#maybe ill practice up and try again some day but who knows

[danyasblogsblog]

FIVE MONTHS SIMON RILEY

warnings : cheating, mentions of sex, lotsss of angst and yelling. implied reader is a female. toxic relationship

- simon riley is cheating on reader, over and over again, when they are just wishing for his love back.

ps. guyss if u like keegan p. russ smut read my last blog!! love u guys 💕

being simon riley’s girlfriend in the beginning was a dream come true- it was all you ever dreamed of. a strong man who matched your personality and made you feel whole. first 4 months was perfect, going out together, meeting his friends and getting close with them, the most amazing dates and sleepovers at eachother’s apartments. it was a dream come true.

but once 5 months hit, something changed in him. he was out late after work. he wasnt home after deployments on the day he was supposed to come back. he went out late on the weekends you longed to be in his arms. he was cold and distant. why?

you knew he had been cheating. gaz told you- he was rubbing up against some other girl at a party and kissing her- practically shoving his tongue down her throat. and his idiotic ass posted it on his private story. it was like he wasnt even considerate about your feelings, not even trying to hide it.

everyone told you to leave him. even simon’s closest friends told you too- you were loyal, kind and so caring. he use to be the same, but now hes cold, carless and seemed pissed everytime he saw you.

7 times. he cheated 7 times. every time he did, you could feel more of your heart cracking like porcelain. tears spilled from your eyes everytime you got a message from gaz, or soap or random girls you barely knew. ‘simon is cheating again’. you got used to be message, but the ache in your heart burned more every time it happened.

simon didnt know why he did it- you were perfect for him. you made him feel right in everyway, your personality, your appearance and your love for him was everything he ever wanted. he just had to be a jerk. someone awful towards you, even though you treated him with love.

the 8th time was different. you had been having a hard week- work was tough, and one of your friends was really ill. all you wanted every day of the week was the come home and sit in simon’s arms, but he was never there. you just got the notification ‘ill be home tomorrow’. you knew what he was doing, and he knew you knew.

this specific saturday, after months of dealing with the heartache of having your boyfriend cheat on you so often, you snapped. you came to simon’s apartment tired- your feet aching so badly. ‘simon?’ you called out, praying he would be home. you were greeted with silence- all the lights in the house off. you sighed, tears already prickling in your eyes. you checked your phone- notifications from your friends, apps, but not simon. maybe he got tied up at work? you opened your contacts and called him, listening to the phone ring.

you looked at the profile picture you had his contact saved as, your first date as boyfriend/girlfriend. an unforgettable experience. even though you two were just getting to know eachother as a couple, that day felt different. you cooked for him, and you opened up to eachother over a bowl of macaroni and cheese. he said he felt safe with you. his words from that day echoed in your head as the vibrations from your phone ringing him made your hand shake. what happened to your sweet boy?

the phone line connected, and you put it on speaker- not bothered to press it against your ear. ‘simon? hello?’

you could hear grunts in the background, your heart cracked. a female voice answered the phone. your heart shattered. ‘oh… you’re his girlfriend, right?’ the girl snickered. ‘simon, its your girlfriend!!’ you heard her talking to him down the line, making sarcastic jokes about how you were calling him when he was having fun with her. ‘give me the phone, come on.’ you heard him say, although his voice was slightly incoherent due to his distance from the phone.

you hung up the call. the world went black and white. the silence around you rung in your ears. your heart thumped against your chest, the hot tears rolling down your cheeks. you couldn’t do anything but cry.

cry because you thought it would change. cry because you thought he would change.

the phone rang, simon’s name lighting up the screen. your back slid down the wall, your hand over your chest. your breathing got thick, and your nose filled with snot. more tears poked out of your eyes, and your eardrums felt like they were going to explode. god- you were such a dumbass. sitting around, thinking he’d stop his shit.

your hands covered your face, trying to hide your tears from the world around you. you couldnt do this. not for a 9th time. a 10th time. 11th. 12th. it was the worst. you had never felt worse.

he was the worst.

you just wished simon was with you, letting you cry in his arms. you thought, if you loved him enough he would stop. he’s not stopped. you wanted to stop loving him- but you knew you couldnt. god, simon, please stop it. stopitstopitstopitstopit.

you heard the front door unlock, and you remembered you were still in simon’s house. he ran over to you, his eyes full of concern. you looked up at him, apologies running out his mouth. he kneeled down to you, trying to get you to talk to him. ‘please talk to me, y/n. please, please im so sorry lovie m so sorry’ simon’s usually gruff voice was filled with concern. ‘talk to me darlin’ please im sorry’.

your tears of sadness became tears of anger. you tried so hard. you tried to be the best for him. you tried so hard. but he didnt care. he went out, and cheated. he went out, fucking other girls for 5 minutes of pleasure while you were at home, cooking for him. caring for him.

you stared up into his dark eyes that were filled with sorrow and regret. you stood up, backing away from him. ‘where are you going? y/n? talk to me, please.’ he followed you around his apartment as you took your purse and coat, looking around for your wallet and keys aswell. ‘y/n, please. im sorry. im so sorry lovie give me another chance.’ you stopped. ‘give you another chance?’ you said, staring at him with disbelief.

‘i gave you so many chances. you knew i knew. everyone told me to leave you, everyone told me about what was happening. but i thought you would change. i thought you would go back to how you used to be. i miss you, simon and i love you so much but why. why- how could you do this to me..’

tears uncontrollably fell from your eyes, and your knees felt as if they were giving out. you walked away from him, frantically looking for your keys and wallet. you needed to get out of here. away from him. he grabbed your wrist and turned you around the look at him.

‘i can’t convince you that im not a dickhead, baby but please. please im sorry- i cant explain it but i just-’

‘why don’t you love me anymore?’ you yelled, your anger practically radiating off as heat. (in the most love quinn style way btw, youre my bff if you understand)

‘why did you cheat on me? why did you ruin us, simon? you treat me as if i dont have feelings.’ ‘it was just a bit of fun, please lovie. i cant loose you, darlin’

you saw your keys and wallet on an end table. simon went around, following you with his half-assed apologies. you snatched the necessities up, and the feeling of finding them was a true relief. you turned and glared at simon, stopping his babbling- something you werent even listening too anymore.

‘we’re over.’

[mangotelevision]

minecraft diaries season two cats

[moveslikekeithrichards]

my latest project [which i started years ago & am now getting back to] is writing out dreams ive had as [very] short stories, which is good for me bc i kinda lack the imagination to create a compelling plot on my own & the stamina to write anything longer, but it also means i have to Remember Dreams

[inkskinned]

so one of the things that's so horrifying about birth control is that you have to, like, navigate this incredibly personal choice about your body and yet also face the epitome of misogyny. like, someone in the comments will say it wasn't that bad for me, and you'll be utterly silenced. like, everyone treats birth control like something that's super dirty. like, you have no fucking information or control over this thing because certain powerful people find it icky.

first it was the oral contraceptives. you went on those young, mostly for reasons unrelated to birth control - even your dermatologist suggested them to control your acne. the list of side effects was longer than your arm, and you just stared at it, horrified.

it made you so mentally ill, but you just heard that this was adulthood. that, yes, there are of course side effects, what did you expect. one day you looked up yasmin makes me depressed because surely this was far too intense, and you discovered that over 12,000 lawsuits had been successfully filed against the brand. it remains commonly prescribed on the open market. you switched brands a few times before oral contraceptives stopped being in any way effective. your doctor just, like, shrugged and said you could try a different brand again.

and the thing is that you're a feminist. you know from your own experience that birth control can be lifesaving, and that even when used for birth control - it is necessary healthcare. you have seen it save so many people from such bad situations, yourself included. it is critical that any person has access to birth control, and you would never suggest that we just get rid of all of it.

you were a little skeeved out by the implant (heard too many bad stories about it) and figured - okay, iud. it was some of the worst pain you've ever fucking experienced, and you did it with a small number of tylenol in your system (3), like you were getting your bikini line waxed instead of something practically sewn into your body.

and what's wild is that because sometimes it isn't a painful insertion process, it is vanishingly rare to find a doctor that will actually numb the area. while your doctor was talking to you about which brand to choose, you were thinking about the other ways you've been injured in your life. you thought about how you had a suspicious mole frozen off - something so small and easy - and how they'd numbed a huge area. you thought about when you broke your wrist and didn't actually notice, because you'd thought it was a sprain.

your understanding of pain is that how the human body responds to injury doesn't always relate to the actual pain tolerance of the person - it's more about how lucky that person is physically. maybe they broke it in a perfect way. maybe they happened to get hurt in a place without a lot of nerve endings. some people can handle a broken femur but crumble under a sore tooth. there's no true way to predict how "much" something actually hurts.

in no other situation would it be appropriate for doctors to ignore pain. just because someone can break their wrist and not feel it doesn't mean no one should receive pain meds for a broken wrist. it just means that particular person was lucky about it. it should not define treatment.

in the comments of videos about IUDs, literally thousands of people report agony. blinding, nauseating, soul-crushing agony. they say things like i had 2 kids and this was the worst thing i ever experienced or i literally have a tattoo on my ribs and it felt like a tickle. this thing almost killed me or would rather run into traffic than ever feel that again.

so it's either true that every single person who reports severe pain is exaggerating. or it's true that it's far more likely you will experience pain, rather than "just a pinch." and yet - there's nothing fucking been done about it. it kind of feels like a shrug is layered on top of everything - since technically it's elective, isn't it kind of your fault for agreeing to select it? stop being fearmongering. stop being defensive.

you fucking needed yours. you are almost weirdly protective of it. yours was so important for your physical and mental health. it helped you off hormonal birth control and even started helping some of your symptoms. it still fucking hurt for no fucking reason.

once while recovering from surgery, they offered you like 15 days of vicodin. you only took 2 of them. you've been offered oxy for tonsillitis. you turned down opioids while recovering from your wisdom tooth extraction. everything else has the option. you fucking drove yourself home after it, shocked and quietly weeping, feeling like something very bad had just happened. the nurse that held your hand during the experience looked down at you, tears in her eyes, and said - i know. this is cruelty in action.

and it's fucked up because the conversation is never just "hey, so the way we are doing this is fucking barbaric and doctors should be required to offer serious pain meds" - it's usually something around the lines of "well, it didn't kill you, did it?"

you just found out that removing that little bitch will hurt just as bad. a little pinch like how oral contraceptives have "some" serious symptoms. like your life and pain are expendable or not really important. like maybe we are all hysterical about it?

hysteria comes from the latin word for uterus, which is great!

you stand here at a crossroads. like - this thing is so important. did they really have to make it so fucking dangerous. and why is it that if you make a complaint, you're told - i didn't even want you to have this in the first place. we're told be careful what you wish for. we're told that it's our fault for wanting something so illict; we could simply choose not to need medication. that maybe if we don't like the scraps, we should get ready to starve.

we have been saying for so long - "i'm not asking you to remove the option, i'm asking you to reconsider the risk." this entire time we hear: well, this is what you wanted, isn't it?

