmered in the shadows, turning onto her back and exposing her belly to me. That was enough for me—to know that the inner her was listening to me—and so I repeated the question in her dumbstruck silence, focusing on the her that needed me, though differently, at that moment, calling her by her name. I allowed myself to be influenced by her allure, by her former manipulation—dipping my hands in her waters. And her continuous wit affected me, properly, for the first time. 

What would you do if I said I was? 

My brows twitched and so did my cock, her words letting in a whirlwind of ideas of what I would do to her. But when I enabled my body to act out however it wished, my legs wading in her desire, only one remained. 

I set my heart upon punishing her for what she did to herself. For the way she sabotaged herself by using the fading beauty of lust and neglected the real her, the poor kitten, in the process. For submitting to the society’s detestable ways, when she was more than deserving of love and respect. 

I craved to punish her for meandering through this world like I did, with multiple earth-shattering orgasms that would satisfy her enough to be herself, unabashedly. 

Even if it made me a hypocrite. 

I’d make you come so hard you wouldn’t have to touch yourself for days, I whispered to her, folding myself into the snugness that was created between us earlier in the venue, feeling her body tremble in my hands. And before I turned my rationality off all the way and submerged myself, fully, in her waters, I echoed to her the words that rushed through me. Is that what you want?

Did she want me to discipline her enough that she would come back to herself? 

Did she want me to help her? 

But she didn’t answer me. She didn’t give me her words. Only a carnal, maddened noise of agreement spilled out of her and bound me deeper to her. I willed someone up above, silently, to make her see through my words. I persisted, vocally, encouraging her to consent to me, but the more the seconds of our time drifted on, the more I began to fall under her spell. And the more she studied the shape of my lips in a way that no one had ever done in my life, not even Sun-mi, the more my body submitted to her. 

We collided in a mutual kiss. 

And she tasted like the unnamed thing I sought in all the vapid girls I had touched after Sun-mi. Like the fruits of curiosity; like the sap of humanness. I delved into her—felt her refreshing my throat, my stomach. And her influence sank one more layer below, rejuvenating my bones. 

It wasn’t merely a kiss. It was a final connection, and I wanted her. 

I wanted her, crucially. 

The kitten clawed at the walls of her being and I felt her, shushed her inertly—told her to stay patient for me because I needed to continue with my decision, with my plan. Needed to get to her. 

Needed the same things that the outer shell of her did—without having anyone to give it to me. 

Except her. 

But when I broke the kiss and gazed into her eyes, I detected a streak of sunlight protruding through the thick dust. Lily-white and impeccable, her seduction tearing at the seams. And when she began to ride my thigh, the pleasure she received from me ripped it apart, wholly. She plummeted, an inch below, and I swam in gladness, parting her waters with my arms. 

I still needed her consent, though, so I persevered. 

She wouldn’t listen to me, as wet as she was, and I yearned to take her chin and make her listen to me, but I respected her well enough to not do that. And I lost the timeline of my impending need of her consent to help her when her hair sailed upon the surface of her lustful waters. She rubbed her pussy so well against my thigh. I could hear the squelching noises of her flesh riding her dripping slick and I sailed with her. 

I lost my mind when she came against me, the frenzy bursting in all parts of me, and I no longer saw the real her and the cracked outer shell of her. 

I merely saw her. 

And she was beautiful. 

She wasn’t erotic, seductive, nor lustful. She didn’t personify a girlish sinfulness. She exuded a pristine beam of pinkish innocence, laced with a love so great that it thrummed within my chest. My morals, my decisions, my ways and thoughts blurred and blended into my desire to have her. 

Just her. 

Her vulgarities and praises for me spilled out of her like her slick and it hydrated me, gave me a long, brisk sip of life and I was dumbstruck, mirroring her. She was unbound in her release and I wished I could cup that euphoric freedom and pour it down her throat in social events when she would need it the most, a little sugary drink of courage that would untie her from anxiety. Her beauty bloomed in front of my eyes and I couldn’t avert my gaze away from her. 

It was physically impossible within the bond that pulled me closer and closer towards her. 

And when she came back to me, dazed from the high of her vital orgasm, I couldn’t help but to be inspired by that stream of liberation. Just like she praised me, I praised her. It was important to me that she knew of what happened to her when she burst in her pretty release. 

It aroused me deeper, the words I uttered her way. And the way she blushed, the way she smiled—I knew right then and there that she threw a rope around me, ensnaring me to her for all eternity. 

And I was delighted. 

That’s the most I’ve heard from you all night. You’re alive when you come. Raw and articulate. No shyness to you.

I caressed her extended claws.

And I want them dug deep in me. 

Despite my lost mind, I kept going, kept persisting, wondering at the words that dashed out of my mouth, the one that knew how to kiss her and coax out of her those sweetened, delicate noises of hers—and her following words. 

Neck. Nipple. Thigh. Cunt. 

I became aware, wholly, of the suppleness and softness of her body. Of the authenticity and authority that it held as I kissed and licked all of those tender, sensitive parts of her that she asked me to get to know my tongue. 

And I was doing just that. 

Learning the depth of her intellect as I closed my mouth over her clit, as I drank from her sopping heat that gave me the final notion of the night that I would never thirst again. Not if I had her legs over my shoulders. Not if I had her bent in half. 

Not if I had her asking for me, provoking me. 

I enjoyed it too much. Thought I’d never enjoyed something like that before. Her taste, the heady scent of her arousal that I desired to have under my nose at all times, her wetness dripping off my chin and landing just right on her bare, squished tummy. Her neediness, her courage and her bravery. I enjoyed it all so much that I forgot all about myself and my own needs, finding her lust more stimulating and gratifying than the thought of me getting anything in return. 

But all too soon, while I was holding her in such a vulnerable position, the spell withered. In a snap of one’s fingers. 

Mine. 

The final question, the only smart one within the heated realm of our frenzy, trickled down my chin along with her wetness and I gravitated back down to my lost rationality, to the disconsolate existence in this wretched world. Kitty rolled her eyes and I floated, like a pallid cloud, in and out of our lust. One foot there, the other in reality. 

You really want this?

She bounced for me, tugging on the rope she had wrapped around me. And I toppled, harder than I anticipated, when she murmured that she wanted me inside of her. I toppled forward into our aphrodisiac haven, but my foot stayed submerged in the mud of reason. 

You’re not getting it tonight. 

But the little minx liked that I had said that. Liked that I was such a fastidious giver—a man in charge of her that knew better. And I liked that she did. I liked the way she touched me. Her fingers heartened me. And when she poked her toe in my cheek, I blazed in such joy and passion that I gave in. 

I gave in, entirely, to her. 

I kissed her like I never kissed Sun-mi. Grabbed her by the back of her neck and smashed my mouth into hers, sucking on her lips so hard that my cock twitched and she moaned in response. Moaned so vivaciously that I sensed it taking roots in each corner of my body and soul. 

Kitty dragged me out of reason, sprawling me over her. I ground my hips against her pussy, meeting her little thrusts, and I found something beyond the principle of haven in that mutual collision. Something safer, something more solid. And despite the fact I had unattached myself from Sun-mi, she, somehow, thundered in me. Her jealousy contaminated me. I felt icy fingers hooking into the back of my shirt and yanking me away, sinking into my flesh. And right then and there, I almost yelped in pain. 

Sun-mi’s voice plagued me in antipathy.

Get away from her. 

Get away. Get away. Get away. 

Go now. 

She screeched those revolting words in me until her shrieking voice melted into a ringing that rid me of my hearing sense. But as ensnared as I was, I perceived that wasn’t my Sun-mi. That wasn’t her voice, for it wasn’t effulgent with her gentleness. It was something greatly sinister that had crawled upon me in my vulnerability, disguising itself as my precious girlfriend. Though as aware as I was of its trick, it wouldn’t let go. On the contrary, it rose in volume and intensity until it forced me to let out the rottenest words I could’ve ever given her. 

I can’t. 

But because of the bond between us, I was able to give her a tender kiss to make it better. And when she took it, she gave me the strength to fight. 

And so I did. 

I settled between her legs, but the worst thing that could’ve happened did come up for air between us. 

She saw through me. She was a witness to the demon’s psychological terror inflicted upon me and she respected it enough that she began to back away. 

I couldn’t let her. I couldn’t let the demon win. 

So I pushed her hands away that had gripped the silky fabric of her night dress and covered her from me, and I flipped the hem so hard I nearly ripped it. I couldn’t afford to have her close up on me—to not have her like this and the awareness of how important she had become for me in the little time we had together descended in the pit of my stomach. The thought of never having her close like this shook through my organs and I simply could not let that happen. 

I begged her. 

I begged her to let me forget about the enormous obstacle that hid within me and wished to draggle me through mud and shit just so I wouldn’t fall deeper into her. 

And when she allowed me, when she pinned her legs back the way I wanted them, and gave over that intimate part of her that I had discovered I needed in order to survive, I discerned that her willingness, her consent and her kindness was something that attenuated the voice of the demon in me. 

I submitted. 

And in total submission to her, I devoured her and finger-fucked her until she, seemingly, washed me clean of all my darkness, sprinkling me with her wetness. I would’ve continued had she not reached the fairyland of overstimulation. And all my false pretenses were revealed to me when she sat up and palmed my cock. 

I wasn’t washed clean. I wasn’t well. And I wasn’t strong enough to fight. 

My fear quaked in my bones while she was undoing the strings of my sweatpants and it was me who felt like vomiting at the thought of being on the receiving end. 

I grasped her hands, my vision clouded with my tears, and I could only shake my head ‘no’. I had pleaded with her to give me her words, yet I myself wasn’t able to do the same.

I didn’t understand what was happening to me. 

I crumbled and shrunk. Was smaller than the kitten inside her that meowed to me. Didn’t know whether to leave or to stay over, only that if I were to remain in the closeness of our lessening frenzy, something ugly would occur. I found myself in a state of mind where I needed to be taken care of, but letting her do it strengthened my fear. I needed Jungkook to come, but that meant he would get the wind of the fact that I betrayed him. 

I was paralyzed on the spot, with my cock hard and aching, and Kitty studied me as if she could read each and every horrendous line of the decadent poetry of my mental state. And then she tied back the strings of my sweatpants, careful not to touch my private parts, and folded her hands on her glistening thighs. 

“Can I make you something to eat?” she asked, her eyes as shiny as the traces of her arousal, round and softened, the slits wide and innocuous. So different from the way they looked when I first regarded them. 

The large, hot tear that plopped onto my cheek answered her for me. As if she called it out, my stomach grumbled. 