[beenbaanbuun]

guard dog w/ jeong yunho

pt2

you live in a shitty apartment in a shitty neighbourhood surrounded by shitty neighbours who seem to make it their life’s work to make your life a living hell

the guy that lives across from you is an aspiring dj, emphasis on aspiring

unfortunately with him working the late shift at his supermarket job, it means he likes to practice late into the night

after the first 5 noice complaints, you just gave up trying to get a decent night sleep; part of you thinks he carried on just as one giant ‘fuck you’

the family that live upstairs aren’t great either

the son—timmy? tommy? who cares—thinks it’s fun to sit on the stairs with his buddies and smoke anything they can get their hands on

your air freshener is the only thing keeping you from losing your mind at them! well, that and the fact that quite frankly him and his friends terrify you

they watch you carefully as you make your way down the stairs, pushing through their congregation with a tight lipped, overly polite smile on your face

usually they don’t say a word, giving you little more acknowledgment than a hum as you thank them for barely making enough room for you to push through them

they make you nervous, you can’t deny that, and half of you thinks that’s the whole point

it’s like it’s some sort of strange power play to keep you from complaining to his parents, or worse, the landlord

not exactly a threat, but not not one

maybe it’s those nerves that made you open up to your friend one day

you’d met up with him at a local cafe, offering to pay for his coffee if he gave you half of the sandwich he’d brought with him

“they just spook me a little, y’know?” you mumble as a few crumbs topple over your bottom lip and onto your chin, “it’s a group of 10 over-grown teenage boys; it’s fucking intimidating!”

mingi just nods along, a small frown on his face as he listens to you complain about your living conditions for what seems like the millionth time

he gets it; moving is expensive, especially in the city, and you need to stay relatively close to where you work since you don’t have a car

it doesn’t mean he has to like it, though

“what about a guar—”

“a guard dog?” you cut him off, “mingi, we’ve had this conversation so many times before!”

it’s the truth; it seems like every single time you see him he brings up the same suggestion; scary dog privileges can get you very far in life according to you friend

“too mentally ill to look after another life, sure,” he reiterates the same point you make every single time, “but what about a hybrid?”

again, it feels like you’re in a constant loop of deja vu, destined to relive this conversation over and over again until you can finally afford to move out of that shit hole

“i can’t aff—”

“—afford a hybrid, yeah i know,” you roll your eyes as he finishes your sentence; jesus, he’s annoying, “but what if i told you i knew a guy?”

it sounds suspicious, but you won’t lie and say you’re not a little curious

perhaps you’re just a little too nosy to not lean in a little closer with a brow cocked a question of ‘who?’ primed on your tongue

“can’t say,” is all mingi says, “he doesn’t like people poking around in his business.”

he says it so nonchalantly as if he’s not your best friend who’s just announced that he knows someone who is almost definitely into some dodgy shit

you’d be a bad friend if you didn’t ask at least a few questions, but before you can even open your mouth, mingi beats you to it

“£200 will get you a hybrid though,” you almost choke on the sandwich at the price; this is some seriously dodgy guy if he’s selling hybrids for that little, “£300 if you start laying down preferences.”

“mingi,” you begin, about to beg him to get out of whatever business he’s getting himself involved in

“i’m assuming it’s a no?” he raises an eyebrow; you don’t even have to nod for him to understand your answer

he concedes, throwing his hands up in surrender like he always does whenever you have this conversation

still, the smirk on his face as the conversation moves onto something else doesn’t fill you with the upmost confidence

a week passes by rather quickly; you work, you come home, you go about your evenings as normal, you sleep

nothing seems any different, and why would it? nothing about your life ever really changes without some sort of built up or expectation

and then your doorbell rings

you assume it’s just your neighbour again, around at yours to ask you some sort of stupid question that could easy be solved using a single braincell and google

you trudge to the door with a sour look on your face and a bitterness already growing on your tongue, just to swing it open to see… not your neighbour

not anyone you recognise for that matter

your gaze travels up from the chest you stand eye-to-eye with, traipsing lazily over the defined muscles on his neck before reaching his face

a jaw set in stone, two steely brown eyes and a pair of jet black dog ears are what immediately catch your attention

that and the fact that he’s very handsome; so much so that it takes everything in you not to stare at him with your mouth wide open

“are you going to let me in?” he says as if the hybrid’s arrival at your door was at all expected by you

“who are you?” is the only response you can

“your guard dog,” he replies, and just like that everything clicks into place

mingi, that bastard

“but i didn’t pay for a guard dog,” you argue, hoping that it’ll be enough to make him go back to whatever creep it is that mingi has gotten involved with

“well, someone did.”

he looks bored as he uses a hand to push you aside and steps past you into your tiny apartment, as if this is just another day for him

maybe it is; you don’t know much about hybrids, but you’ve heard enough stories to know just how many of them go through life without a permanent home

they’re tossed from pillar to post as if they’re not conscious beings with minds and lives of their own

it’s sad, the fact that they can be so easily tossed aside by so many people

it’s even sadder to find yourself relating to that feeling

you shut the door, twisting the lock with a finality that you’re not sure you understand

“what’s your name?” you ask as you turn to face him

“yunho,” he sighs

it’s a pretty name, you think to yourself

one that you wouldn’t mind saying over and over again for the… foreseeable future…

seriously, fuck song mingi

“well i’m—”

“i know your name, puppy,” your mouth snaps shut at the authority that laces itself into his words, “it’s all i’ve heard for the past few days.”

you zip your mouth shut, something in your brain warning you not to speak out of turn

something in your brain seems to forget that this is your own home; surely you can speak whenever you want to

“i wasn’t sure what to expect, but you seem to fit the bill,” dark pupils land on your body, dancing up and down your form before finally meeting your eyes, “a pretty thing like you in a town like this? i’m shocked you’re still in one piece.”

“how dare you, i—”

“where am i sleeping?” he cuts you off like your complaints are little more than the stubborn words of a child

it irritates you to no end, and yet you can’t find the words to fight back

there’s just something in his eyes that has you convinced that maybe you’re not the one in charge here

“the couch,” you point to the ratty leather thing, feeling a slight twinge of guilt that it’s the only thing you have to offer

he takes a glance at at for just a second or two before shaking his head

“no,” he replies, “you have a double bed, right?”

“a double—” your eyes go wide, “you’re not sleeping in my bed!”

“yes, i am,” he insists, condescending and annoying. you hate him already, “because i’m certainly not sleeping on that thing, puppy.”

it doesn’t go unnoticed that he’s yet to use your name, instead sticking to that godforsaken nickname

if you thought it would make a difference, you might say something about it, but the stubborn arsehole has already shown enough of himself to make you understand that it would do very little

“the floor is available,” you spit, venemously

“and yet it tempts me even less than the sofa,” he smiles sarcastically and it boils your blood, “you’re just gonna have to get used to sharing.”

he takes a few paces forward until you’re having to crane your neck to look him in the eyes

you can practically feel his breath dancing across your cheeks as he lets out a low chuckle, a darkness washing over his face as he studies you

“you’re gonna have to get used to a lot of things now that i’m here,” warmth spreads across your cheek as his palm moves to cup it, “but that’s okay puppy, i can be patient while you learn.”

[hemmingsleclerc]

Worth it┃sirius black

summary: where Sirius is completely in love with James's sister, but everytime he wants to ask her on a date somehow ends up doing something embarrassing

just sirius being a dumbass in love

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ･˳ . ⋆

Sirius Black, known for his confident attitude and big ego, became a totally different person when it came to Y/n Potter, James' twin sister. From the moment he first saw her on the Hogwarts Express, he fell in love with her. Her bright eyes, her laughter that echoed through the halls, and her loyalty to her friends captivated Sirius in a way he couldn't explain.

However, every attempt Sirius made to impress her seemed to end in humiliation. Whether it was tripping over his own feet, accidentally dropping a potion in Potions class while he was trying to show off, or simply forgetting his words when she stared at him or smiled, Sirius managed to humiliate himself over and over again and the marauders found endless fun in his failed attempts.

One particularly incident occurred during a Gryffindor Quidditch match. Sirius had been practicing tirelessly, determined to catch Y/n's eye with his skills as a Seeker and impress her (again). As he zoomed across the pitch during the game against Slytherin, he spotted Y/n cheering enthusiastically in the stands. Heart pounding with nerves, Sirius dove towards the Snitch, only to misjudge his speed and crash into a ring, sending the Snitch away to the opposite end of the field. The entire stadium bursted into laughter, including Y/n, who clapped a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle her giggles.

"Nice one, Pad! Maybe next time you'll catch something other than the ground," James joked mercilessly after the match, laughing his head off, slapping Sirius on the back.

Sirius tried to laugh, but inside he felt enormous disappointment and shame. He had wanted with all his might to impress Y/n, to show her that he was more than just a prankster or a reckless troublemaker. But every time he tried, it seemed like he only managed to make a fool of himself.

Despite his repeated failures, Sirius refused to give up, she was worth it and he wasn't going to give up so easily. He found himself casting nervous glances at Y/n during meals in the Great Hall, trying to work up the courage to approach her. However, every time he decided to talk to her, his tongue would get stuck and his palms would sweat. Even simple greetings turned into awkward exchanges in which Sirius would end up stumbling over his words or making some ill-timed joke that fell flat.

One rainy afternoon, Sirius was sitting in his dorm with his friends. Peter and Remus were playing a game of wizard chess nearby while James lay on his bed playing with his snitch, occasionally casting sympathetic glances in Sirius' direction.

"You know, mate," Remus began tentatively, moving a knight on the board, "maybe you should just ask her out straightforwardly. None of this grand gesture stuff. Just be yourself."

Sirius sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I've tried, Moony. Every time I try to talk to her, I end up making a complete fool of myself. She probably thinks I'm an idiot by this point."

James chuckled "Nah, she doesn't think you're an idiot. Just a bit… charmingly clumsy as she told me."

Sirius rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help but smile at his friends' attempts to cheer him up. Deep down, he knew they were right. Maybe he had been going about it all wrong. Perhaps what Y/n needed was not grand gestures or witty banter, but simply honesty.

The next day, Sirius was walking through the black lake, letting his feet walk without any direction, however he realized that he was precisely addressing Y/n who was reading a book in front of the lake. His heart raced as he made his way over, his friends watching with anticipation from a distance.

"Here goes nothing," Sirius muttered under his breath, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves.

As he approached Y/n, she looked up and smiled warmly at him. Sirius felt his legs weak.

''Hey Y/n''

''Hey sirius, what's up?''

''everythings fine, um I wanted to ask you something''

Sirius felt his throat dry and his mind went blank.

''Are you okey sirius? you seem a bit...pale'' Y/n asked doubtfully, standing up and getting closer to Sirius.

''No! I'm good don't worry!'' Sirius was actually planning on pretending to faint, or running away.

''Okey?..Well anyways I also wanted to ask you something''

Sirius was about to open his mouth to let the words out but Y/n interrupted him.

''I was wondering if you'd like to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?" Y/n said smiling ear to ear

Time seemed to stand still for Sirius. His eyes widened in shock, his mouth hanging open. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Did she just ask him out before he could ask her?

Taken by surprise, Sirius took a step back, his heart racing even more. To his surprise, he tripped on a tree root and fell to the ground with a thud.

Laughter erupted in the distance, echoing through the garden. James, Remus and Peter had been responsible for these as they were almost crying of laughter, unable to contain their amusement at Sirius's latest fall.

Sirius lay on the ground for a moment, his face burning with shame. He stood up as quickly as he could, trying to maintain some semblance of composure and dignity.

Y/n rushed over to him, concern mixing with her laughter. "Oh my god!, are you okay?"

Sirius nodded, his cheeks still flushed. "Y-yeah, I'm fine. Just… just caught me by surprise, that's all."

Y/n chuckled softly, offering him a hand up. "Sorry about that. I couldn't resist."

Despite the embarrassment, Sirius couldn't help but grin. "No need to apologize. I… I'd love to go to Hogsmeade with you."

Y/n smiled wildly, relief evident in her eyes. "Great! It's a date then."

Sirius felt a wave of relief and excitement. He had managed to get through another embarrassing moment, but this time he had turned out better than he could have imagined.

As they separated, the rest of the marauders approached him, still laughing at him. James patted him on the back, shaking his head in amusement and hugging him by the side and Sirius couldn't help but do a little victory dance.

Despite all his fumbles and embarrassing moments, he knew one thing for certain: Y/n Potter was worth every stumble and every awkward pause.

[seventhcallisto]

Ateez 'n free use (+ somno)

Everything has been consentually talked about beforehand, in passing and seriously !! Mwuah. Lots of smut under the cut. barking. foaming at the mouth.

"Hi love bug 💗 I wanted your thoughts and opinions on ateez with somno / free use heheh" —ask @hhoneylix (my lovely pookie bear) 7.2K WC OF FILTH.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

In a free-use fantasy, partners can have sex with each other whenever they want, no holds barred. Somnophilia refers to the interest in having sex with a sleeping person.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Wooyoung. It doesn't take much convincing for him to agree, even the words would have him nodding eagerly. He doesn't even question the trust you two have cause you're both in sync like that, maybe he hands his heart out to you on a platter, despite his own head telling him he could end up with it broken (he doesn't care cause he knows he loves you to the moon and back). But if you are just as agreeing as him it'll have his heart soaring. He definitely uses you most days, happily too. He'll tease you; not letting you cum as he gets himself off. But it doesn't last for long when he's between your thighs a minute later. Over and over again and throughout the day. Teasing you so you'll find a reason to ruin him for the evening.

When you both first started, I can see his eyes flashing with everything he'll want to do or want you to do to him. When he realizes you're not saying it as a joke anymore (like you have done before), he completely folds, he's just a whole sub for the first day you guys try it out, whether a bratty one or a good one, he cries for it either way. He gets himself worked up the entire day because it caught him off guard, so whenever he thinks about anything you're doing, calling his name- specifically the nickname you use for him- god, he's throbbing. Telling him to pick up his mess that he left like some guy who can't clean up after himself with your mad tone that reminds him of how you fuck him up when he's being a brat. He'll most likely hide away during practice to try and jerk off (knowing him, he probably also sent you an audio message of it to see if you'll be the first to cave and just brutally use him) but it's just not working :( he gets so frustrated, on the edge of being mean because he's so horny. He snaps his tone, and his attitude sours into something whiny and needy.

He gets borderline bratty when he's so horny. So, at some point, when you're doing your skincare, he pushes at your lower back to bend you over the counter just the slightest, his hands sliding to your hips when he comes to grind his erection against you, a shuddered sigh falling from his lips. His head falls over your shoulder blade. "need this, please, 'm gonna make you feel good too, just want to be inside so bad" he'd mumble as he wiggled your pants down, giving you the opportunity to stop if you'd like. He wouldn't waste a second to jerk his dick out of his own pants and line up to your core. He notices you're also wet, so you've probably thought about this as much as he has all day. You truly don't know how much that drives him crazy. And knowing that you're always ready for him has him driving his cock all the way in you.

Only stilling for you to adjust to his stinging size. But he doesn't sit there for long because he's trembling with his hands placed on either side of you, his hips grinding your ass forward cause of his pelvis. It really doesn't take long for him to cum, especially if you're telling him how needy he is. How he can't even wait til you're done to fuck. "n-no, don't move, please- ill be quick- let me cum-" He whimpers and agrees with everything you say. "You're right- you're always right- fuck I'm addicted to you- I'm your whore- oh god-" lost in the way you feel around him as he drives his hips all the way to meet yours in sloppy liquidy slaps. His hands grip the counter around your stomach tightly, his fingers turning white from the grip, caging you against it. His eyes clenched close every so often, strangled gasps choked from his throat. He paints your walls with his cum, slumping over your back and shaking ever so lightly in the afterglow. You don't get to cum because he already did before you. He verbalized that when he tried to rub circles over your neglected nerve bundle. You swipe his hand away, going on to wash your own and continue your skincare, even with him still inside. He loudly whimpers, knowing he's in for a long night for every rule he's broken today. :((( he's sorry!(no he's not)

When you brutally and completely obliterate him later, tied to the bed and shaking after every edge or orgasm he has. You finish him with an unhealthy amount of kisses to his face and aftercare that has him cuddled up on your stomach, his face digging into your side. He falls asleep like that. It's really no for long when he wakes up, jolted from a pleasant and not very wholesome dream. Your hand is already stroking him over his shorts, cupping and pushing against his hard on that's imprinted and leaning against your hip from where he's halfway thrown over you. “Are you awake now? So needy woo, even when you're asleep, trying to hump me like a pillow” he whimpers when you laugh at him, pushing his thighs apart for more friction and shoving his face back into your chest. “Come on baby, you want to cum again? So early?” your hand stops for just a second, enough for his teary and tired eyes to blink up at you. Your hand slipping past his waistband and jerking his sticky tip. He's loud and definitely more affected like this. Choking on a sob when your nails scrape against his length and veins. He cums with a guttural choking gasp, jerking forward to stimulate himself the rest of the way with your palm. Staining his shorts with semen. He's definitely fucking you when he wakes up later. Even if you're still in deep sleep. Two can play that game.

Mingi. Oh. Oh! It takes a good hard minute for it to click. He loves it, though. Of course, he trusts you (a little too much), and he'll shyly ask if you trust him as much too (and you do!). It also doesn't take much convincing for him. He gets so turned on from the idea. Just imagining being able to get off whenever you're around. You might actually be fucking more often because of it. Like, every day. His libido is crazy. But what drives his will is the idea of being buried balls deep in you. And with somno??? Oh lord.

You're asleep when he comes home from practice, and he just really wanted you. Even when he tried to wake you up with a gentle pat to your shoulder, you don't even greet him. Turning over away from him. He knows you're not ignoring him on purpose, too tired to respond to the outside world in your head. He didn't think about using you in your sleep until he was choking on a cup of cold water. Remembering the conversation you had on the phone earlier. “Yknow mingi, if I'm ever asleep when you get home, I don't mind”.

He's slipping himself between your legs on the bed, carefully. Of course, he notices when the only thing you're wearing is his shirt and underwear. Watching you sleep on your stomach with a pillow propped under your chest comfortably and your arm shoved under the pillow where your head lays. Missing the way his body would be next to yours even in your unconscious state. He'd coo internally, pushing your thigh up so it's leaning up on the bed some more, your core and ass sticking out from the angle through the tight fabric of your underwear. He'd slip his fingers into you, pushing the thin fabric aside, working you open with quick and gentle scissoring motions. He'd praise you with his own tiny breaths when you clenched around the digits. Watching your face scrunch up from the feeling. Your head digging into the pillow some more and pushing back against his hand that's rubbing against your cunt. He knows your cue and clumsily pulls his fingers out before you can cum, whimpering in your sleep.

“Shh, im putting it in now princess, don't worry” he'd kiss your neck, leaning over you. Ready to please with something bigger and more fulfilling. His knees placed on eitherside of your hips just as he pulls his pants down. He lines his tip, holding your panties aside so he can slip in comfortably. It's so easy when you're relaxed. So pliable around his big cock when he sinks in, his hands gripping your lower hips. And holy fuck. Mingi is definitely doing this again. His eyes cloud as you swallow him in, every inch being lubed up easily. He sets a slow pace, pushing you further up the mattress with his bigger body that cages over your own soft and completely willful one. His hips rock forward, every so often to pull all the way back until his tip is around your ring and just slide in. He groans under his breath, quiet in the night. Your own sounds are whimpered and small due to the pillow in your face. Your face scrunches, and mingi feels you stirring, moving in your sleep as you begin to wake up. “Hey sleeping beauty” he shushes, leaning over you to prop his hands on either side of your head instead, making sure he doesn’t slip out. “‘m just using you like you told me to” he would sigh into his words, stuttering every so often when he bottoms out again and again, his hips dig and prod so good, burying to the hilt and pushing his tip into your cervix. “Perfect pussy, was made for me..” he groans, fingers digging hard into the sheets. “mingi..” You finally whisper, driving his heart rate higher, he hums to answer you, thrusting his hips down quicker.

Groaning at your walls fluttering. You're cumming with a shudder, pushing your ass back against his thrusts. “mingi-” you heave, shoving your face into the pillow. With a few extra sloppy thrusts, mingi stills with himself buried to the hilt inside you. It pools deep inside you, leaving you warm and sticky and oh so full. “Taking it soooo good, just like that..” he praises, soft breaths fanning against your face. He slips himself out to lay beside you, just to lay down for a bit. Your eye peaks open, meeting his sweaty face. “Hi, I missed you,” he chuckles.

San. He's so excited and so ready for it whenever, just nodding along and mutually agreeing on the topic. He'll want to know you're fully in it, even going out of his way for consent first at the start of the day. Like, always asking for consent even if you tell him to just use you already. Trust is easy when it's always consented beforehand. He loves you a lot, wouldn't even debate with you on the subject of who loves who more. And it isn't even a question when he trusts you blindly all the time.

He wants you to initiate that first time, so when you pull him out of the room as soon as he's off stage, he knows the way your feet stomp, n the way you grip his wrist in your hands. He bows his head at everyone who passes, all of them seemingly put off by your behavior. But it doesn't matter cause san is about to get high off of you. His face in shoved into your core the minute his knees hit the floor of the bathroom, his pants creasing, he's still sweaty from performing on stage, but who gives a fuck when your leg is thrown over his shoulder. Pussy drinker !!! He swallows so hard and his tongue licks everything up, throat vibrating when he moans over your clit. You're tugging his hair and his scalp burns in the best way. You cum shortly after, and he devours it all. Pushing him into leaning against the wall so you can slot to your own knees and drop his pants, his buckle cluttering against the floor. His head gets thrown against the wall when you take him in your mouth, he palms your head but doesn't dare to grip it. The pace you set on his cock is yours to control and yours alone. He moans airily, thrusting his cock down your throat, I can see san preferring head to be messy, especially when you go down on him. So make those nasty gargling sounds and slurp him like you're thirsty. “Y-ah- you couldn't wait?” He asks through a moan, hands wrapping around to pull your hair out of your face. Ever the gentleman as he plunges his pulsing tip down your sloppy mouth. You hum around him, as if that's an answer. He cries, “oh- just like that- ugh” you hum again, he thrusts hard, cumming just as harshly. You swallow everything and more, overstimulating him when your cheeks hollow as you pull off him with a pop. He's pulling you up to sloppily make out. You stop him, finger over his lips when he chases you. “We have to get back baby, I can't be late.”

n somno? He's the one to initiate it. He's coming back to your shared hotel room after doing a live. Exhausted and just wanting to cuddle. The first thing he hears when he moves into the bed next to you is you calling his name, hand reaching around for him. “San?” You whisper. He heeds your call with a kiss on your cheek. Intertwining your wandering hand with his. “I'm here baby” You turn over your side, humming with content when you fall back to dreamland. Something about you calling him, just needing to feel his hand over you, god, it's ridiculous, but he's hard. He tries to breathe, to ward the boner away. But you look so pretty in those shorts, and your top is so silky falling off your shoulder like that.

And soon enough he's giving into his desires and working his cock with his hand that isn't in yours. Tugging himself off and hiding his noises, it's not enough, of course not, cause it's not your pussy, he's just not in it, even when he spits in his hand and uses his precum. He can't even focus, turning you over to lay flat on your back, his hand slipping from yours. You stir, just slightly, eye peaking open to look down at him over your waist, he holds himself just above you, pecking the skin where the shirt rid up on your tummy. He kisses your hip that's free of the cloth on it, trailing kisses everywhere. “Can I pretty? Can I please have you right now?” he whispers so sweetly. You nod, despite still being groggy. “let me sleep still okay?”. You don't have to tell him twice, he kisses just under the swell of your stomach, appreciatively, dipping his hands into your shorts and undies to pull them off in one go. “Just let me do it all, don't worry your pretty head about anything” Pussy drinker !!!! His face is buried inside you, grinding his cock against the white sheets, you hum and moan quietly, urging him on.