She rose on her bare, wobbly feet and pulled my head onto her lace-adorned bosom. Brushed a hand down my hair at a snail’s place like she internally knew that it wasn’t possible for me to linger in her tenderness, that once she reached the nape of my neck that I would withdraw. And she gave me a radiant smile once I did—as if I wasn’t vile, worthless and loathsome. 

Reassured me that it was okay like I deserved it. Like I deserved her. 

And while she made me ramen and boiled two eggs for me, the demon in me pressured me to leave without a word. Almost pushed my muscles into action, my legs to take a step back, but I resisted. I resisted with the little strength I had by crossing the distance, no longer watching her from the dark corner of her kitchen. I stood behind her, not holding her, not caressing her—because I couldn’t. I couldn’t draw closer. I couldn’t touch her in a non-sexual sphere because I feared what would have happened to my mind if I did. 

In spite of that, I said the words that she deserved to hear. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not being able to give you what you want.” 

She turned her head and gazed up into my eyes. It was so intimate that I couldn’t understand how we ended up here, how we ended up acting like this when we knew each other for merely hours. I couldn’t understand why it felt the way it did when she was merely looking at me and I longed to scratch off the outer layer of our bond that it gained from our lust, that protected it so well that even I couldn’t erase it. 

“You don’t have to apologize for anything.” 

I couldn’t say anything to that. My hands agreed with her, but my abused heart didn’t. I could only sit down at her table and eat the food she made me, thinking about how everything our bodies did was natural, yet those actions left an unnatural aftertaste within that the food couldn’t flavor differently. I existed in oxymorons with her, ones that I took to bed with her. 

And I held them instead of her. 

I awake with a jerk. 

With the brass, sharp and strange feeling that I did something wrong, that I made a mistake so enormous and calamitous that it will take a lifetime to pay its mending debt. With a long wave of Kitty’s turquoise strand loosely wrapped around my hand resting between the snugness of her pillow and mine. With her spine protruding towards me while she’s curled on her side. With a surplus of the dream I have emerged from as it drifts with me towards the bright light of consciousness, where I’d rather not be right now. 

And the memory of it opens against my eyelids when I close them. Her straddling me, her bouncing on my cock as her eyes flutter in the middle of her perfervid, red-hot orgasm that might as well have been mine. I sense her weight on me as if she wasn’t softly snoring beside me, but sitting on me with my length sheathed inside her to the hilt, shuddering and praising me, her breasts following the movement of her hips and—

I sit up and fist my hair, trying to breathe out evenly, but I fail. The damned air comes out in pathetic staccatos that permeate me with a zealous anger. And when I rip the covers off of me, I see that I was right. 

Her orgasm was mine. 

A large wet spot stains my boxers, the white fabric translucent due to the quantity of cum that oozed out of me in my sleep. It’s not sticky, nor is it dry, which means the dream caught up to me right before I woke up and came like a fucking teenager that has just discovered women. 

What makes this even worse is that I’m rock hard and so needy that I’m willing to wake her up and beg for her. Beg for her kindness. Beg for her softness. 

But I can’t. 

Anger and lust might lace well, but I can’t do that to her. I can’t use her when I know I have to keep my distance now and not allow us to step over the threshold of our desires. I should’ve listened to Jungkook and not let her shatter that mountain of respect for him, not let her set me free from my fixation on him. I should’ve stayed in the car and kept my promise to him that I would come back. 

I stand up to my feet and I detect the silky ghost of her dyed strand on my palm, the only singular softness I might ever feel for the rest of my life. And I wish it would end now, so I wouldn’t have to face her and the possible heartbreak I would clothe her in—and so I wouldn’t have to face Jungkook and clothe myself in regret and shame. 

I go and search for my Sun-mi as I walk over to the living room to put on my sweatpants from last night, but I stumble upon a dead end. The realization that I had been tricked by my demons for all these long years swathes me in iciness so cold that I shiver and my vision blurs. The realization that I’m all alone are the ropes that stifle my lungs and they swell against it, the flesh overspilling. I call out to her from within, a feeble high hope, and radio silence greets me upon this fine morning. 

The only honeyed good morning I’ll ever receive. 

I sniffle, willing the tears to fuck off because I’m exhausted of feeling so much, of being so vulnerable in this world that seems so be so set on destroying me. My girlfriend is dead. She’s not with me, nor will she ever be. She hasn’t been sending me guidance and fuzzy feelings. She’s buried six deep under and I dispersed the soil over her with the same hand I used to make another girl come, the same hand that still feels her hair like a knife I seem to be clutching, despite the excruciation I give myself, despite the blood that pours out and splatters on her stark white carpet. 

I sit on her couch and check the notifications on my phone. I have one text message from Jungkook and two missed calls from him. It’s so like him. Had it been any other member, the bar would’ve been spammed so much that I myself would have to get out of bed and silence it. 

I click on the message and read it, carefully. 

We need to talk in the morning. Coffeestand at 11 am

Fuck this shit. 

I check the time. It’s 10:20 am. I haven’t slept this long since the pandemic. Which reminds me that I haven’t been to that small coffee shop with him since before this fuckery ingrained itself in the face of this doomed world. Jungkook knows what I’ve done, but I don’t allow myself to feel. 

No regret. No shame. 

Nothing. 

I place my head in my hands and do some breathing exercises, anxiety invading my boundary and my decision to be numb. I fight, even though I’m so weary of it, and my mind spins. There’s not enough air in this room and when I go to look around to see if her AC is on, I find her standing by the doorframe of her bedroom. 

Puzzlement twists her puffy, morning features. The light glimmers in her eyes so glaringly that there’s simply no need for the sunlight right behind me that I now sense cradling my back. It has awoken hand in hand with her and I have to stop myself. 

No feeling. Numbness, only. 

I feel nothing towards her and I want nothing to do with her. 

Last night was a mistake. She was horny and I was lonely, vulnerable. There’s no bond between us. She’s merely Jungkook’s pretty friend. And I don’t see the starved, neglected kitten out in the open of her being, her former seductiveness a mat beneath her that she’s resting on, purring. She’s not lifting her small, bony head at my attention as I peer into her eyes and watch her tense features melt and relax under our spellbinding eye contact. 

And her words don’t affect me when she asks me if I’m okay. 

I don’t disintegrate when she walks towards me, her bare, sleep-kissed breasts bouncing underneath her pellucid, lacy night dress, ruining me, reminding all over again of the wet dream I had, of the way she pinched them right before I stirred awake. 

I stop her halfway with roughness that I regret as soon as it digorges out of my mouth and I wish, with all of my own godforsaken being, to take it back. 

“Can you, please, put something fucking on?” 

I palm my forehead, tearing my gaze away from her and the way her face falls, and when I run my hand down my eyes, I encounter the traces of my weakness still wet and very much visible to the naked eye on my cheeks. I’m hot all over, regretful, shameful and hateful of what I’ve become because I believe that, deep down, I’m not my anger. 

I may believe it faintly, but that doesn’t mean I don’t believe it at all. 

I’m not my anger and I don’t treat people like this. I exude respect, self-control and kindness. 

This is not me. 

And yet I still act like this. I hurt and I’ve hurt the beautiful girl in front of me that I can no longer face. I grab my things and I walk over to her corridor, sliding my foot into my shoe while staring down, with even blurrier vision than before, the red Jordans I let her wear last night. 

“I have to go,” I mutter, willing my voice not to betray me, but to be smooth, steady and gentle—unlike me. Jungkook’s image flashes in my brain and how he must be already waiting for me in the coffee shop, as punctual as he is. And I don’t hurt just his friend further, I sink the knife I still clutch inside my heart so deep that I lose my life in front of her. “Do you have a spare mask?” 

She untangles one of her arms crossed over her breasts and rummages in a little, white, polyester box perched on her kitchen bar. Wraps that forearm tighter around her when she hands me a new, ivory mask without looking at me. 

I twist the knife deeper in my heart and I long to take her face in my hand, instead of the mask. Take her and kiss her for her kindness until she moans into my mouth like she did last night. 

But I don’t. 

I thank her for the mask and I leave. 

Jungkook is waiting for me outside the coffee shop with a pink umbrella. A tall Statue of Liberty dressed in black, holding up a torch of my failure. He reminds me so much of her that it might as well have been her, standing in his place. 

I had texted him that I was on my way, even though my doleful heart begged me to dial his number and vomit all of my feelings into his ear. Cleanse my guts of the regret that gorged on it. Despite the fact that’s not something I normally do. Jungkook is the one who does and I’m the one who listens, who fixes, who comforts.

I could never let him know that I’m the one who needs it now. 

It had rained softly when I stopped by my apartment to take a quick shower so I wouldn’t have faced him with cum stains on my sweatpants. Gooseflesh marred my skin when I walked through it with my head dipped low, the cloud my very contrition that poured down on me. I was shivering as the liquid anthropoids crawled upon my bare arms because I left my jacket on her bathroom floor. None of us went to wash up before bed. 

They seemed to have fucked off to another city, but once I went by foot to the coffee shop, they descended again. Taunted me. Obscured my tears from Jungkook who was as kind as her, running up to me once he saw me to shield me from the rain. 

No wonder they’re friends. 

I don’t greet him, nor do I listen to him tell me off for not bringing an umbrella. I focus on burying my feelings the way I buried my girlfriend, six feet deep, and the final sifting of the soil is the cigarette I wordlessly pull out of my pack. Jungkook blinks at me. 

Then, holds out a hand. 

No wonder he’s my brother. 

I give him one and light it up with my white lighter, studying the way his brown pools zero in on tip flaming up in a soft orange tint. And when those gentle eyes shift to mine, I feel like weeping all over again. 

He puffs the smoke out away from my face. I follow him, hiding my tears by flicking my gaze in another direction, sucking on the cigarette as I bring it to life and pocket my lighter. And as the fume blackens my treacherous lungs, I have to rub my eyes in order not to reveal my emotions to him. 

But Jungkook sees through me regardless of my efforts. 

“Start talking,” he encourages, crossing his arm over his chest like Kitty did and my heart pivots on its axis, slicing through my flesh. The smoke curls around us in the pink shadow of the umbrella. “We don’t have much time. We have to be back at the company in an hour. He wants to talk to us.” 

He doesn’t have to mention his name—I know full well who he speaks of. If the said person saw what we were doing, he’d have a stroke and it makes me suck on my cigarette harder. 

“About?” 

Jungkook sighs, takes a drag and puffs the smoke sideways through pursed lips, his eyes lost in the distance somewhere behind my legs. “He never said. Just acts all high and mighty. Demands our time when we need it to rest in order to give our best before the concert tonight. I’m sick of him.” 

I humorlessly chuckle because I don’t think I ever heard him admit something like this. Hobi and I, we have these discussions nearly on a daily basis, but Jungkook never had the guts to admit the unfair, inhumane way we’re treated by the company we keep alive and thriving. Not just for us, but for the other groups under the management.  