He brushes his nose against your clit and indulges himself on working you with his tongue and his fingers, praising you through breaths when you come to the edge, he lets you cum with a gaspy call of his name, encouraging your thighs to almost suffocate him when he laps up your juices. He crawls up to you with one more appreciative kiss against your clit, pushing his cock in with ease, neglected and so red :( he practically falls apart above you. Snapping his hips a couple of times to be as close to you, pushing himself to cum from all the strain he's been putting his poor cock through. He pants when he cums, your name falling off his tongue like a sinatry, all the while you hardly stir, eyebrows scrunching at the warmth of his load gathering in your cunt. You're so warm, he falls atop you with a sigh, stilling inside. You're both definitely going for a second round, cause he woke you up and now he's the sleepy one.

Seonghwa. Oh! Okay! Oh god. He loves the idea, although a little nervous at first, all mutual agreements might end up with you both already going through a list of things that is completely fine. Would want to know everything you don't like and do like beforehand. He's so happy to know you trust him, although it took a hard time for him to open up to you, he's completely and wholeheartedly in it as soon as he knows, communication is the first thing with him and then trust. It's very sweet for a while until you guys actually get to doing it.

Uhm, I also see him as a pussy drinker, sorry not sorry. He wants to be buried in you all the time. But it isn't until you're propped up on the couch, the tv playing in the distance, he's been needy for affection lately and maybe you haven't noticed it as much, he shifts against your hip, head leaning over your shoulder, watching your eyes slump close and flutter from his breath on your cheek. For a second you think he's getting up when he slips down the couch, but the next he's throwing your legs over his shoulder and tossing your pants. When did that happen? “Go on love, keep sleeping, don't mind me” you do mind. A lot. He kisses your inner thigh. Even as he pushes his hair behind his ears softly and sticks his tongue out to lick along your entirety. You buck as he swirls your little bud, sucking on it. His eyes are closed in bliss, hands gripping your thighs so tightly.

He eats you out like a man enjoying a five course meal, knowing every sweet spot that has you seeing stars, even without his fingers you cum with his name on your lips, but he keeps going, nosing your thigh before he's diving back in. He has you there in mere minutes again, you can't even focus on the dream you were just in. I can see seonghwa with his head buried in your thighs for hours with a few breaks in between that has you thinking he's done(he is not) trying out every little thing he thinks of, how quickly he can get you there and how easily you come undone if he just puts even his fingertips in. He teases you with his words and edges you on. Every so often if you're just doing something casual, he'll stick his hands down your pants and make you cum on his fingers. “That was a good one love, you sounded so pretty” you hate him. But it's no different when you straddle his waist when he's laying on the bed, his own phone in his hands.

He greets you gently, it's really innocent at first cause you're touchy and seonghwa loves it when you're touchy. When he notices your hips are wiggling back and forth over his lap, he places his phone to the side to watch you, you're just,,, just there. Hovering above him, he can feel the heat of your body over his own, your head on his chest as you pretend to relax with him. He knows what you're doing, and he lets you, his cock stirring in his silky pants at the thought of being inside you. Your finger scraps against the hem of his pants, he moans quietly. You pull him out of his slacks and pump him the rest of the way to make him fully erect, his hand lulled to the side as his phone continues to play the video he was once watching. You pump him slowly, watching his tip pebble with sticky white drops. He watches you come up to hover your hips above him, lifting your oversized shirt to the side. It's then he realizes you're not in anything other than the shirt. His lip perked up into a smirk, it's quickly wiped away when you sink down on him. His mouth falling agape. Screw his phone, it's already gone, across the bed. His hands guide your hips in lazy swirls, pretty moans falling from his mouth. His eyebrows furrow and he's just so pretty as you lifts your hips and drill them down on him, cutting off his moans every time you do so. His fingertips dig into your waist, pleading for you to keep going and helping you out when you slow down. Taking it at your own pace until he swings you forward and thrusts up into you.

It's you using him, but he needs to be buried to the hilt the entire time. “Keep going- mm” His cock throbbing against your insides and hitting so deep cause he's so long. He can get loud but it's mostly breathy moans. When he cums- and it's inevitable- he's crying from the overstimulation of you continuing to hug his cock in your cunt. He watches you swirl your hips forward to chase your own orgasm, pleading for you. “S’too much please please- cum on my cock- need it so bad” Not to stop, but to get there with him as he sputters with tears down his cheeks from how good he feels. You cum quietly, falling over his chest and leaving yourself buried in his neck, he whimpers. Your hips continuing to swirl. He grips them, stopping them so he can get some relief. When he's softening inside you, he kisses your head gently. Picking up his phone to continue scrolling.

Hongjoong. Again! He loves the idea. It doesn't take any convincing. He might be the one to bring it up first. It'll start off with free use and gradually get to talking about the somno part. He'll tell you he wants to know your thoughts before he voices his own, just so he isn't pressuring you into it. He buzzes with excitement and also just so much love. He's always wanted you both to feel comfortable enough to get to this part of your relationship. And when it finally comes up, he just uses and abuses it after the initial agreement. God. He loves knowing you trust him to do it to you whenever, and he vocally tells you he loves the idea of you using him when you feel like it. Despite being shy with how he says it. It doesn't take much time for him to fall completely for you and trust you with his entire being.

I see him using you all the time. Whenever he can get his sneaky fingers around your hips and dig his boner into you. Casually talking about his day when you're standing at the kitchen counter, well- he's already pulling your dress up and slotting your underwear down in a swoop. His nimble fingers slotting into you quickly. “What was that? Go on angel” he'll want you to talk through it, telling him about your day through whimpers and stuttering. “n then she- oh god joong just like that-” you’d end up a mess, and he hums, encouraging your words. Pulls out just as you're about to cum. And then he kisses your cheek and pulls your underwear back up. he's the worse. Ugh. You'll have to be the first to fuck him up. He's talking as he drives, a quiet tone to his voice in the peace and quiet, completely oblivious to the heat in your eyes. He stares at the road and practically jumps when you lean over into his lap, his hand goes to hold your head, on instinct.

“Bab-” you're pulling his zipper down. oh! Oh!!! OHOHO. He quirks in your grasp, cock springing to life the quicker you jerk him off. When you spit on his length that's when he moans lowly, you slap his thigh. And he jolts. “Pay attention to the road.” Fuck him up!!! Despite reaching that edge with only a few short tugs and your painted lips swirling over his tip lightly, he doesn't cum at all cause you're already at the destined location. He hates it, he drove as slow as he could and yet he still didn't cum in your pretty mouth :( Grumbled whines under his breath as he shoves himself back into his jeans. The fabric hurts. And you're smirking at him like the devil. You're playing a dangerous game. And when he gets you alone in a house full of people you know, he's got you crying, pretty mascara running down your face and throating his length until your nose brushes against him.

“hngh- You did this to yourself angel” He clicks his tongue, head thrown back against the door. It's lewd and it's definitely free use for him when he uses your head to jerk himself off on your tongue. He takes a good solid time getting there, shoving his load down your throat and pulling out enough to watch the rest spurt over your lips. Swipes it off with his thumb and puts it back in your mouth. “suck,” if by chance he's sleeping or resting, which is rare. You won't be the one to do it to him often, on the other hand he'll want you to. But he definitely won't make you. So one day when you've had it rough, just tug his sweats down with his back resting against the bed, a soft edge to his face when he sleeps. pillow slotted under his grasp and head thrown to the side. Oops, he's already hard. Morning wood. Or was he just having a nice dream? You're already on him in seconds, bottoming him inside til your pelvis meets his. His eyebrows furrow and his breathing picks up. Gasps falling out of his parted mouth, his hands twitch every so often when you call his name quietly. As if he can hear you in his dreams. Your name is the only thing he says every so often, jumbled and under his breath when he moans prettily.

Whenever he twitches too much inside you, and his face scrunches you stop so he can't cum just yet. He'll whimper and whine, throwing his head back and around. His hand comes to rub his face and then fall back to his side, right next to your knees. You swirl your hips against and practically write your name on his dick. He'll stir the second time you edge him, waking him up to one of the best sights. “Ah. m- fuck- cumming” he whimpers, pistoning his hips up to meet yours, he continues to do so even when he cums, load splattering against the sheets when it pools out of you, he tells you to keep going, encourages it too. Sloppy the whole time, overstimulating himself so he's hard again, throbbing and moaning loudly, his cheat shuddering with every breath he takes. When you cum he's pulling you down to shove his tongue down your throat, catching every sound and vocal cue with his fingers rubbing against your clit. He overstimulates you in the process too.

Yunho. Might genuinely take a couple of times to talk about it more than once. He just wants to know you're the one completely fine with it. (cause he is!) He'll work his way up to it, sleepy sex and telling you he'll handle it the whole time. And when he feels the need to be buried in you, he'll always ask beforehand, tell him he doesn't even need to ask, cause he always will. He trusts you with his heart, so of course, he trusts you completely when it comes to sex. You both are completely in tune.

It's mostly casual when it happens. It usually starts because you're in a position he likes, letting his imagination go on for a bit, you're on your tummy on the couch, feet kicking behind you and typing away at your phone. He could feel like a perv for the way he's looking at you, oblivious to his growing hard-on. But he can't help it when he crawls over you to lay on your back, his dick pressing into you through his sweats. You go to question him. He smiles shyly. “Nothing baby, just want to be close to you” yeah uh huh sure bud. It's fine for a couple of seconds until his hips move, and he's sighing in your ear. You just let him get himself off, typing away. Ignorant to the way it's just not working for him, he slips your shorts down, and you only slightly help with lifting your hips. He'll immediately go at it, kissing your shoulder and neck, appreciation on his tongue when he tells you he'll be quick. He slips himself out and bottoms inside with ease. The stretch is perfect.

Yunho has a big cock but you take it like a champ, he always has you prepped for him too. It's just so easy to slip into you. His hand snakes under your waist to pinch your clit, you jolt away from the sensation, dropping your phone. It slides too far from your reach. It's not long of yunho's soft pace before you moan at him to go faster. Through a gaspy groan he laughs, his large palm holding him up on the arm of the couch and the other spreading your thigh farther open for him to watch you suck him inside. His pace quickens, it's enough for you to feel satisfied, throwing your hips back to meet him. The slapping noises are lewd, consuming the entire living room with just you two. Yunho is just big in general, so the tiny couch(that needs to be replaced) hardly holds his size. He's using his foot to push himself harder into you, his knee bending the couch harshly. Soft grunts and heavy pants coming from his chest, it reverbs off your back, although he's leaning over you he's still close.

His other hand circling your clit and swirling the bundle. You cum with a guttural whimper, his name quiet on your tongue. “gonna fill you up real good baby,” he smirks through his words. “You're gonna keep it in, yeah?” You nod your head, whining from the sensitivity. Yunho cums with your name chanting off his lips, hips stuttering above you. If you do use him while he's sleeping he's more likely to move with you, meeting your hips as he ruts in his sleep. Eyebrows pulled taunt and mouth agape. He lets out the prettiest groans. He cums with one final loud moan, fisting the sheets, and completely and wholeheartedly falls back into sleep. It's like he didn't wake up at all, and he didn't! Make sure you clean him up tho. Carefully. I see him using you more than you using him, only on occasion though. When he's sleepy and just wants to feel you around his cock. So hard he can't take the strain anymore, he throws your thighs over his lap, already pantsless both of you. Your sleepy body leaning into his warmth.