I take a little happy drag of the poison, feeling a little more at ease with him. Enough to dig up my feelings and stain his hands, so I wouldn’t feel so alone. 

And I do. 

I prepare it, my nails black and muddy. I dig out the regret over my words, the ache in my heart from the way Kitty’s face fell, the mental agony from the fact she may never want to see me again and that I may never see her—that she won’t come to the concert tonight. 

And in the silence, as I look at my dirtied hands, I get an eyeful of the way I’m holding not just the fragments of the earth, but of wildflowers. Wildflowers of her scent, the heady perfume of her arousal that I can still smell under my nose because I didn’t have the heart to wash that part of my face. It was all I had of her for the time being. Petals of her beauty, her giggles and her moans quiver in my palms and the memory of her poking me with her toe in my cheek resurfaces in my mind. I smile so vivaciously that it hurts, though differently. I don’t regard it as sexual but as something innocently delicate, precious and endearing. And it deepens my regret that I spoke to her that way, that I made her feel ashamed of her breathtaking, picturesque body by lashing out my anger at her. 

It deepens it to the point that I lament it. And my smile falls—just like her face. 

Jungkook watches me. Has been watching me this whole time while I dipped inside myself. And he brings it back up, stubbing out his cigarette with his sneaker on the wet ground. I follow him—ready and not ready at the same time, but I feel vastly in me that I should tell him. And that he won’t ostracize me. 

“Let’s go inside so you can tell me.” 

I merely nod.

Jungkook takes the first step in front of me, keeping me shielded from the rain that begins to thicken. Maybe it grew tender from my memories—maybe it’s not as sinister when it comes to her. Maybe the rain can be mellow when she’s in my life. 

Except that she no longer is. I pushed her away. 

Under the roof of the coffee shop, Jungkook shakes the umbrella off of its sopping wetness and I can’t stand the sight of the rain. I walk inside, squeezing through him, mutter a quiet hello that the person behind the counter doesn’t hear. She’s tapping away her heart on the screen of her phone, her long nails clicking loudly, her round glasses pinched at the ball of her nose that fog up with each of her breaths due to her sagging mask. Tufts of hair spread out in all directions from her messy updo and she doesn’t lift her head at the sound of the bell ringing once Jungkook comes in. Her typing movements gain more speed and verve and I can’t help but to laugh to myself. She must be fighting someone on the other side—and I wish I could fight Kitty, just so I could talk to her. Just so I could still have her in my life. 

“What are you having?” Jungkook asks, a glistening puppy drifting his big pools on the menu suspended above the girl’s curled form. He doesn’t take the humid weather well. Invariably sweats like a dog. A cute puppy dog that never stinks. 

I was too busy being jealous of the girl possibly fighting her boyfriend to notice what she offered to make. I glance up, noticing the words are written in white chalk and some western options are embellished in a pretty cursive that must belong to her, which reminds me that one of our mutual friends worked here before the pandemic. I wonder if he’s still here or if someone else manages the place. There’s no way Beomseok was able to write in this pretty lettering. The man has problems with Hangul and to this day I don’t understand how he graduated with honors. 

Kudos to him. 

I reread the options and find only coffees with so much milk to make you sick for days. The only strong coffee is an Americano, but I need something stronger. 

“Don’t they have anything with whiskey in it?”

Both heads turn simultaneously in my direction and I laugh, dryly. The girl’s thumb hover in the air before she blinks, flings her phone to the surface of the counter and stands up, drawing close to us. 

Jungkook elbows me. “It’s 11 am.” 

“If we have a meeting after this, I need the whole bottle.” 

He laughs through his nose. “Fair enough.” Pivots to the girl, leaning his elbow on the counter and fixes his mask. “One americano for me. Do you, guys, still do flavor shots?” 

The girl taps in his order and only looks at him with her eyes while her chin keeps facing the monitor. “The times have changed but our brand coffees haven’t. What flavor shot would that be?” 

Jungkook nearly springs into the air. I swore I could see his puppy tail wagging. “Banana, please.” 

I scoff. If I were to drink a banana-flavored americano, I would’ve spent my day on the toilet. Jungkook throws me a dirty look before he focuses on the girl again. I shake my head, smiling, lightweight. 

“Okay, so, one banana americano for me and one bland americano for the grumpy guy. I’ll be paying for both. Can we sit here or is this to go only?” 

She proceeds to tell him that the mandate is still rubbing its shit all over these walls, but since we’re the only ones here, we can sit with our masks down. Jungkook thanks her and leaves her a tip, asking her if Beomseok still comes around. My ears perk up. I would’ve loved to see the guy. 

“I had to take the shift for him this morning, actually. The poor guy has some kind of a stomach bug. Are you, guys, friends?”

Jungkook nods, but doesn’t say anything else, which I’m grateful for. Beomseok was my classmate, the only friend I had in Daegu before I moved to Seoul. He didn’t support my decision to leave everything behind, but we reconciled, years later, when he followed my footsteps and we met at this very coffee place that he rebuilt with his own hands. Helped out the ahjussi who owned it; sweated blood, sweat and tears. And when the old man died, he left it in Beokseok’s hands, legally. 

I sit by the front windowsill once Jungkook brings me my coffee and sets down his, the banana flavor sailing through my nostrils as I take off my mask. I make a face at the sweetened scent and Jungkook raises his eyebrows at me before he shakes his head in dismay. I take a sip of the dark liquid, basking in the warmth that clings to my bones. 

But when he mentions her name, I spit out the coffee that I had yet to swallow. 

“What?” I ask, embarrassed. I didn’t hear the rest of the sentence and my cheeks flush. Jungkook’s forehead wrinkles—his brows quirking as far as they can and I wish the ground would swallow me up. 

Choking at the sound of her name? What has happened to me? 

“I said—” His bunny smile forms and I know I’m fucked, knee-deep in a quicksand of shit. He won’t let me live it down. “That she loves this flavor as much as I do.” 

I run a hand down my face. Jungkook chuckles into the plastic of his drink, wiping down my coffee on his plain black sweatshirt. 

“Which reminds me that you have stuff to tell me.” 

Anxiety pinches my fingertips. I was ready—or half ready—outside when he loosened the tensity of the atmosphere. But after the way I embarrassed myself in front of him, I don’t think I’m capable of telling him how much I fucked up. 

I’d rather suffer in silence and on my own. 

I look over at the girl. She’s sat back down on her stool and she’s reading the messages, her thumb trembling in the air before it swipes up, the other one in her mouth, her teeth nibbling on her long nail. 

The way I caressed Kitty’s fingernails bolts through my vision and my throat dries. I’ve shifted to the point that I begin to miss her and like the girl’s thumb, my jaw shakes. I still it, I hide it by propping my fist against it. 

Jungkook stares me down, urging me with his eyes and it works on me. I work well under pressure and he knows this. That guy is a puppy-fox hybrid and I hate him as much as I love him. 

“I don’t know where to begin,” I admit, and it’s true. It’s as vulnerable as I was last night and I can’t grasp how that emotion still breathes in me. I’m hoping it disappears as soon as I let it out, disappears into Jungkook, where it will be safe and locked. 

Jungkook takes a long sip without taking his eyes off of me. Smacks his mouth right after. “Did you fuck her?” 

It’s me who raises their brows at the brazenness of the question and I wish it were as simple as that. I wish I had fucked her and left her while she slept. Ended the story like that without any strings attached—without any additional chapters. But what I feel for her, the bound that is irrevocably unrelenting between us, exceeds a saga. That exceeds this entire lifetime. And I can’t admit that to him. 

“No,” I mumble, unable to reciprocate the eye contact, unable to tell him what we did because I don’t want him to know. I don’t want him to see her the way I did—let him in on her horniness. It was private and it was for me. I want to honor that and protect that privacy for her. It’s the only thing I can do now. The only right thing. My hands have gone mute. “But something did happen between us. I slept over and in the morning I fucked it up.” 

The vagueness of my words graces me with the fuzzy feelings I was used to before today, but I don’t trust them. I don’t fall for it—and my anxiety skyrockets, enough that a lump lodges in my throat. 

Jungkook doesn’t blink and I don’t wish to know what it means. “Fucked it up? How?” 

How do I tell him without spilling the entirety of me? Without disclosing that I coped with my girlfriend’s death by falsely believing that she was transcendently still with me, guiding me? 

No one can ever know that about me. Not even the being up above. 

“I wasn’t in the right mind to see her bare, so I had a go at her,” I mutter, my voice breaking and I take a sip to camouflage it, the warm liquid heating up the incoming of my past anger. “I regret it and I wish I could take it back.” I caress the fabric of the mask, crumpled on the wooden windowsill, and my lamentation blackens. “But she doesn’t wanna see me anymore.” 

Jungkook pulls his phone out of his pocket and places it beside his coffee. It startles me, but I concentrate my gaze on the only physical, tangible presence I have of her. 

“Did she tell you that?” 

Something opens within me, but once again I don’t trust it. 

“No.” 

“What makes you think she doesn’t wanna see you again?” 

I don’t answer, finding the question stupid. I toy with the ear strings of the mask, recollecting the way I did the same movement with her fingernails. And I don’t want to drink the coffee anymore. I don’t want to go to a work meeting—nor do I want to be here at this coffee shop. I don’t want to be anywhere; I don’t want to exist. 

Jungkook sighs. I still don’t look at him, gripping the string so hard against my knuckle that my thumb turns white. 

“You like her.” 

I do, but I don’t profess that, vocally. It’s pointless. As pointless as the course of my personal life. 

“Did you exchange numbers?” 

I shake my head ‘no’, the corners of my mouth naturally rounding in a frail pout. The thought of having her number and having the opportunity—

“If you see Yoongi sometime before work, make sure he’s well.” 

My head shoots up. Jungkook is bunny-smiling at his phone while holding his bizarre drink in his other hand. The remnants of my past anger magnetically affixes within me, creating a dynamic windstorm in me that really pushes me to lash out at him for taking the piss out of me like that. I grit my teeth, clench my fist, hold back with all my might that I feel my shoulder act up, paralyzing me with a pain that forces me back down until I curl in my seat—like that bespectacled girl. 

Defeated. 

“I can’t believe this is happening—”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, willing my softness back for him. Clutch my shoulder while he’s distracted. “Don’t fuck with me, Jungkook-ah. I’m not in the mood.” 

He hums in question, flicking his eyes at me. Seeing the state of me, he grows serious and locks his phone, setting it down. “I told you not to touch her, did I not?” 

I open my mouth to say something, but I run on empty, closing it back down. This is the reaction I anticipated and now that it’s here, it feels right. It feels like I deserve it—like I deserve to be told off. So I listen, my knuckles against my mouth, and I stare, numbly, at him. 

“I shouldn’t have let you take her home in the first place. I knew this would happen. I saw the way she looked at you when I introduced her to you. She was in a trace, hyung. And when you were the one to tell me she felt sick, I knew this was bad news,” he breathes out, his shoulders as broad and menacing as his words, and my guard collapses. I know where he’s going with this and I brace myself against it, brace myself against the cold, hard truth that will sever me in half. But I’m wrong. What he says next is something I never expected to hear from him. “Having a go at her is the worst thing you could’ve done to her, but she’s strong. She’s the strongest person I know besides you—”

His voice recedes and the background of this brown coffee shop dissolves into a pitch blackness. I sit in the middle of a tunnel, beaten and overpowered, his silenced words driving past me like cars, and I can’t move. A myriad of scenarios that explain why she’s the strongest person he knows darts through my brain, connecting with the big question mark of why she evanesced in her body in Hobi’s presence. And the reason why Jungkook disapproves of us fluxes over me like those liquid fuckers. 

She was hurt, badly, in her last relationship. And it feels as though I’m back on my side, on the hard ground, while it pours, the lights of my scooter streaking through it. 

“—but she obviously cares for you, unlike the others. She wouldn’t text me that if she didn’t, so take her fucking number from me and fix this. Grow a pair.” 

I blink at him with fluid sight. Brown evaporates through the black. 

“Don’t make me regret this.” 

And all of a sudden, I’m aware of what I’m doing when I seize his phone. See for myself that he wasn’t fucking with me like I thought he was. And I copy her number into a new contact. 

My thumbs hover in the air—just like the girl’s behind me. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, @hobiberrystuff, @kam9404, @fr0ggieth1nk.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist | READ second part here

[sozila]

WHEN ARE YOU FINISHING CHIAROSCURO NANAMI?!?!? (No rush or anything I js love it and crave the ending I understand writing takes a while🤍)

hi jilly willy 😊🩷 (i love your user ugh) thank you for your ask!!!

i am so sorry i haven’t been updating or active since AUGUST,,, that is really my bad, i hope you guys can forgive me 😣.. life was very busy!

in regards to chiaroscuro, the final chapter has been outlined completely and written 20%. i have been writing this weekend and will do tonight, so that’s all i can update for right now 🥹 i would like to say i might release this week but i’m not confident enough to promise that 😔 but know I SEE YOU GUYS and i love writing so i’ll never ghost without a finish 🫶

convalescence is my longer piece that i have now outlined for a good few chapters, but that release might be broken up so you can get more frequent uploads 🎀 i know the poll won for that choice, so i’m hearing y’all loud and clear babes 🫡

also, if you guys are in school/uni, prayers to you 😣🫶 i know work is slowly becoming more stressful, you got this 🤍

as always,

peace luv bathtub

ps. i didn’t forget the nanami drabble. it’s gaining word count in my notes. apologies 😣 i can never be casual about writing i fear

[dollivication]

hiii dolly it's 🃏 again, the new theme is sooo cute!! i hope ur doing well luv !! <33

i have another vergil related concept, which is priest/nun reader unknowingly being the object of vergil's attention

ohh he's obsessed with the reader, he can't help but purr when they're nearby. Their face is so sweet and so inviting. Their hands are soft and gentle, something vergil isn't used to at all..

they treat him so kindly, he can't help but want them for himself

of course he wants to see what's underneath that modest uniform. their body must be perfect, just like their face. Vergil almost passes out when he sees them in casual (still modest) clothing. alll that blood rushing towards his dick...

reader is oblivious, thinking vergil is just a awkward stand offish man..but he's so much more.

KYAAA!! also he wants to pop the reader's cherry sooo bad, especially since he knows they're sworn to celibacy.

idk how he would do it, maybe slipping something in the reader's communal wine or manipulating the reader into thinking it will be alright

:333 -🃏

HAIIII 🃏NON!!!! WELCOME BACK!1!!1!1!! AND THANK YOU SOOSOSOW MAUCH, MWA!!! IM DOING OKAY AND I HOPE YOURE DORING AMAZINGLY!!!

vergil being obsessed with a devoted reader is my kryptonite… he’s got demon blood in him, it’s literally in some of his nature to wanna corrupt and ruin shit!!! and reader juuust sow happens to be the object of his desire :3

the typa guy to go cwaaaazy knowing user is celibate!!! is literally so delusional, he convinces himself that the reason why they’re celibate is because they’ve been waiting for him,not because they’ve been waiting for marriage or some other bullshit!!

i reckon he would do both!!! first he would put a little secret something in the wine,and patiently wait 4 it to kick in so you’re in a daze and just soso compliant ^^!! it makes it that much easier to whisper in your ear about how the god you look up to personally made you for him all while he feels you up.

he’ll tell you that your god most certainly had plans for you, which were for you give yourself completely to him. to know your beloved religious figure is to reach ecstasy, vergil will say, all while he pumps his cock inside of you and watches how you slur so cutely on your words >.<… you’re so quick to believe him, it’s so adorable!

bonus points if he forces you to say a prayer despite knowing damn well you’re too out of it to even be coherent. hearing you recite broken verses will only make him bully his dick into you that much harder he’s so yucky<3

[ab4eva]

CONGRATS ON 1K, BABY!!! 💗🎉 you deserve it, luv.

blurb with prompt nr. 9 with el? 👀 you already know i need me song angst, baby!

Tam, thank you baby! We live for angst don’t we?! I hope this is angsty enough for ya! Xo 🩷

Prompt #9 with Elvis Presley - “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”

-

“Mr. Presley?” A faraway voice was speaking somewhere above him, probably to his father. He didn’t feel old enough to be called that. “Mr. Presley?” The voice said again and Elvis startled as a nurse’s hand settled gently on his shoulder and he looked up at her with a blank stare, tired blue eyes blinking slowly. Poor dear, thought the nurse, he hasn’t slept in two days.

Two days since you went into labor with the twins. Two days since complications arose just after their birth and the doctors had to forcefully remove Elvis from the delivery room, crying and fighting them every step of the way, terrified he’d never see you alive again. Two days since the doctors did everything they could but you went into a coma anyway. Two days as a father but that barely seemed to register with Elvis as he rarely left your bedside, sometimes just holding your hand. And sometimes, in the wee hours of the morning, he crawled into bed with you, wrapping his long body around your smaller one, laying his head on your shoulder and weeping like a little boy. The nurses could hear him from the hallway as he repeated one thing over and over again like a prayer - “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.” More often than not everyone within earshot ended up crying right along with the King of Rock n Roll.

The nurses brought the babies to him to hold every day for a little bit. One boy and one girl. He couldn’t bear to name them, not yet. Not without you. Even though you’d talked about names together, laughing in bed at Graceland at the silly ones and growing serious when you talked about naming one after his mother if you had a girl. He still couldn’t bring himself to name them, make it official. He was stubborn. He would wait. If he just waited, everything would be ok.

Now the nurse places the baby boy in his arms while the little girl sleeps in a bassinet next to him. Two little cherubs in pink and blue blankets, matching tufts of blonde hair. Baby boy squirms with his tiny fists clenched and makes little mewling noises. He lets out a high-pitched howl and Elvis bends over him, running a finger across his cheek to soothe him. When he looks up, he’s stunned to see your bleary, confused eyes staring back at him. He breathes a prayer of thanks as he gathers you in his arms, baby and all.

-

One more day to join my celly here!

[seiwas]

I really wish this ask goes off anon crossing my fingers on this one. The asks game is so nice i feel like Im huddled in a blanket with all you girlies (gn ofc) as we share stories-

I got a few story times, buckle in girlies I am gonna start rambling-

4 years ago I went to bali and there was this boy from New Zealand who had little freckles and ginger hair and a cutie pookie face. I met him at the hotel pool where we talked for quite long and then we said goodbyes and he had the prettiest smile ever and I never saw him again cause I left bali the very next day. If u see this I had a small instant crush on you and I still think of you occasionally lolz. (rizzing up a hi heheh)

also as I went to Thailand just a few days ago, I had a tour guide in Pattaya who was literally a kenjiro tsuda (nanami's va) lookalike, idek do you call that falling in love but I was shamelessly watching him drive cause that was attractive WHAT and he was waiting for us, wearing sunglasses and was smoking when we returned from the tour place to go home and I felt the butterflies MY GOD. Then I got to know he has a son and I felt like a homewrecker thank goodness I didn't see him ever again cause I was so ashamed lmaooo.

I am talking so much but this one is spooky special- Just a week or two ago, I had this dream of a zombie apocalypse and it was so scary. usually these movies don't really scare me much but in the dream I was like living through it and it was pretty vivid like blowing up doors to fight zombies, and there were even like sensors that would go off if a zombie was nearby and my sister was there in my dream too and I was saving her from this bloody zombie and then i woke up sweating and it was probably dawn so when I woke up I heard footsteps in the dining room and I froze and got the biggest scare in years. turns out it was my mom who came for a glass of water and prayers. Like girlie you scared the sleep out of me hello? the way i still remember parts of this dream. shit was spooky but it spices my life lmaoo

soo yeah these are at the top of my head i got a fair few but Imma keep it short with these 3 luv yall cant wait to hear from so many of yall too

hi sami!! welcome to the sleepover ✨

join the sleepover! send in an ask sharing/asking anything you want!

omg the way you still remember the boy from 4 years ago ajsnsjsnsjsh 😭 he does sound cute tho!

and thailand!! how was that for you?? & finding a kenjiro lookalike omg 😭 but i completely get u when u feel embarrassed cos… yeah 😭

and ur dream omg!! i’d surprised too if i woke up to noise while that was happening omg 😭 sometimes i get rlly vivid dreams too 😭 but my dreams are a bit more weird i think? than outright spooky! scary dreams for me are when they feel so true to life that i find myself thinking within the dream if i’m actually dreaming? (idk if that makes sense! almost like i’m looking for markers within the dream to let me know that i’m dreaming 😭)

thanks for dropping by to share sami!!! 🫶🏻

[deepbreathsluv]

Melancholy

I hope everything goes smooth,

Melancholy comfort, dwell in blues

Prayers for dreams, can we speak truths

At my arrival, the first to hear this news

Waves crashing at the beach, next to you

Strength in my soul, heart, and solitude.

Fresh breaths when there’s no air, a sole tree assisting my survivability.

You handed me the watering can filled to the brim with music

In this music i can birth hatred, love, affirmations, all of the above.

Sit right my beautiful dove, foreshadowing everything I feel alright to trust.

As you sleep and i sit awake I continue to adjust my posture, not to stay in character, but to recenter, to realign me.

Deep breaths luv, I can give you more than your dreams,

only after i finally give more to he.