He kisses your calve, propping both of your legs over his shoulder before he's sliding in. He's already prepped you with his fingers. He's a bit more quiet then, focus on just having his way with you(because you let him) but also to see you unravel with him with no filter or anything blocking you from letting it all show on your face? He really likes it, like. Really. Likes it. His sloppy hips are more likely to make you wake up, or the stretch in your legs as you're bent over him, sandwiched between him and the bed, his thumb drawing figure eights on your clit to reach you there faster. Your whine is scratchy, signaling you're close. He'll coax you with words even if you can't hear him “go on baby, cream around me” He groans right in your ear when you tip, hands reaching out to hold him close because you've suddenly woken up to your legs shaking and an orgasm wracking your body. Yunho often cums with you and this time is no different, he's stilling with his chest shaking from his breathing. Curling his hips forward so he's all the way in. Keeping you full with his essence.

Yeosang. It takes sooo many words of affirmation for him to even think about it. He's just a bit too scared of the idea of you not being in the mood or enjoying it. He puts your pleasure before his all the time and when you tell him to just use you to his heart's content he just really can't :((( baby just wants you to be in it as much as he is. He wants to know his pretty baby is feeling as good as he is, and eventually, he'll tell you that himself when you bring it up again. You're free to use him whenever !!! He'll always be prepared and ready for you. He gets turned on by you, even mentioning you want him in that way. (He loves being the one you want even if the situation isn't sexual), so when you tell him to imagine, you're always wanting him (and you do). His thoughts on it will shift.

Once again, he doesn't act it out much when it comes to free use. On the other hand, I could see him turning over in his sleep, waking up from a sweaty dream. He can't get the thoughts of dream-you out of his head, so he does what you've recommended you both do before, kissing your shoulder to see if you'll wake. You don't, and so he goes on, trailing them down your collar before he's at the hem of your shirt. He's slipping himself under it. Sucks on your boobs while he jerks himself off :( I don't really see yeosang using your cunt as you sleep; he prefers to see his pretty baby up close to see your eyes flutter. But maybe on a special occasion if he really really REALLY wants you, he'll push you to your side so your back is pressed against his chest, pulling your shorts and undies down enough to push his cockhead in. He sighs so prettily and makes sure you don't show any discomfort from the stretch, his pace is slow and sleepy, just trying to get there from a few thrusts in your warm and wet hole.

He'll use his fingers to rub soothing circles around your clit. Paying special attention to the way your body reacts cause you can't really use your words. When it comes to sex like this he's quiet. Not very vocal cause he's so focused on driving his hips in and out of you. His length soothing in its pace against your cervix. Your eyes flutter when you feel the heat of needing to cum, waking up in the movement of yeosangs thighs against your ass. “Yeo-” you cry quietly, cumming tightly, the fluttering around his length has him airily groaning, your hand reaching to hold his that's kept on your waist to hold you close. He hums, broken and short and breathy. Before he's speeding up his messy pace and cumming inside. He stills and doesn't bother moving for a good minute, even as you turn your head to pepper kisses on his temple, his face shoved into your neck. Genuinely could see him almost falling asleep like that, buried inside you and completely comfortable. But as soon as he feels you wiggling he'll get to cleaning up. Also the type to just let you use him whenever you want too, he'll gladly just sit back and let you.

He'll be on the couch with his phone in hand, probably in one of the many dressing rooms waiting for the rest of the guys to get back. You drop to your knees in front of him and he immediately fumbles, eyes dashing to the door. “I locked it, don't worry” you pull the zipper of his brand new pants down, the leather straining against his thighs. His cock throbbing in your tight grasp, pumping him to stand full. He'll throw his head back against the couch and bite his lip to hold his moans when your mouth wraps around him. Getting him there quicker than he can proudly say, he'll whimper and hold his own hips down. Noticing every sound and how loud it seems to him. He'll hold your head, gently, following you with it against the back of it. Your pace is rough and brutal, getting him off with sticky noises and humming against his tip. He might actually start whimpering through his bruised lips.

“Sl-slow down-nng” oh my god he feels a bit bad when his hips thrust up against your throat. Eyes scrunching with pleasure, his hips don't know whether or not to pull away or to keep drilling up into you. So he's squirming on the couch, little sounds escaping here and there when you swallow around him. He warns you when he's about to cum, his hips driving away from you and digging into the couch. His hand fisting against the back of your neck shakily. Your name is the last thing he says before he's seeing stars and shooting his load on your tongue, if you swallow it up greedily he will definitely start shaking from the stimulus. “Jagi- ah.” His hand curls, your lips popping off him. He completely deflates on the couch. You'll have to do the cleaning up, be gentle though he gets really sensitive.

Jongho. It really is about trust with him. It will take a lot and so long before you guys even get to that part. Trusting you completely will be the most fragile part of it, jongho doesn't necessarily wear his heart on his sleeve so when he gets into it with you, he really has to think about it on his own for a good couple of days. So when he comes around and brings it up again, you tell him he doesn't have to agree for your sake. But he genuinely is agreeing because he loves you, and he's beginning to love the idea of being used by you when you need him. He just always wants to provide in every way possible. He'll only want to use you on the most stressful of days, though.

His cock is there for you to use and abuse to your content. He won't verbally say it (ever) but you know he finds a certain love for you using him so much. He'll be resting with his head on the couch and his body completely relaxed, drifting away in his own head. He'll immediately wake up to you leaning on his lap. He's no fun for somno, he wakes too easily especially if he feels you on his lap or anywhere near his dick. He'll paw at your hips and sigh knowingly. Eyes still closed and just the hint of a grin on his lips. “Right now?” He'll tease, his sleepy voice just ugh, and the little chuckle he does. Slide down his shorts and help him shuffle them down a bit, he'll help with pumping himself a bit so you can shuffle your own clothing off. Just slow strokes to his growing cock, he shudders when you line him up and use his tip to drag through your folds. Might even get impatient with the way his hips buck. But when you sink down his eyes are slowly opening to watch your joint area. Swirling your waist back and forth on his lap.

He's not very helpful this way; you're the one who woke him from his nap and now you should be the one to get you both off. You're cumming before he is, hips stilling and falling on his chest. He clicks his tongue, a short amount of teasing coming from his chest. His hips stutter, pushing you back down with his strength. He cums shortly after. Just buzzing with domesticity, he'll just be happy to stay like that for a while, but the liquids dripping along his body just won't do for him. You're the one cleaning up cause you initiated it ! Sorry not sorry. If it's a long day and jongho is just coming home, his body is heavy and his head pulsing with a growing headache from the amount of things memorized. You'll be the first thing on his mind, being close to you always blows off steam but he will debate on whether or not he'll want to wake you up or just go on ahead.

So he takes the easier option. Cooing at you gently when you sigh softly, he's positioned right by your butt as you're turned on your side. You’ve definitely fallen asleep from waiting on him. You'll call his name softly, propping your head up to look at him. “Shh, just relax and let me do all of it for you, turn your pretty head off for me” he kisses your lips so sweetly, just a short peck and you're already turning your head back into the pillow he brought from the bedroom, body sighing and falling back. Preps you with his hands and fingers, gently swirling them inside you and working you open for him. Encourages your orgasm when he knows you like a certain thing he does, shushing your soft moans. He always preps you to take him. He likes it better that way. So he's already strained and hard to the touch in his palm when he slips himself out of his jeans. Hissing from the harsh fabric under his breath. He'll make sure to lube himself up with his own spit beforehand so you're not lubing his length up completely by yourself.

Works the head in and gently leans over you, breathing softly above you. He'll swirl his hips to get himself all the way in, stopping to pull out and ease more of his length inside. Eyeing your comfortable state the entire time. His pace will be erratic and slow, just finding what works best for the angle and what makes you squirm around him. Once he finally finds it, he'll encourage it on, pouding into your gummy spot until you're whimpering. Hips stuttering occasionally from the way you clench around him “There you go, sweet girl, just like that” he coos, watching your body shake from the orgams ripping out of you You sigh so prettily when he drills his cock back in, holding your thigh to keep you close even as you pull from the overstimulation. His breath stuttering our of his lungs when he paints your insides. Falling the rest of the way over you. He sighs heavily. Brain shortwiring. He'll definitely be doing that again.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

UHM UHM, I... I GOT CARRIED AWAY.

Thank you to my pookie for being so patient with me ;( ily bb, here's that request you've been waiting for. And my cutie patootie @uhhheather for helping me out w jongho n yeosang. U played an important role so thank uuuuu

[psuedosugu]

I LOVED Vox's daughter head cannons. I felt so sad when she doesn't see alastor anymore. maybe alastor gives her an magical radio that is like a walkie talkie where they can talk to eachother without vox knowing

ep 5 has my brain juices flowinggg (ik that alastor most likely js said that he was like charlies dad js to piss lucifer off but part of me wants to believe 🙏🏾🙏🏾)

part one here

——— ☆ • ♧ • ♤ • ♧ • ☆ ———

☽༓☾ || you’re obviously bummed that your dad cut you off from the person who’s pretty much been your comfort person for the past few months.

☽༓☾ || vox sees this as him protecting you from danger and he won’t hear you out when you try to explain how alastor really isn’t as bad as he says he is.

☽༓☾ || you end up sneaking out again one day, since your dad is still busy as hell. you’d have to be quicker this time, though, hes been paying more attention to you since the incident happened.

☽༓☾ || you were smarter this time, making sure that you didn’t bring any electronics with you, and you didn’t go out the front door, instead opting to go out a first story window so you’d be harder to track.

☽༓☾ || you practically jumped into alastors arms when you saw him again! (which he surprisingly allowed.) you had missed him so much, and there was so much you needed to tell him.

☽༓☾ || you told him everything, how your dad had blown up on you and how he had grounded you for like eternity.

☽༓☾ || alastor really wasn’t surprised, that defined sounded like vox. he was glad you had come to visit him though, he had grown to miss having you around!

“-so yeah, he like blew up on me and grounded me, probably until im like 25.”

“sounds typical of my dear friend.”

☽༓☾ || you could practically taste the sarcasm in his voice.

“eh. ill have to go back soon though. he’ll notice im gone….i dont wanna go though. sometimes i wish you were my dad instead.

☽༓☾ || you frown, rolling your eyes.

“well, i think i have just the solution for that.”

☽༓☾ || he suddenly poofs 2 mini radios into existence. you blink at him, confused.

☽༓☾ || he says that they’re walkie talkies, and that you can talk through one and he’ll answer. you smile and hug him for the second time. (which he still allows!)

☽༓☾ || you’re glad that you can talk to him now without having to sneak out and without your dad spying on you.

☽༓☾ || alastor is just glad to talk to you more in general, he’s starting to see you like a daughter of some sorts!

——— ☆ • ♧ • ♤ • ♧ • ☆ ———

‘hells best dad’ but instead of lucifer its vox starts playing violently in the background ☠️

i do requests!

check out my masterlist!

[aureatchi]

⚕ ᡣ𐭩 . ° . AND IF THERE WAS A PLACE I HAD TO CHOOSE…IT’D BE IN YOUR ARMS TONIGHT. (bedroom session) ft. dazai, chuuya, fyodor, akutagawa, sigma

— how the bsd men treat you when you’re sick. (& more)

a/n. started writing when i was sick djsjsja. tagging my moots who were under the weather anytime this month <3 to them & anyone else unwell, feel better soon !!

info. fem!reader. fluff. established relationships. light angst & hospital in akutagawa’s. chuuya plays the guitar. you play the piano in fyodor’s. sigma’s a chef. some inspo from RED for dazai & fyodor’s (our hcs!)

DAZAI will cuddle with you anyway, even when you are buried under bundles of blankets. he still thinks you need a little more warmth…and you look just too cute wrapped up in what resembles an igloo to not nuzzle with you! however, don’t be surprised when he blames you for making him sick once you recover, as if it wasn’t his fault.