Truly, luv.

No more reminiscent memories of being free,

Rather I am free, soaring to new peaks,

Speaking songs about you helped me bandage my wounded wings.

[catswonderland]

Warning 18+ Minors DNI

(ex fiancé’s/cheating, language- (hate-speech) & drinking/smoking)

Did this story on my own, title on my own.Pics come from, Pinterest & Ig

F.Oc- (No, Y/N)

Summary: Relationships equal art; constantly being made & re-made..

Number of words- (Don’t care)

_________

One-shot:

_________

*Luv u, miss u & see u at dinner 😊😂

Colson chuckled when receiving the message, a message that was really needed.Today wasn’t such a good day for the man, he already did a workout, only to be unsatisfied with his stress level still the same.

__Two days ago

“.. Wha-what are you talking about right now?”, the stuttering and not-so happy face said it all; Megan’s pissed, Colson’s prayer for calmness meant nothing & the third-party will get brutalized in some form.“There’s someone else”, seen as things seemed to be taking a bad turn the man just ran with being blunt.

“..H-how long?”, the stuttering continues, possibly won’t leave till the conversation ends; Colson looks at his lap for a moment & the third-party stifles wanting to fidget in their seat on the couch.“A month”.

__Present day

Check Ig- Ashleigh

Standing alone in the gym parking lot had now increased said-stress, Colson had a good idea of what his friend was hinting at.

Shit will happen later- Kells

__Two days ago

“..Who-who is she or do I not know her?”, the question anyone in this predicament would dread, Colson though took it on without blinking.“Nah, we’re not gonna get into who she is or what she does”.

“..Least I tried for an answer”, with a sigh Megan reached for her glass of champagne on the mini-table within the living-room, while taking her dark eyes off the couple in front of her it was missed the quick glance.

__Present day

Pulling out a cigarette and lighter from a pants pocket Colson sat on the hood of his car while the cellphone stayed un-used in his lap.Inhale, exhale is all the man did for five-minutes on his cigarette, not doing anything else so as not to disturb his thoughts.

__Two days ago

“..Rose, give my doctor a call and tell him that things have to be re-scheduled”, without looking up from her glass Megan gave the order to her assistant, an assistant who happened to have been sitting down on the couch hearing everything from the shattering couple.“Rose doesn’t have to do anything but relax”, before sparking a joint Colson re-directed the authority as he wasn’t going to take his ex-fiancée trying to find a way to control someone just because she felt control-less.

__Present day

“..48hrs ago I was once an engaged woman of over a yr, 48hrs ago I was told the engagement is over ‘cause a slut’s been chosen instead.Cheating should never be excused when found it’s happened one-time, cheating should definitely never be excused when found it’s been happening for a month. I’ve done nothing but be supportive for friends/ family of @ machinegunkelly in following their dreams, I’ve done nothing but love friends/ family of @ machinegunkelly within good/ bad times; no response of apologies for the horrible pain that’s being undergone.One of my own ppl has even decided to give the silent-treatment during this painful time; yr assistant @ black-rose. Gonna take a break from social an Los Angeles, for how long on either not sure”

Blue eyes ice-cold, smoke from a cigarette’s last drag leaving mouth & hands twitching; yeah, nobody would want to be around Colson right now.Anybody can disrespect the man if they want, now if anybody disrespects the man’s friends & family then it’s game-over; Megan obviously doesn’t remember this lesson.

__Two days ago

Colson was standing by the opening of the living-room watching his ex-fiancée go up an down the stairs twice, each time carrying a bag.Rose couldn’t leave her seat from the couch, it was like she was stitched to it with head held in her hands.

Waist-length black hair in a slight wavy mess, no make-up, long-sleeve black jacket over white crop-top, light-blue colored blue jeans & translucent heels; Megan never looked so offsetting.“..Getting the rest of my stuff will happen when able to find a new place”, with this said Colson just gave a nod of acceptance an took back the second-house key as it wasn’t needed seen as once a text was given with the pick-up date he would open the front-door for the movers.

__Present day

“..Well this is embarrassing, not for me though but for

@ Meganfox..

When I met my ex-fiancée thought things could be cool for a while, didn’t think I’d fall for her but I did, as a result we got engaged.We had good times but later on the bad outweighed, some of the things speculated on her characteristics were actually true:

1. Non-trusting-(why we were ‘always together’ at tours or parties), 2. Temper-mental-(had to leave rooms so as not to get hurt with things thrown at me or had to leave so as not to be the type of guy to a hit a woman, even though attacks would serve as self-defense) etc.

The answer of cheating & if I’m still with my ‘slut’..

Cheating did happen for a month but there’s no regret.I’m actually still with my ‘slutty girl’ an happily so.

On topic of friends/family & assistant..

My inner-circle don’t owe my ex-fiancée ‘sympathy calls/txts’, not when they know some of the shit she’s pulled.Talking of a yr assistant not giving ‘sympathy calls/txts’ is pretty fucking weak, only thing between them was work; @ blackrose tried to make a connection to be friends but it didn’t work, even if it did work it wouldn’t last for long.

Final say..

‘Gonna take a break from social an Los Angeles’, fan-fucking-tastic the world an this city will be free from trouble”

Getting off the hood an taking a releasing-breath felt good, getting into the driver-seat to go home an take a shower before heading out to dinner felt great.

__Three days later

Posts by the split-couple were read an re-read.People were in a frenzy of emotions; shock, sadness, anger & happiness.

Megan didn’t have a single ‘like’; first for her with a selfie.The matter of ‘comment’ more than made up for the ‘non-like’ as people, especially EST had something to say.Despite everything being done nothing was given from the talked-on woman; she’s kept to her word of silence on social & so far nothing’s been known in news of where she’s at either.

Colson wasn’t getting the response like his ex-fiancée;‘like’ in the past few days had reached ‘four thousand’ for just the five pictures alone.The thing with ‘comment’ reached ‘seven thousand’; no other further reason as to why.Next thing to set apart from the trashed-ex had to be that the responses were constantly being noticed; standing in the kitchen waiting on a omelette to be done with a cellphone in hand was Rose.

“You should be ashamed of yourself.Leaving me in bed is a crime”, the smirk could be heard, not in anyway needed to be seen; Rose snorted in amusement.*Immediately shaking in fear for the jail-time given*, inked-arms came from behind to fold over sight-plump waist while a teasing-breath landed on an ear.“Shake in fear.Jail-time, life-sentence”.

*Col, you want an omelette or coffee*, a sigh came from the man in question.“What I want is for you to stop worrying, don’t even try to deny that you are”.The atmosphere became tense, not the free- flowing hilarity it was.

*When people know of us, fully, god things will further change.Megan sure will try to use a spin-technique in order to help herself get back to people’s graces*, the light-sizzling of the omelette cooking was the only thing keeping noise while the couple were silent in their thoughts.“Things will be alright.People that do have half-the-truth are already on my-side, on our-side, even if it’s not known yet.Megan can try to say shit but she’s gonna fail at it though”.

Colson gently nudged at Rose’s waist so she could face him.“Go back to bed, I’ll be up there soon after breakfast is finished”, the smile received was soft, full of love an it made the man’s heart melt.

Once again the kitchen was quite save for the light-sizzling in the pan.Colson’s blue eyes wondered the breakfast-bar; unused ingredients to make another omelette on either side of the sink that had a few dishes from last night.

In his thoughts while flipping the omelette onto a plate an starting to make another, Colson was grinning; thinking back on everything the last few days once again would do this, especially when thinking on the pictures, ego-boost an all.Five pictures were sent an nothing would change the man’s mind about using different ones; Rook, Baze, Slim, Dub, Ashleigh were all in groups looking like enthusiastic-idiots: smiling wide, grinning, smirking around either a living-room or pool & Rose looked drop-dead-gorgeous: honey-blonde hair over one-shoulder looked like a halo that set-off her natural light-golden skin, crimson-cutout dress fitted like a second-skin as it showed off the curvy-body that never went untouched by greedy-lips or hands, golden-set jewelry was the topping as it was a gift finally used within a personal message a few days ago for a show of what awaited at an outing-dinner.

Second omelette down, Colson made his way to the bedroom, grin gone but smile on; breakfast-in-bed was the new order of things, it was concluded.

_________

• One-shot won’t have add-ons

[authorluvgxbby]

Heyy :)), I saw your requests open and I was wondering if you can write up some tokyo rev headcanons for this scenario:

Chracter visits reader's house for 'studying' but when the enter the house they are immediately greeted by a huge ass doberman dog who's looking at them like they murdered their mom. And reader's just like : whuehue they don't bite :))

(I just went into my bestie's house and they didn't inform me their cousin and their dog was visiting and I felt like I almost died like three times when the dog tried to tackle me, like their paws are literally up my shoulder and their slobber was all over my face. The owner's just like 'oh he's an angel he just wanted to be friends with u' sir you don't know how to speak dog how do you know if it's actually telling me to prepare my prayers? Shdhgdhdgd sorry for oversharing but I just wanted to tell u where this came from and I also want to see others suffer the same thing. Thankss ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️)

A/N: Of course, thank you so much for the request❤️ I laughed so hard while writing this 😂 It was so much fun to do. Here you go luv, I hope you like it!

Characters: Ran, Takemichi, Shinichiro, Baji, Chifuyu

Ran

The poor bastard never expected to be face-to-face with your personal bloodhound and it was all Rindou’s fault. The younger haitani was used to coming over your house and he knew you had a dog, so when Ran told him he’d be “borrowing” you for the night to study, best believe he made sure not to mention a word about the canine that guarded you and your house.

Was screaming like a little girl when the dog started barking as it towered over him, looking like it was ready to make the lanky male its next chew toy.

He thought that if he was going to die, he’d make sure he didn't get his face messed up too bad.

“ANYTHING BUT THE FACE!”

While Ran was screaming bloody murder and begging for his life to a hundred pound dog, you were innocently watching the whole commotion through the home camera that was installed.

“Y/n why the fuck do you have that demonic mutt in your house?!” “ ‘Demonic’? He’s a sweetheart, he wouldn’t hurt a fly!”

Ran believed that it was utter bullshit, especially after he almost had his gorgeous face mauled.

No matter how much you reassured him, he didn’t dare come near the dog.

Complained that he could’ve died because you nor Rindou told him that you had a dog.

He spends the whole night fighting with the dog for your attention and when it would get too close to him, he would use you as a shield.

He definitely considered the idea of poisoning it at some point.

When it was time to leave he made a mental note to murder Rindou when he saw him after putting him in a near-death experience.

Takemichi

The poor soul passed out right then and there when he was face to face with your “human friendly” pet.

Chifuyu suggested that he should get some ‘tutoring’ from you since he was struggling so much in class.

His friend was an idiot, so of course he forgot to mention that the pet you had was a Doberman.

His screams were definitely mistaken for a little girl’s scream. The whole neighborhood could hear him.

When you come to see what is happening, you see Takemichi knocked out cold while your dog covers him in drool as he licks his face.

“A-am I dead?” “No, you idiot! My baby would never hurt someone!”

Genuinely thought you were crazy to think something as big as your Doberman wouldn’t jump at the chance to chew his limbs off.

He makes up an excuse that he was just stopping by and didn’t need any tutoring.

Cries to Chifuyu that he almost died because of him.

“If I die, I’ll make sure I drag you to hell with me!” Quoted a teary-eyed Takemitchy.

Shinichiro

The older Sano just wanted to spend some time with you after a stressful day, but was thrown into despair after seeing a Doberman greet him in your living room.

The poor soul gets chased around your house for a whole hour before you come home to see him hitting your dog with a pillow.

“Y/n! Thank god! PLEASE HELP ME!” 

When you explain to him that you recently had gotten a dog for extra protection, it made him offended. Why get a dog when you have someone that would protect you with their life? Let alone someone who has a whole gang backing him up.

He would complain that you could’ve gotten a medium sized dog instead of asking hell for one of its' bloodhounds to be your canine companion. 

When he tries to smoke, the dog would growl at him as a warning not to smoke around you.

When he tells Wakasa and Benkei about what had happened, they admit that they also had similar encounters with your dog. They secretly made a pack that if they were to encounter your dog without you around again, they’d fight it off together. 

“If one of us goes down, then we all go down” - Shinichiro.

One day, he brought his siblings over to your house with him and your dog instantly fell in love with the two. (Complained later on that the dog was trying to replace him)

Manjiro and Emma teased him for being a wimp and he had threatened to feed them to the dog, but ended up almost having his hand bitten off afterwards.

Baji

He was used to dealing with animals at the pet shop, especially angry cats, but dealing with a huge ass Doberman was a different story.

The moment he walks in your house, he is greeted with your angry-looking Doberman with small bits of meat decorating its teeth.

He genuinely thought you had been eaten by it.

In an attempt to get away, he throws his backpack at it while running out the door.

He ends up bumping into you and is relieved yet confused at the same time.

It takes you two whole hours just to get him to calm down.

“He doesn’t bite Baji!” “You weren’t the one that thought it ate their friend.”

When he sees Chifuyu at the pet shop, he makes sure that they don’t end up taking in any big dogs like the one he had encountered with you.

Has nightmares about his cats getting murdered by your dog for the next two weeks.

Chifuyu

Similar to Baji, Chifuyu is an expert at handling animals, but not huge dogs.

You and him were studying for an upcoming exam and you had forgotten that you needed to feed your dog.

Now, in Chifuyu’s mind he thinks you have one of those small-sized puppies girl’s usually like. But, he’s proven wrong when you come back with a huge Doberman following behind you, already eyeing Chifuyu as his dinner.

At the moment, it looked like you were going to feed him to the dog.

He starts to beg for forgiveness for whatever he’s done wrong to make you want to use him as a human sacrifice. 

Goes on and on about stuff he did wrong while clinging on to your leg. 

Poor Chifuyu was in a state of panic, until you shook him hard enough for him to get his act together.

“Chifuyu he’s trained, he won’t eat you.” “Last time I checked you don’t speak dog language! What if he plans to eat me behind your back!”

He thinks it’s jealous of him because you guys are close.

Forces you to come over his house if you want to see Peke J. because he firmly believes your dog will try to murder his cat out of spite.

Wanted Baji to suffer the same thing he went through, but ended up getting the shit beat out of him afterwards.

[thewritingdungeon]

Open Wide

SUMMARY: Chibs decides to get back at you for not letting him have his fun earlier.

CHARACTERS/PAIRING: Filip “Chibs” Telford/Reader

WORD COUNT: 307

WARNINGS: smut, praise kink, glove kink, vaginal fingering

A/N: A second round of harassment specially written for @nellblazer. This piece is technically a continuation of my previous Chibs/Reader piece, Prayer of a Different Kind, but can be read on its own. Perhaps one day, the middle bit in between these scenes will even make an appearance.

The slick sound you make when Chibs adds a second finger into you is obscene. You bite your lip to keep from keening a whine and grip the headboard harder.

“Tsk, tsk. Now tha’s no' very nice to do, is it?” chides Chibs when he sees your attempt to keep quiet. He stills his hand, shifting over you on the bed to tug the bruised flesh out from where your teeth have trapped it with the other hand. You take the brief moment of tenderness to brush your lips against his thumb, and Chibs smiles. Then, he shifts his grip to grab your chin. “Open wide, luv. I told you I wanted to hear every sound out of that pretty mouth of yours.”

Petal pink lips part upon hearing the command, and two thick, gloved fingers slide into your waiting mouth.

“You know what to do, darlin’.”

You don’t dare to close your mouth, letting your tongue lave against the supple leather to the approving groan of the man above you. But still, Chibs refuses to move the fingers still stuffed deep inside your pussy. It’s not until you clench around them and gift him with the muffled whine you had been keeping in that he picks up again. As soon as the sound escapes around his fingers, Chibs begins to fingerfuck you in earnest, letting slick digits rip choked out gasps and moans from your throat.

“That’s what I like to hear!” The praise is laced with the dark and ragged edge of lust. He lets the two fingers in your mouth slide in deeper until the only noises coming out of you are as slick and wet as the noises between your legs. “Tha’s right, girl. Be a good one now and gag on my fingers the same way you did my cock this mornin’.”

[penwieldingdreamer]

Dante's Prayer - A Peaky Blinders Story

It's been a while since I wrote anything regarding the fandoms I used to be active, but thanks to @fortheloveoffanfic I found another one that picked my interest. This is the first part of my Peaky Blinders story, let me know what you think. Like, reblog, comment if you want and let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

Summary:

When the dark wood fell before me And all the paths were overgrown, When the priests of pride say there is no other way I tilled the sorrows of stone.

I did not believe because I could not see Though you came to me in the night, When the dawn seemed forever lost You showed me your love in the light of the stars

- Dante's Prayer by Loreena McKennitt -

Warnings: Mentions of war, mentions of sex, period-typical sexism, canon-typical violence

Words: 1410

Prologue

Outside of Birmingham, 1923

Breathless pants were the only sounds echoing in the silence of the small cottage.

"I missed ya so fookin' much." he mumbled against her back as they tried to catch their breaths and Arthur pulled the sheets over their naked bodies.

Niamh smiled at the sensation of his beard lightly scratching her skin, committing it to memory before he'd leave her again. "It's not my fault, you've been avoiding me."

"I know, I'm sorry." he sighed, running his fingers along the skin of her shoulder and neck. "I'm going to marry Linda."

Swallowing the lump that formed in her throat, the redhead blinked away the tears that were gathering in her eyes, thankful for facing away from the eldest Shelby brother. "I believe this means goodbye then?"

"It doesn't have to be goodbye." Arthur breathed, his lips languidly moving along her spine. "We ain't serious."

Turning her head towards him, Niamh shook her head. "We can't continue this, it was good while it lasted."

"Why not?" he asked, leaning onto his elbow to watch her closely. He had known her since before the war, occasionally having had a tryst under the bridge by the Cut and when he had been drafted he spent three days until his leaving with her, promising to return as the same man that he left but he couldn't keep that promise, just like he never could promise her his heart.

"I'm scared, Arthur." she finally said after a while, her voice vibrating in the quiet air.

Brushing his hair out of his face, he moved his hand closer to her face, his roughened fingers stroking along the column of her throat. "What are you scared of?"

Biting her lip, Niamh put her smaller hand on his own. "Of falling for you, like I'm trying to avoid ever since you have gotten back. You're marrying her and if we continue, you'll only break my heart." Her eyes turned red from the unshed tears she kept at bay the entire time.

"I never promised ye love." Arthur replied gruffly, sitting up on the bed. "I best be going, or else you'd be throwing your heart at me feet."

Pulling the sheets up to her neck, Niamh wordlessly watched him get dressed, feeling the sting of heartbreak in her chest when there had been no love on both ends. Once he had haphazardly thrown on his pants and dress shirt, leaving the vest and suspenders off, Arthur turned one last time, burning the image of his favorite redhead into his mind's eye. Never would he forget the faces she made when he had given her the ecstasy she longed for, knowing he'd not be able to see the same expressions with his soon-to-be-wife.

One last time she watched him nod in goodbye, knowing his head couldn't be turned. The eldest Shelby would have only committed, if - and that was a very big IF - she had been with his child, but Niamh knew how to avoid it as well as he did. Nights in the war could be very cold and lonely so the army had handed out precautions for the soldiers to enjoy their time between the fights. Arthur had told her often enough how his dreams of family and romance had been snuffed out by the brutality of the war, that he would avoid the subject as best as he could, yet here he left her stranded in her cottage by the lake they used to swim in as teenagers, to have a wife and family, probably children along the way.

Arthur climbed inside Tommy's car, taking a deep breath before he screamed out the despair and grief that had been eating away at him ever since he returned from France. Niamh had been a distraction and Linda had given him the hope to get his dreams back, so why did he feel the same sense of loss he had felt when their father had betrayed him and left them again? The noose around his neck was back, tighter than before.

"FUCK!" He hit the steering wheel with such force, that it rattled the whole construction. Arthur needed to let go, he would marry Linda in three weeks and start a new part of his life with her.

“I, Arthur, take thee, Linda, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”

“I, Linda, take thee, Arthur, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth.”

The eldest Shelby brother gently took her hand and slipped the golden band onto her left ring finger, repeating after the priest. “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

Linda smiled up at him, her eyes so full of love and shining with happiness that he couldn't help but get infected by her. Returning her smile, Arthur leaned in and gently laid his lips on hers. His brothers cheered, albeit forcing themselves to be happy for him and his new wife. She had brought faith back into his life and would help him achieve his dreams of family and fortune.

When he looked up, at the end of the aisle Arthur thought he saw a flash of red before it disappeared again.

Had she come to witness his wedding? Maybe trying to stop it all together?

But no, he had told her goodbye, told her she wasn't the one for him because unlike Linda, Niamh hadn't changed his way. Hadn't made him see the light in this darkness again. At least that was, what he was trying to tell himself, because buried deep down in the pit of his heart there was a small fire burning for the redhead, that would never be put out, no matter how much water he'd use to kill the flames.

"Come on brother, let's celebrate your union." John called, pulling both Linda and him into a tight hug before he joined his wife Esme and their children on the way to the Garrison where Tommy had prepared the reception. At first Linda had protested, having wanted a proper banquet but she was soon overruled when Arthur told her it was easier that way. She'd have to learn that arguing with his brother or even Aunt Polly was never a good way to live in the Shalby family, it would be more peaceful to just concede and try to be happy about it.