“A-choo!” Your eyes were watery, you felt too cold for your liking, and it was harder than usual to breathe through your nose. Your sneeze made you sit up in discomfort, and you hastily pulled the covers toward you.

“‘Bella? Are you alright?” Dazai sat up next, meeting your eyes as you turned your face toward him.

He noticed how flushed your cheeks were and how watery your eyes were as you frowned—no, the first thought Dazai had wasn’t Oh no! You’re sick!

“Aw, love! You look so cute!” And he tackled you back down.

“Osamu!” you shouted as he lay practically atop you, squeezing you like a teddy bear.

“‘Samu!” you repeated once more. “You’re going to suffocate me!”

“You feel so cold, though, darling!” His reply was muffled as he buried his face into your neck.

“It’s like you’re trying to get yourself sick!”

He sat the both of you back up.

“H-huh? What’d you mean? Why would anyone willingly get sick?”

“Oh, I’m not sure either!” you exclaimed. “Maybe so you can use it as an excuse to skip wor-“

You sneezed again, interrupting your statement, seeing through Dazai’s plan.

“Bless you ‘bella!” he replied, a bit too excited. “What were you saying?”

“I. Was-” you sneezed again. And then twice. And then thrice.

“Aw, my poor baby!” Dazai spoke in his infantile voice. “Looks like you’re super sick…don’t you worry your pretty head about that. I have a solution.”

“Yes, please,” you responded—as best as you could with him pinching your cheeks—thinking Dazai would finally get up and bring you medicine so you didn’t have to do it yourself. That was, in fact, a terrible assumption.

“You trust me so well you didn’t even wait for me to tell you!”

“Uh-”

He then proceeded to pepper your entire face with kisses.

“Get-well kisses! They work better than medicine, trust me. Because these ones are made from lo-ove~.”

“Osamu!” you shouted. “You’re really going to get sick!”

“Do you really think I care, pretty?” He moved his face so his nose was touching yours. “I’ll tell you a secret. I know why I’d get willingly sick. So that I’ll be taken care of by my favorite girl in the world-“

“You’re so stupid!” you facepalmed. “You see being ill as a reward?”

“Yeah, I’ll make you believe so by the end of the day,” he winked. “I’m not going anywhere.”

…

Thankfully, Dazai did give you medicine to clear your stuffy nose. And then he told you to stay in bed while he would prepare you…breakfast.

“Oh no,” you said, knowing well that you mostly cooked the meals for a reason. Dazai was good at many things, but there were exceptions. He wasn’t the worst cook, but he certainly wasn’t the best.

“Wait, please trust me on this one!” he pleaded before you could get up. “I promise you I won’t burn the house down.”

The brunette was staring at you with dramatic puppy-dog eyes, and you were too tired to object any further.

“You have to make sure it’s edible, too,” you glumly replied.

…

It felt like almost an hour passed. You started to get worried—was he really struggling with cooking you something? You imagined the kitchen would be a chaotic nightmare by now, and it was enough to make you want to check on him.

But the moment you decided to get up, the door opened with Dazai bringing in a bowl of hot soup. Surprisingly, you could smell the aroma—and it was good.

“You really underestimated me, ‘bella?” Dazai smirked as he placed the bowl on a portable bed tray. “Bon appétit!”

“I haven’t even tried it yet,” you smiled back. “It might be the worst soup I’ve ever had.”

It wasn’t bad. You hated to admit it, but it tasted delicious.

“The virus must’ve affected my taste buds, too,” you chuckled. “Because for someone whose forte isn’t cooking, this tastes really good.”

Dazai wiped his head with a phew! “I actually…put in a lot of effort. I wanted to make sure I did it all right for you. Sorry it took so long.”

You wanted to hug him. You found it so adorable that he had really taken his time to make you something.

“Awe, thanks, Osamu,” you responded. “This was really sweet.”

“So…do I get a few kisses and back rubs as a thank you?” he asked.

“Sorry, back rubs? I’m the one sick; you should be the one giving me them!”

…

Dazai ended up giving you the massages in exchange for continuing to cling to you without complaint. You accepted and were defeated at this point—the man really wasn’t going anywhere.

He continued to stay with you until you felt better, and very unsurprisingly he spoiled your recovery celebration by becoming sick himself.

“Heh…” he mumbled as you looked at the thermometer with a frown. Contradicting was Dazai with a large smile, despite just finding out he had a fever.

“Your turn, ‘bella!” he exclaimed. “I already called Kunikida saying I’m going to be out for another week! This almost beats a vacation.”

“Osamu!”

“What? Any time spent with you feels just as amazing. And this is just a result of how well I’ve taken care of you.”

CHUUYA wants to make your recovery as comfortable and entertaining as possible—he doesn’t want his darling feeling mopey the entire time. after all, enjoying something distracts one from the botherations of being sick, right?

You hadn’t done as much as you would’ve liked today. Unfortunately, you were sick, but not to the point where you had to visit a doctor or were stuck in bed. It was an inconvenient gray area, where you were still able to do things but accompanied by the mild symptoms of a cold.

“Nah, doll, you’re just a workaholic.”

Chuuya laughed as you pouted while trying to do your laundry. Just because you were sick didn’t mean you should skip your chores. You would probably still go to work the next day, too—as long as you weren’t dying, you’d be alright.

You sort of felt like you were, though. You were overcome by a haze of debilitation, whether you wanted to admit it or not. But you couldn’t just sit around all day.

“I’m fine though, Chuu,” you replied, but a contradicting sneeze immediately followed.

“Your nose is saying something different,” he replied, handing you a tissue. “If you’re so bored, how ‘bout we do something actually fun? And won’t exhaust the life out of you?”

“Well, what are you thinking?” you asked, curious as you wiped your nose.

…

Chuuya had you sat by the table with a bowl and a box of cornstarch.

“Out of all people, it was Q who showed me this.” You raised an eyebrow. “Don’t worry, baby, it’s not dangerous. It’s weird, but I can’t deny this entrances me.”

Chuuya poured some cornstarch into the container and added a cup of water. “It gets a little messy, but…” he started combining the contents until it became a gooey mixture.

You started giggling. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but it definitely wasn’t the sort of crafts experiment you did as a kid.

“Chuu, this is quicksand. You’ve never made it before?”

His eyes widened in surprise. “Quicksand? Nope. But look—if you play around with it, it becomes solid—isn’t that amazing? But if you let it go-“

“It turns back into liquid, yes,” you replied before you sneezed again.

“It’s so weird! What kinda manipulation is this?

You couldn’t help but laugh at how the Port Mafia executive was captivated by such a simple science project. You watched as he played around with the oobleck.

You realized you could live this day simply as well. You proceeded to make your own cool mixture as well.

“You got some on your face,” Chuuya said a little after you were finished with your venture and were washing your hands.

“Where?” you asked, about to touch your head.

“Right here,” you felt his thumb gently rub your cheek and then move around your neck to tug you closer.

“Just kidding.” He stole a kiss in its place.

…

Chuuya sat down on the edge of the bed with his guitar. It was late afternoon, and you decided for once a very needed nap. But not before your lover entertained you with one more thing.

“I’m gonna give ya a little performance.”

He strung his guitar several times and ensured everything was correctly tuned.

Your widened eyes in curiosity made his heart warm. You were so enamored with everything he did—just as he was utterly obsessed with you.

He started playing a familiar tune. Your favorite song. You immediately smiled despite your oncoming headache.

“One day, I think I’ll write my own song for you,” Chuuya said. “You work so hard, how couldn’t you be the inspiration of a ballad?”

You cherished times like these. Even though you were sick, you had the company of the soft, sweetheart side of the Mafia Executive.

FYODOR is full of surprises, and you falling ill is no exception. unexpectedly, he decides to let go of his schemes and responsibilities for the day, to make sure you’re feeling better.

He could already tell by your unusual exhaustion yesterday evening. You didn’t do anything that required more exertion than usual, and it was too frigid in the year for you to feel so hot.

Fyodor already knew you wouldn’t feel so good when you woke up the following day. Your cheeks were flushed, and your head was pounding. It even ached to sit up. It was the worst combination.

Feverishly, you sneezed. A tissue was immediately placed over your nose.

“Blow, milaya.”

You looked up at Fyodor, who was standing by the bed. His amethyst gaze fell upon you—his usual amalgam of tranquility and complacency looked a bit different today…was there a hint of concern shining through his eyes?

You took the tissue from his hands and blew your nose.

“You’re supposed to be at work, no?”

You tried your hardest not to get sick because of this reason. You would be another hassle on Fyodor’s list of endeavors. You hated the thought of contributing, especially when he was already stressed and occasionally neglected his own needs with what he already had to do.

“You would really expect me to when I had to carry you to bed last night?”

The previous evening was a blur. Sometime after dinner, the weather immediately flew over you, and all your energy just drained out.

“Ah.” You sneezed again into the tissue. “Well, I think I’ll be fine on my own. I know you have a lot on your hands. I can take care of myse-“

“Please believe me. You’re not being a burden,” Fyodor cut you off and directly addressed the point you had been dancing around. His hand found yours and started to massage your fingers. He felt ice cold against you—or perhaps, you were on fire.

“Is your throat sore? I’ll make you some tea.”

…

He didn’t leave you alone for too long. Fyodor returned with a cup of hot ginger tea that you immediately took, desperate for some relief for your throat. Your nose was quickly soothed by the warm, sharp aroma of the ginger as you held the mug close to your mouth.

If there was one thing you learned, there was a type of tea for every occasion. Fyodor had an entire cabinet dedicated to those beverages—all precisely arranged.

“Is it alright?” Fyodor asked as you sipped, the liquid alleviating the soreness in your throat.

“Yes, of course,” you replied. “Maybe after I can try to get up…” your voice trailed off as you struggled even to shift your position.

“What’s wrong?” Fyodor moved beside you again as you frowned.

“I feel really sore. Like I ran a marathon without stretching at all yesterday,” you dryly chuckled, even though that had not been the case at all. Your whole body ached; it felt uncomfortable to move anything, and you felt awfully weak.

Fyodor didn’t respond for a moment, thinking.

“You can still entertain yourself without moving. Do you want to read? I’ll bring you to the living room.”

You curtly nodded your head and picked out one of the many books on the large shelf before Fyodor carried you to the sofa in the next room.

“Stay on my lap,” he said, holding you by your waist when you tried to move away.

“I don’t want you to get sick too,” you replied, confused.

“I won’t, don’t worry. Besides, I’m doing a favor for you.”

He motioned for you to enjoy your book and not pay attention to him. So you did as he said—you flipped to the page you left off on and tried to immerse yourself in the plot.

It got easy to do so and lose track of reality because Fyodor started to massage you—hands moving in circular motions on your shoulders to ease and relax the pain on your joints.

You felt both too hot and cold alone on your bed earlier. But here, in the embrace of your lover, you could see the end of your little tunnel of fever.

“Thank you, Fedya,” you whispered sometime after.

…

He got up to do something on his own a little later, but not before tucking you into the softest blankets you owned on the couch. He admired you for a moment right after—a touch of amusement in his eyes.

“What’s so funny?” you asked with a pout. You felt like you were made into a burrito.

Fyodor had thought the same.

“Milashka,” he simply smiled.

You thought he went away to attend to the business he was able to at home—Fyodor was infamous for being a workaholic after all, but you were surprised once again when amidst your reading, you heard a melody coming from the other room. Rich and resonant, you realized he was practicing his cello.

You placed your book down and freed yourself from the warm blankets before making your way over to the next room, disregarding the dull pain that still accompanied you.

Fyodor didn’t pause as you entered and sat down on the piano’s stool. You opened the cover and placed your fingers on the keys before smoothly joining in with the composition you had secretly been learning while he was away so you could play with him.

He probably suspected it anyway, but you still smiled and felt a little pride as you harmonized with him without error—and while sick.

♬♩♫♪

There was a moment of silence after the final note. You felt at peace. The tune made you sleepy.

Fyodor stepped towards you, and you lifted your head to meet his gaze.

“You played it perfectly, lyubov,” he said before kissing your forehead. “How about a nap now as a reward?”

…

After a glass of water and an adjustment of the heater, Fyodor tucked you back under the covers. He checked your temperature with the back of his palm, and he was appeased to find that your fever had noticeably gone down.

You suddenly giggled, catching Fyodor off guard.

“Why are you giggling?”

“I had an observation,” you chirped. You wanted to tell him it was evident he had been stealing physical affection from you throughout the day and that he wasn’t sly, but alas, exhaustion had overcome you again.

You took his own hand in yours. “Wash your hands after,” you whispered before placing a kiss on his fingertips. “This was nice. I feel better because of you staying.”

AKUTAGAWA feels that the roles have been reversed because it is usually him who is sick, and you helping him get better. however, this time it’s you, and so he wants to repay all the care and love you showed him. for once, not to prove something, but to show proof of your adoration towards him.

You didn’t want Akutagawa to visit you that day. You had sent him a text earlier that you were sick—your pneumonia was so severe that you were admitted to the hospital. He immediately rushed over right after.

You told him he didn’t have to—truthfully, half of your heart didn’t want him to because of his already weakened immune system and his tendency to get sick easily.

Yet he still showed up at your bedside with a “get-better” box and pink tulips, a mask covering half his face.

“Ryu, I appreciate this so much,” you told him, a cough accompanying your statement. “But I promise you don’t need to stay—I don’t want you to get sick too.”

He didn’t respond before striding over to the sink as if he were in his own house, grabbing a vase and filling it with water. You watched him trim your flowers, place them in the container, and then putting it on the counter.

“Ryu…”

“You’re in the hospital. Do you think I could just go about my day like my girlfriend isn’t sick?”

Even though his tone was straightforward, his hand gently brushed away the hair covering your eyes.

He was visibly bothered. He hated seeing you in the hospital gown, lying on the bed. He hated the IV line attached to you and the distant beeps! of your vitals. Akutagawa went through this experience more often than not, and if not painful, it was always irritating and unpleasant.

He would never want you going through this, even once.

“Are you comfortable? Should I move you to one of the VIP rooms?”

“That’s not necessary, thank you though,” you replied. You noticed the exhaustive distress in his argentine eyes.

“I’m going to be okay, Ryu,” you reassured him. “I promise. Just don’t touch me for now.”

Akutagawa nodded. “Are you hungry? Is there anything you’re craving?”

“I want…something sweet,” you bashfully replied. “All the hospital food was savory…they missed a dessert.”

You could see the corners of his mouth slightly lift up—an unlikely smile, especially in a place like this. “No explanations are needed. I’ll be back.”

…

He returned with one of the sweets you always picked up whenever you went grocery shopping and a couple of figs for himself. Akutagawa didn’t like sugary things that much, but this fruit he could eat for days. He indeed ate one a day—you were able to observe how long he would be gone on a mission based on how many figs he brought with him.

Akutagawa had brought two today. Was he planning to stay with you overnight? You knew he hated the hospitals—he would never willingly go to one.

Yet here he was, pulling up a chair by your bedside.

“I brought a book,” he said. “Can I read to you?”

“Of course,” you replied. “I didn’t feel like using the TV here anyway, so nothing’s been entertaining.”

The onyx-haired pulled out a book from his coat.

“Once when I was six years old I saw a magnificent picture in a book, called True Stories from Nature, about the primeval forest,” he started.

When Akutagawa was sick, you often read him children’s stories to combat his restlessness. He was calmed by your voice and fell asleep faster than any over-the-counter medication ever worked.

The first time you had found him in the hospital before you were even in a relationship with him, you introduced him to The Little Prince. At first, he scoffed and turned his back the other way, pretending not to listen. But his furrowed brows relaxed, and his frown lifted as you continued with the story—the theme of the openmindedness of children compared to adults, loneliness, love, and loss all gave him something to think about.

Eventually, the book became a source of comfort and light to Akutagawa, and now he had his own copy.

"‘And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.’” By the time Akutagawa had gotten to that part, you had dozed off into a nap.

…

When you finally awoke, the curtains were closed, and the only source of light came from an ambient lamp on the nightstand. And in this night, you also felt a soft pressure on your legs—Akutagawa’s head. He had fallen asleep too, with the book still flipped to a page.

You felt both adoration and woe in your heart. He was sacrificing comfort and possibly his health for you. You desperately felt the need to stroke through his white-tipped raven hair, but you didn’t want to heighten any more chances.

You fell asleep again after minutes of watching your lover’s chest delicately rise and fall, just as he carried his true self without his violent front.

…

Akutagawa stayed until you woke up the following day. He went out to do some errands and then returned with a small gift for you he picked up during the day. That was the routine he followed for the next three days, always content to find you better than the previous day until you were all better.

A nurse came in with a final evaluation and discharged you. You changed into new clothes Akutagawa had brought you before running up and embracing him.

He hugged you back tightly, relieved that you were finally out. He turned to the vase of the pink tulips, which were starting to wither.

“Just in time,” he said.

“The get-well-soon flowers,” you giggled, taking your first good look at them. You loved how he knew of flower symbolism.

“Let’s get out of here,” Akutagawa said, holding out his hand for yours to take. “I despise dwelling in this place any longer.”

SIGMA is worried sick, even though you’re the one sick. how could he not, especially when he isn’t with you? are you feeling alright? drinking enough water? eating well?

“You’re sick?” Sigma asked over the phone.

“Is it my fault? I mean, I was feeling unwell last week, but I got better in a day, so I didn’t think it was that serious…”

“No, it wasn’t; please don’t worry,” you replied. You hated when your lover blamed your problems on himself. “But yeah, it sucks. I even lost my smell! I can’t smell anything.”

“Really?” You sensed his worry through the call.

“Do you need to go to a doctor? I can pick you up and take you there—or I can call the doctor to your house if you’d prefer that-“

“No, it’s okay! It’s not that serious; I’ll be fine in a few days,” you said. “I just wanted to let you know because I won’t be able to see you for a week. But don’t worry about me. I’ll update you.”

“Oh, I see,” Sigma responded. “Alright then.”

Firstly, Sigma was most definitely worried. Secondly, you couldn’t smell? He knew how much you loved the dulcet scents of the desserts he created and the delicate fragrances of your favorite flowers. You must’ve been even a little upset when you realized that sense was gone.

Of course, he wasn’t going to leave you to battle the viruses alone, despite you having just said you didn’t plan to see him until you got better. So, the part lilac, part pearly-haired immediately set out to plan a sweet surprise for you.

…

The next day, Sigma showed up at your front door with a homemade bento box and a few bags of groceries.

“What are you doing here?”

“I at least have to check if you’re eating well.”

One thing that hadn’t changed since meeting Sigma was the butterflies in your stomach feeling. He always showed nothing but ultimate consideration and compassion towards you, treating you like royalty.

“I’m trying,” you replied honestly. “Everything tastes the same. I can’t smell any of it.”

“Maybe it’ll be more appealing if the food looks nice.” With that, he walked to the dining table.

“You haven’t had lunch yet?” You nodded, expectably to him.

“Sit down, love.” He pulled out one of the chairs. You followed him, taking a seat as he prepared your meal—putting a placemat on the table and setting the bento box on top.

You opened the container, and you were revealed with an assortment of the prettiest foods. For the first time this week, you were hungry.

The ones that caught your eye the most were the rice balls decorated to look like chibi versions of you and Sigma. A part of you didn’t want to ruin something so cute.

“What—this is so cute, Sigma! You’re so creative,” you complimented him. “It’s like you cook with magic.”

You noticed Sigma’s cheeks tint a rosy pink. “T-thank you. Go ahead and eat while I prepare your dessert.”

“Dessert?” you asked as you eyed the remaining grocery bags he was holding.

“You’re going to bake here?” You weren’t complaining, but you wondered why he didn’t decide to do it at his place.

“Yeah. That way, it’ll taste the best. Everything tastes the best when it’s freshly baked.”

…

You ended up eating everything. Sigma’s cooking never failed to impress you, even for a previously sated stomach.

“I finished!” you exclaimed, earning a smile from Sigma in the kitchen.

You hadn’t paid attention to what he was making in the meantime. He had put the tray of mystery into the oven a few minutes ago, so you were unable to see what it was.

“It’ll be done in twenty minutes,” Sigma said, walking over to you and taking your hand. “Was it good?”

“Very tasty; I’m full now,” you replied, looking up at him. His ashen eyes shone a gleam of fondness once he made eye contact with you, causing him to fluster again. He was so cute—at times, Sigma still acted like a schoolboy with a crush on you.

“You know your body makes room for dessert,” he noted coyly.

He guided you to stand up, and as you did, a familiar scent softly breezed past you.

The smell of your favorite muffin—and the smell of Sigma’s kitchen. It was faint, but it was there. Your eyes widened in wonder.

“Wait, Sigma—I can smell this!”

Even though it was a bit dramatic, you were cheerful to finally be able to smell any thing after a couple of days. You spun with Sigma around the room in delight. Surrounded by the aroma that made you feel truly at home and the sunrays through the windows, you started to dance together.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” he asked, a bit concerned you were spinning around while feeling unwell.

“Yes,” you reassured him, drawing Sigma into an embrace. “I’m just thrilled right now. I think you’re cooking does have magic.”

…

The muffins were out and looked mouthwatering. Sigma took the first one from the tray and peeled down the wrapper.

“First taste is yours,” he said, taking your palm and placing the pastry in your hand.

“Today, I’ll be Sigma’s food critic,” you joked among the two of you. “He’s baked my favorite muffin—I’m rea-ally picky about this dessert, for your information. So I’m going to be really harsh on this review…”

Catching him off guard, you ate the entire sweet in one bite. You started laughing when Sigma abruptly gasped.

“Mm! That was delicious!” you declared, trying to sound like you were trying this for the first time. However, it contradicted the way you were reaching for a second one. Sigma had made this for you hundreds of times before—there was never one time you refused a muffin from him.

“Eleven out of ten!”

“And so are you,” Sigma added, bopping you on the nose. “If my cuisine does involve magic, then I hope that the food works better than medicine.”

bea’s acoustic songs are always so calming & pretty; in my mind, this is what chuuya plays for me. <3

i saw you said you were sick on the dash this month, i’m glad you’re feeling better by now/feel better soon, this is for you <3 @lovedazai @cheriiyaya @chuuyrr @osaemu @atlasnessie

i heard if you rb, your fav will give you get-well kisses until you feel better !! reblogs are cherished; they are what support me the most <3

© AUREATCHI 2024. no reposts or translations. do not steal. dividers by cafekitsune.

[froggiewrites]

I know you’re not taking requests rn BUT if in the future you wouldn’t mind and think it’s fun: I was working and had disney’s mulan (1998 obviously) in the background, hadn’t watched in a while so I did laugh when mulan was practicing acting like a man and said “ha! I see you have a sword, I have one too! they’re very manly-” and just drops the sword. What if reader had to go undercover as swordsman somewhere and they ask zoro for help/pointers and they do this really bad act in front of him? or maybe it’s something like a first meeting kind of thing where the reader is trying to blend in to escape or something and encounters zoro, does this horrible act and ends up confessing and asking for help? I just think this would be hilarious bc zoro might seem and feel very offended but has probably experienced worse with the crew’s jokes and if feelings are involved he could be like “why am I attracted to this idiot?”, affectionately ofc lol

I had a lot of fun with this one, anon. Mulan is tied for my favorite Disney movie, so I was already super on board with this request, and then as I started writing it just started getting really silly. I hope you enjoy it!!