"Come on now, luv, let's get some refreshments before we consummate our wedding and really make it official, ey." the eldest Shelby grinned at his wife, leaning down to swiftly brush her lips with his own, before he grabbed her waist and pulled her along to the pub.

Niamh had been planning to avoid the ceremony, knowing that only heartache would follow but she needed to be there to hear his vows and see his actions. Only then could she try to forget Arthur Shalby and move on, just like he did. No thought had been spared for her when he had repeated the words, giving his ring to her and promising a new life.

During the wedding she had wanted to stop them so many times, but when the final words of their vows had been spoken, she knew it was too late. He now was a married man and she, just a girl, a woman he used to know before he found Linda and her faith.

Taking a deep breath, the redhead hastily brushed a stray tear away and grabbed her bag, leaving the church as fast as possible, yet one pair of eyes followed her, always watchful for the happenings around them, knowing fully well that she hadn't just been there by mistake and trying to piece together what the real reason had been behind her short visit in the house of the Lord.

[midasinc]

and feuilly/enjolras hcs I will luv u forever

i did a canon era post for them one time! i'll link that before modern stuffs :)

modern era feuilly/enjolras:

-ive been rlly thinking about doner shops recently, so i imagine that feuilly works at the doner shop that les amis meet in (turkish feuilly !) and he catches enjolras's eye very easily. he makes him a drink one day and enjolras has never really been interested in someone before, but this scruffy dude behind the counter who smiles when he rings him up is... omg

-anyway enj does all of these speeches and all of this charity where he's front and centre, but then suddenly he forgets how to talk to someone he likes. he has no idea how to talk to feuilly. he copes by buying like three sandwiches per meeting and feuilly is kinda just like (jesus this hot guy eats a lot) but enjolras is kind of just passing them off to his other friends. feuilly starts eavesdropping on their meetings and this sort of stuff affects him because of his own social standing and experiences with oppression so when he's clocking out one day, he sits next to joly and listens in. enjolras notices and sort of loses his train of thought, but gets back on track and feuilly thinks he's like a star. enjolras is incredible and he wants in (im not gonna say literally, but-)

-he introduces himself after the meeting and becomes a regular when he isn't working and he becomes a really good friend of enjolras. they're both really smart and have really deep, philisophical conversations and oh my god enjolras is so in love. he is so mf in love.

-they get together when feuilly looks over and enjolras is staring at his hand and his face is so red and he kind of gets that enj wants to take charge but can't, so feuilly just takes enjolras's hand and sort of turns their hang-sesh into a date. things are good after that

-enjolras is terrified of feuilly's snake but after a while at feuilly's house, he kind of gets over his fear of her and pats her smooth lil head and it's okay. he isn't obsessed with her, but they have a mutual understanding of each other

-when they're over at each other's places, feuilly still has his own concerns of saving money, so he's really insistent on sharing showers and turning off heat at night and cuddling instead and enjolras's brain stutters for a moment but oh my god yeah he doesn't mind

-enjolras also watches his nerd movies with feuilly and explains all of the lore and plot points to him and feuilly just kinda smiles and listens because seeing enjolras so into something is a joy. it's his favourite pasttime to hear enjolras talk about nothing

-it also surprises feuilly how big enjolras is on pda. he's not shy at all with his affection and loves to hold hands and kiss cheeks and wrap his arm around feuilly's waist or gently lead him through a crowd with a hand to the small of his back. enj likes 2 touch

-courf and combeferre have accepted this point that feuilly being over in the mornings is not that surprising and they're just kinda like "hey" and move past him making toast in the kitchen to make their coffee. it's nice to know that enj can actually get some

-they go to trivia nights at a bar because they're both so fucking smart and know so much random information. feuilly is really good at geography and history and enj is good at pop culture and business and together, they've won a ton of games. when they show up, the other regulars say their prayers bc baby, these two will absolutely destroy everything in their path

-feuilly is really good with his hands and likes to play with enjolras's hair when they're just hangin out and enjolras goes to get a drink with a ton of random little braids in his hair and he looks insane but it's cute

[blueprint-han]

on top of the world ↠ hhj.

genre: royal au; fluff inspired by a fucking barbie movie leave me alone okay

⇥ warnings: if having a ballroom dance with hyunjin is a warning, then <3, district names are randomly chosen, not meant in reference to SKZ !!

wc: 1.5 K

⇥ disclaimer: this fiction does not aim to represent the activities of the real Hwang Hyunjin, nor does it represent JYPE in any form. Events are pure fiction. ♡

type: drabble.

taglist: @stayverse @districtninewriters @inkidz​ @sunoo-luvs 

part of: the url drabble game; requested by @tpwkjerii​ (requests for this are closed now!)

↯ note: dghwey i had literally no idea what to write for your url, so i searched up the full form of “tpwk” and ended up with “treat people with kindness”. I developed it into an idea i already had. Tell me if you like it <33 ⇥ dawn.☀️

↯ note 2: oh... i cannot... write fantasy for the life in me. ⇥ dawn.☀️

“Ladies, all in line.” The instructor clapped her hand, signaling all the princess and lady royals to line up in front of her. You quickly scrambled out of where you were seated, almost doubling over your heels as you tried to wobble your way to the line. 

Oh curse those heels. They were gonna be the reason you crashed headfirst into the floor one day, you were sure. They were those typical pointy, magenta colored pumps that only an expert in poise could pull of properly. Your uniform didn’t help either, layers and layers of clothing — topped of with a jacket, which meant you would be sweating buckets if it weren’t for the air conditioning.

Gosh, you hated being the princess and heir to the next throne. Why couldn’t you just lounge in the courtroom in your sweats and sneakers? They were more fashionable anyway. When your mom had told you that you were gonna attend “Royal Training School”, you’d pictured horse riding in the lush green stables, elegant dinners with rich silverware, and most of all — just having some time away from the royal castle, just having some time for yourself and having fun in that time.

Well, you were in for a huge mess.

It’d been only a week since you attended this place, and you hated it. The place woke you up at 5 a.m., shoved breakfast (which was mostly a piece of “high gluten” bread) to your hands and then took you ballroom dancing. So your day was terrible from the beginning already. There was no horseback riding, no sword fighting, because according to your parents — “princesses didn’t do fights”. Seemed superstitious to you, someone with a forward thinking mind, but what could you do?

Too dazed in your thoughts, your foot slipped and you lurched forward. You yelped loudly, but before you could catch the attention of the class or feel the polished marble against your face, a hand wrapped around your waist, ceasing your fall and holding you mid-air.

“You okay, princess?”

You snapped back into attention, eyes meeting with your classmates, all of them having a shocked look on their faces, and some of them anger. Turning around, you were surprised to gaze into hazel brown eyes that seemed to draw you in without reserve.

“Um..., princess?”

“Ah, yes!” You snapped out of it once again, straightening up as you smoothened the fabric of your shirt. “T-Thank you.” You took once glance at his face, and... wow. He was absolutely ethereal. His golden locks of hair fell perfectly over his temples, he adorned a majestic black suit and by just looking at him, he exuded confidence.

He giggled. “It’s alright, princess. Glad you aren’t hurt.”

“Oh, that-”

“Ahem!” The both of you looked to the side, noticing now how the entire class, along with the instructor were giving you snobby glares. “If you’re done chit chatting, can we start out class, Princess Y/N and Prince Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin. That was a pretty name.

You noticed that there was another line of men, wearing similar attire like Hyunjin, lined up in front of the princesses. “They must be from another academy,” Silent thoughts flooded your mind as you took your place, and your eyes went wide when you found yourself face to face with the Hyunjin guy again, though there was a reasonable distance between the both of you.

“Now, royals.” The instructor chimed, clacking her heels against the surface as she waltzed to the edge of the room. “You’ve been practicing ballroom dancing with yourselves for a while now, so The Head and me decided that it would be a good idea for you to get a little peek of what the actual thing looks like.” She said uninterestedly, picking at the underside of the nails as she started the music.

Immediately, slow, melodious music flooded through the speakers as you looked at one another. and then at the guy in front of you... err, Hyunjin. “You’ve already been partnered up, so get started.”

Your mouth dropped open a bit when you realised what the instructor’s statement meant, almost panicking when all the girls next to you bowed down gracefully, coaxing you to follow the same. Hyunjin did the signature “bow down and lend a hand” pose like his other classmates, and you hesitantly straightened up, lending a hand to him.

Immediately, just like how confident he looked, he pulled you close to himself, settling his hands on your hips as a smirk graced his features.

Ah... so he’d noticed you blushing.

You didn’t know why you were blushing in the first place. You’d never met this person before, but something about him just made the giddy schoolgirl in you bubble up to the surface. You shyly settled your hands on his shoulders, moving along to the beat with his motions... and silently praying your ant’s worth of dancing knowledge would not fuck this up.

“So, should we do the introductions?”

“What?” You asked, almost stumbling on your feet once again. You made a mental reminder to burn the current pair of heels you were sporting.

“Don’t you introduce yourself to the person you’re dancing with?” he heaved a laugh, almost melting at how adorably bashful you were getting in his hold. You were about to mumble a response, but then stopped, gathered your confidence, and smiled sweetly.

“Oh well then, I’m Princess Y/N from District 8; honor to meet you.” You said in a sing song voice, muffling a laugh as Hyunjin twirled you around in his hold and pulled you back. The velvet coat was soft under your touch, and for some odd reason, you wondered how his soft-lookin hair would feel under your palm.

“I’m Prince Hyunjin from District 10; equally honored to meet you,” He tilted his head to the side and you noticed him bite his lip for a second. Brushing it off, you continued swaying to the music, feeling slightly more at ease now.

“How’s school here, princess Y/N? You enjoying?” His tone was respectful, almost like he was talking to a friend he met after many years,

“Nah,” You rolled your eyes, making Hyunjin look at you like a confused puppy, waiting for you to explain. Hyunjin wasn’t used to someone hearing they disliked royal training, especially when he’d found it nothing but enjoying.

“It’s just the same old. “Oh go to ballroom, learn to balance books on your head, walk with grace, eat your food elegantly, dance again. sleep early!” Your voice was a hushed whisper, yet mocking. “You’d think that’s what I should’ve expected, but I wanted to learn sword fighting, horse riding, that kind of stuff. They barely let us outdoors here.” You tsked, watching as Hyunjin bit his lip again.

“What?” You asked, figuring that Hyunjin knew you’d noticed his action.

He chuckled. “Your stepping on my toes.”

“Oh crap I am?” You looed down, pulling your feet farther away from his as an apology crawled up your tongue, but before you could shoot it out, Hyunjin stopped you. “It’s okay.”

“Maybe I’ll step on yours and we’ll get even?” He winked, a smug look on is face as he waited for your reply. The music was basically forgotten at his point, both f you lost in a world where nobody else existed, just you, your thoughts, your words, and your giggles. You mirrored his playful expression. “I’d like to see you try.”

Hyunjin didn’t break eye contact, and you felt a small flutter in your chest when he did so. He lifted his foot, but you were too quick, you moved your foot away the moment he settled his own down, and then for revenge, you stepped on his foot once again.

“Ouch!” Hyunjin shrieked, and thanks to the loud music. no one could hear him. You hadn’t stomped too hard thankfully, but Hyunjin’s cute expression when he crinkled his nose sent you into a spiral of giggles.

“Hey! You’re supposed to treat people with kindness” He pouted, twirling you around once again as he led you to the next spot in the ballroom. Your feet basically slid around at this point, and you didn’t even mind your heels.

“Yeah? That’s what you get for trying to step on a princess’ toes.” You rested your head against his shoulder, muffling your giggles as well as calming your heart at the sudden sprut of confidence.

Hyunjin’s grip on your waist tightened, making you straighten up, faint heat dusting your cheeks. The dance was almost coming to an end, and you wished it could go on forever. You hadn’t had such fun in a while, but unfortunately, Hyunjin didn’t belong to this academy. Sadly, the dance would come to an end.

“Maybe I can teach you horse riding?” Hyunjin inquired, a curious glint in his eyes as he watched your reaction. You gasped in shock.

“Y-you’d be willing to do that?”

“Of course, if you’re up for it.”

“How will we even do that?”

“I mean, you can’t tell me you haven’t sneaked out of the premises at night.”

You remained silent.

“Thought so.” Hyunjin winked again. “So, what do you say?”

You twirled around one more time, moving slightly closer to him when you came back this time. The next moment, the music stopped, and you murmured to him with a smirk pulled at your lips.

“I’d be on top of the world.”

↯ note: 🕯️ ignore me this is just a small prayer that tumblr doesn’t make me battle the tags yet again 🕯️ may the tumblr gods be in my favor atleast this once ;-; 🕯️ ⇥ dawn.☀️

[ikevamp-shrine]

Hiya! I just wanted to know if you take headcanon requests and if yes I just wanted to see your take on the ikevamp boys playing seven minutes in heaven? I just love the way you write so much I had to ask ☺️ 💕

Thank you for requesting ❤️ I hope you enjoy this and if you would like me to write for Vincent, Dazai, Shakespeare, Sebastian and Jean just say so (I couldn’t really think of anything for them but I can try again if y’all want it). And thank you for the compliment hun☺️.

Author: @ikevamp-shrine

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Characters: Le Comte, Arthur, Theo, Leonardo, Mozart, Napoleon, Isaac

Prompt: seven minutes in heaven

Warnings: none

It was just supposed to be a small get together, or banquet as Le Comte calls it, no one would have thought it would come to this.... playing seven minutes in heaven.

Mozart

“This is annoying,” Mozart huffed as he once again shoved a mop handle off his form, the wooden cleaning tool quickly falling back against his scowling form.

“At least look at the bright side of our predicament Wolf,” you mumbled wracking your brain for the bright side of being shoved in a utilities closet by a bunch of vampires.

Mozart scoffed, you could feel his eye roll from your cramped position in front of the musician even if you couldn’t see it.

“There is no bright side. We’re in a dark, disgusting storage closet when I could be composing and you could be wasting your miserable life away.”

“Wow Wolf, you sure know how to charm a person,” you laughed weakly trying to make yourself smaller so you wouldn’t enrage the agitated man even further.

Mozart was quiet for a moment, his fingers drumming against the wall in a simple melody. He sighed gently, huffing once more and scrunching his nose, “It doesn’t nessessarly bothering me that much when it’s you, here with me.”

You felt him reach up to sweep a stray lock of his hair away as a smirk slowly warped your lips.

“Aww, so you do like me.”

Mozart sneered at your words, “do not flatter yourself.”

Theo

“Stop touching me hondjie,” Theo grumbled as he pushed your arm away from him.

You sighed, growling internally at his thorny attitude. You knew this was a bad idea- playing seven minutes in heaven that is, especially with the crude art dealer.

“I can’t really move anywhere else now can I you ass?” You mumbled letting your head fall back onto the dark wall, a frown on your face.

“Idiot.”

“Douche.”

“Mutt.”

“Soggy sock.”

“Dramatic- did you just call me a soggy sock?” Theo questioned, interrupting his insult with a baffled tone of voice.

You huffed and rolled your eyes at his words only to push his hand away that magically found its way against your thigh.

Theo shifted, knocking over a broom, and slammed his hand above your head against the wall behind you.

“I asked you a question Hondjie,” Theo growled deeply, grasping your chin between his digits. It surprised you- how gentle his fingers were against your skin. His thumb slowly traveled down your jaw to tug at the plush pad of your bottom lip.

His sweet, syrupy scent mixed with leather and the woody aroma of the whiskey he was nursing just a few moments away was intoxicating. The way it wrapped around your form like a blanket made your knees weak and your head spin with need.

His lips fell to your ear, his tongue licking a wet strip along the curve forcing shivers to spill over your spine.

His breath fanned over your neck as he huskily groaned out his next words, “be a good pup and hold still.”

Leonardo

“Leonardo?” You questioned, confusion lacing the waves of your voice.

You had been in this closet all of three minutes and not once had Leonardo said a thing. The only response you received from the polymath was light snoring.

Your eyes widened slightly as your lips parted from your jaw slackening in shock.

How the hell is he sleeping standing up, you thought.

Reaching out a hand to feel his warm chest; his slow breathing pushed your hand out slightly with each intake of breath. Sliding your fingers along his breast you couldn’t help but huff at how broad he was. It felt as if it took forever to finally reach his shoulder to shake him, albeit- you admit- probably a little too roughly, “Leo wake up,” you try again.

Since it was dark in the cramped closet there was no way you would have been able to see, that in fact, Leonardo’s eyes were cracked open, lazy smirk tugging at his lips.

Leonardo shot out an arm to wrap itself around your waist, simultaneously pulling you flush against his body and suffocating you with his addictively sweet scent.

“Quiet now Cara Mia,” he chuckled lowly sending a shiver down your spine at his warm lips tickling your ear.

No matter how much you didn’t want to leave his embrace you struggled against his hold, growling, “don’t you dare-,” the pureblood interrupted you by planting a kiss to the skin of your neck.

“Close your eyes little one,” he whispered reaching up to stroke your hair as your face burned and lips refused to move.

Soon enough his light snores once more shifted through the dark air.

Le Comte

“Ma cherie, you look ravishing tonight.”

His voice snaps you out of your anxious trace

The small utilities closest you both were crammed into was small and dark. Each breath you took forced your chests to brush gently against each other.

Le Comte’s long leg was trapped in between both of yours causing you to practically sit on his knee.

“Thank you Comte, you look very handsome yourself.” My god, you thought, could this be anymore awkward?

The rustle of clothing penetrated your ear drums as you felt his warm fingers ghost over your cheek, lips, and chin to trace the slight jutted bone of your collar, only for his digits to soon grasp your own. Bringing your hand to his lips Comte planted a gentle kiss against your knuckles.

“Relax my dear, I can hear your heart pounding,” he paused after hearing you intake a deep breath. The pureblood leaned foward, his arms wrapping around your waist, hot breath fanning over your neck, his fangs shadowing the curve of your ear, “besides, we have five minutes left- you can decide how they shall progress.”

Arthur

“By Jove you’re a cheeky little minx,” Arthur’s gasps peppered your ear as the clicking of his belt buckle sounded through the air.

The closest was dark and cramped, but your hands still worked diligently to free his throbbing erection, his own fingers working at the buttons of your shirt. You had wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face and so far you had been successful.

“Stop talking and kiss me.”

Arthur didn’t waste anytime fulfilling your request; the moans sliding passed your lips being swallowed by his own.

A guttural groan slipped from Arthur as you shifted your wrist gripping his manhood. His warm, soft lips pecked at the skin of your neck; his wet, pink tongue darting out to taste the sweat on your flesh.

“We have two minutes luv,” choked out the writer as your other hand slid up his heaving chest to squeeze lightly at his neck.

“Well then, we better make them last.”

Let’s just say when you two came out of the closet, the room, originally filled with people, was clear of any other beings.

Napoleon

“Napoleon?”

“Yes nununche?”

“You’re grabbing my butt.”

His hum rumbled deep in his chest, “my apologies, it was an accident.”

“Napoleon, you’re still grabbing my butt.”

“And it’s still an accident.”

Napoleon nonchalant words forced a laugh to tumble from your grinning lips. Tracing the hard curve of his thigh you found your way to his butt and pinched it tightly.

Napoleon took a sharp intake of breath and chuckled quietly, the closet was dark but he could still imagine the grin splitting across your face reaching ear to ear. He leaned forward, noses bumping each other in a quick kiss, and placed a hand above your head against the wall effectively trapping you in place.

Ghosting his lips across your cheek the previous emperor of France stole a small peck on your plush lips, traveling further down until his eyelashes fluttered against the bone of your jaw.

Giggling at the ticklish sensation you grabbed his hips between your digits tugging his warm body closer.

Wet noises assaulted your ears as his soft lips placed opened mouth kisses to the curve of your neck, Napoleon’s fangs circling over your skin like a teasing tango.

Your grip tightened, “- easy there nununche, don’t get too excited now,” Napoleon spoke, his heated whispers blowing through your hair.

“Well damn Leon’ I’m already there.”

Isaac

“Are you okay?”

Isaac was startled at your question. His hands were placed firmly on the wall behind his shivering form, his nails digging at the paint to gain some sort of balance.

You shifted your knee stuck between his thighs causing a choked gasp to tumble past his thinned lips.

“Don’t move-,” Isaac’s strained whisper was followed by a whimper as his grip on the wall slipped. Gravity forced his body down resulting in his clothed cock grazing against your warm leg once more.

He could practically hear your blood pumping at this proximity and it was driving him mad.

Isaac’s fangs pulsed, his throat burned, his eyes watering with embarrassed tears. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw. In his mind Isaac spoke a silent prayer to make it out of this god forsaken closet without stripping you bare and making you speak his name like a curse as he gulped down your very life essence.

“Isaac,” you paused your whispering to twist a lock of Isaac’s cherry blossom hair around your finger, enticing a wanton whimper from the flushed male, “you can drink from me. I trust you.”

Suddenly you were pinned to the wall by a heaving, trembling vampire.

“Please forgive me.” Your desperate moans followed soon after.

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