Make a (Swords)Man Out of You

Pairing: Zoro x Reader

SFW

Summary: Your attempt to go undercover as a master swordsman isn't going particularly well. A kind (if somewhat grumpy) stranger offers you some lessons to help keep up the ruse. Warnings: Fluff, Reader is a loser (affectionate) in this one, Zoro is also a bit of a loser Word Count: 2.5k

You were seriously going to get yourself killed.

You were convinced this was going to be easy. You’d tricked people before, and frankly, how hard could it be to use a sword? You don’t need to pretend to be the best swordsman, just a swordsman!

It turns out using a sword is, admittedly, kind of hard.

You couldn’t count on one hand the amount of times you had nearly cut yourself, or the blade had slipped from your hands, or you ended up not slicing through anything because you messed up your swing. You try to tell yourself over and over again that you don’t need to be the best, just mediocre, but you can’t even manage that at this point. You’re going to get caught. You’ve been undercover in this group for a week now, and you’ve managed to avoid any actual swordplay so far, but you can’t keep this up for long. Not only have you not found the treasure you wanted, you’re probably going to get your head sliced off before you find even a hint of it’s location. 

So here you are, in the middle of the night, trying and once again failing to make a dent on this stupid training dummy.

“You’re not holding it right.”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of a man’s voice behind you. You whip around to see another mysterious swordsman who showed up a few days ago and immediately wiped the floor with several members of the group. You had no idea why he was here, considering he didn’t seem nearly as interested in mindless violence or ill-gotten gains as the rest of the people here. You couldn’t quite recall his name.

“I know what I’m doing,” you grumble, unconvincingly.

“Oh yeah?” He has a smug grin on his face, one that just screams I know more than you and we both know it. “Will you show me, then?”

This is it. You’re caught, he’s going to tell, and you’re going to get sliced to a billion little pieces. You try to keep your cool, to steady your breath and lie through your teeth as you have been all week, but something about him just cuts to your core and you break. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

He takes a step back at the panic in your voice, immediately looking unsure at the sight of your tears. “I’m not–I–Stop crying!” He says it roughly, more of a command than anything else, which only makes you cry harder.

“Please, I don’t want them to kill me! I didn’t think it’d be this hard! I just wanted some treasure, is that so wrong? Life is expensive!” Your blubber would be embarrassing if you had any coherent thoughts through your fear.

“Who said anything about killing you?” He moves forward, his hand covering your mouth and muffling your sobs and panicked words. “And seriously, stop crying. You’re being too damn loud, you’re going to get yourself caught! God, it’s a wonder you haven’t been caught already. You’re so obvious I knew from the moment I walked in you were trying to run some kind of con.”

You try to ask him how he knew immediately, but the words don’t make it through his palm.

“Stop talking. It’s fine. No one’s going to kill you.”

You think he can hear you promise? through his hand.

“Yes, I promise. Just…stop.”

He frees your mouth, and you take a deep and steadying breath.

“So why are you pretending to be a swordsman?”

“These bandits have been stealing a lot from people here, and I heard they stole a big priceless artifact from a nobleman. I figure if I get that, I can get off the island, sell it, and be set for life.”

“So you said you were a master swordsman?”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t think about lying about anything more believable?”

“They said they needed one. And I didn’t think I’d be this bad at it.”

He closes his eyes, pondering a moment. “You do seem pretty uniquely terrible at this.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“No problem.”

You try to steady your breath, and while you do, he takes your hands in his, turning them over and glaring at them as though they were an insult.

“Why are they so soft?”

“What?”

“Your hands. They’re too soft. You don’t have a single callus.”

“Why are you saying that like it’s a bad thing?”

“It means you don’t do anything with them. It means you definitely don’t hold a sword. If anyone here were capable you’d have been out on your ass day one.”

“I don’t think most people would notice that.”

“Any decent swordsman would. You’re damn lucky I’m the only one here.”

You want to scoff, to ask him what makes him so qualified, but you know he could sound the alarm at any moment, and it’s stupid to piss off a man who holds your life in his hands. “Why haven’t you turned me in already?”

He scoffs. “Why would I?”

“They’d probably give you a reward or something. You don’t get anything out of helping me.”

“What, are you trying to convince me to do it?”

Your heart clenches, your voice raising with fear. “No!”

He shushes you harshly. “God, it was a joke! Be quiet!”

You shrink in on yourself, covering your mouth before he gets the chance.

He sighs. “You’re terrible at this. Why the hell did you think you could keep up this act?”

“I’ve tricked people before!”

“Did those people have swords?”

“...No.”

“Did you keep up an act for weeks at a time?”

“Well–”

“Yes or no.”

“...No.”

He pinches his forehead, muttering something under his breath about an idiot you remind him of, and you pout indignantly. 

“I’m not an idiot!”

“Oh yeah? Because everything I’ve seen tonight has been pretty dumb.”

“Okay, well why are you here then, genius?”

He goes quiet, his eyes sliding away from yours.

“What, no answer?”

He mumbles something.

“What was that?”

You can barely hear the words, almost lost as he whispers them, his head tilted down in embarrassment. “I got lost.”

You can’t help the bark of a laugh that leaves you. “What?”

“I got lost! I was going to find my ship and I got turned around, so I decided to stay and see what this place was about! So what?”

“You got lost so you decided to join a group of bandits? And you’ve been here for days! Don’t you have anybody looking for you?”

“They’ll show up eventually!”

“Why didn’t you just ask for directions?”

“I don’t need directions!”

“Clearly, you do!”

You both groan in unison at the other, fighting frustration. You aren’t in much of a position to judge, but how could a person be more helpless? At least you got yourself into trouble on purpose.

“Where is your ship supposed to be docked?”

“I don’t remember exactly, it was near an opera house.”

“An…opera house?”

“Yeah?”

You cannot believe this is happening. “We don’t have one of those.”

“What?”

“There isn’t an opera house on this island. The closest one is a day’s ferry trip away. How the hell did you get here?”

“I walked.”

“That literally cannot be true! Like physically!”

“Well it is! So you must have forgotten!”

“Forgotten about the layout of the island I’ve lived my entire life on? Really?”

“God, you’re so annoying. I can’t believe I was going to help you.”

You pause. “You were going to help me? With what?”

“With swordplay! Obviously! You can’t even hold the damn thing right, you clearly need it.” He’s pouting, his lower lip jutted out like a child about to throw a tantrum. You just barely hold yourself back from telling himself that. As fun as it may be to taunt him, you really do need the help.

You can swallow your pride for the night. If everything works out, maybe you can make fun of him for this later. “...Would you still be willing to help me?”

“Why should I?”

“I can get you back to your ship. After I get the treasure, I mean.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“No offense, but you definitely do. And I kind of want to go with you anyway. I’m a little worried you’ll just walk off into the ocean if I don’t.”

He glares at you, eyes raking up and down your form, considering for a moment. He sighs. “Fine, I guess I can help.”

You feel hopeful for the first time in a while. Your new friend, who informs you his name is Zoro, seems rather skilled. Maybe this plan won’t get you killed after all!

Two days later you’re kicking yourself for daring to think that even for a second.

“How the hell are you still doing it wrong?” His hands are on your back again, adjusting your posture for the twentieth time today. “How hard can it be just to swing a sword?”

“It’s not! I’ve been swinging it this whole time!” You aggressively bring the blade down on the training dummy you two had stolen for your lessons. Zoro had thought you would need a day at most to get the basics down, but you were nearing the end of day two and making absolutely no progress.

He sighs, wrapping his arms around you, pressing his chest to your back as he adjusts your hold. You try not to blush as you ask, “What are you doing?”

“Fixing your hold. Come on, we’re going to swing it together. Clearly just telling you isn’t working, but maybe this will.” He puts his hands over yours, and you feel the heat radiating off of him. You try to focus on the movement as he guides you, but you can’t help but be distracted by the feeling of his muscles against your back. “Did you get that?”

“Huh?” You’re so grateful he can’t see your face right now. “Sorry, uh, can we do that one more time?”

Instead of making fun of you or complaining, he simply guides you through the motion again, going slow to ensure you understand every step, before repeating it again closer to a normal speed. “Did you get it?”

“I…think so. Maybe.”

He chuckles, and you can feel the rumble of his chest against your back. “Alright. Try it yourself, now.”

You do, and for once, the sword flies through the air with ease, and makes a sizable slash in the dummy. You stare for a moment, dumbfounded, before you drop the sword and whirl around to face him. “I did it!” You can’t stop yourself from throwing your arms around him.

“Wha–Hey! Don’t drop your sword!” Despite his scolding tone of voice, his arms are gentle as they wrap around you, lifting you up slightly. “...But that was good.”

Is that a hint of red at the tips of his ears?

No, of course not. It couldn’t be.

He sets you down, picking up the sword and placing it back in your hand. “Now do it again. If you can do something as simple as that, you can probably keep up the facade long enough to find your treasure.”

You do the motion ten, twenty, then thirty more times while Zoro watches on with satisfaction. “You know, I could probably make a real swordsman out of you if we had the time.”

You laugh. “Maybe you could. I don’t have anywhere to be after this. Does your ship have room for one more?”

You say it as a joke, but you can see on his face that for a moment, he genuinely considers the possibility. “It’s a big ship. You’d have to get approval from my Captain, though.”

“Do you think I could?”

“He’d love you.” He smiles fondly. “You’re just as reckless as he is. And you’d get along with everyone else, too. Nami would appreciate having someone else who knows the value of a Berry around. Usopp would love how gullible you are. And that cook…” He makes a quiet noise of disgust. “Anyway, you’d fit right in.”

You can see the affection radiating off of him as he talks about his friends. You can’t help but smile back at him. “They sound nice.”

“They have their moments.”

You sheathe your sword, rolling out your shoulders and neck. “Well, I think I only have a bit to go before I get the treasure. I’m so close I can taste it. I bet I can find it by tonight.”

“Here’s hoping. As you are now, you’d still get caught the moment you got put into a real battle. We have to find it quickly.”

You freeze, your heart pounding a little faster. “...We?”

“Yeah?” He looks at you like it’s obvious.

“You’re coming with me?”

“You thought I wouldn’t?”

“I don’t know! You never said you were going to!”

“I thought it was obvious. We’re going to go in, grab the treasure, and run like hell.”

You don’t like the way he simplifies it, but you have to admit that’s basically your entire plan. “And then I take you back to your ship?”

“It’d be hard for you to join if you didn’t.”

You can’t hide your shock. “You were serious?”

“Were you not?”

“I mean–I’d like to, but–”

“If you want to, then there’s no but. It’s settled.” He says it so easily. You wonder where he gets the confidence to speak things into existence like that, to say things as though they’re sure to happen simply because he wills it. His next words are spoken as an afterthought, as though they left his mouth before he even realized they were coming. “That’s good. I didn’t really want to let you go.”

“Huh?” Your face is definitely red now.

“Huh?” His face might be redder than yours.

“Did you–”

“No, definitely not.”

“You didn’t let me finish.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He sharply turns around. “We have a treasure to go steal.”

Well, if he isn’t going to be brave about this, you suppose you’ll have to. You wouldn’t survive the tension-filled boat ride over otherwise. “Oh, the brave swordsman is running away?”

You see his shoulders tense, and you know you got him. “I am not running away.”

“Then why aren’t you looking at me, Zoro?” You keep your voice teasing and sickly sweet.

He slowly turns, desperately avoiding your eyes.

“You still aren’t loo–”

Before you can finish your taunt, chapped lips are pressed against yours. It’s jarring and all too brief, gone before you even realize it was there. By the time you can blink, he’s backed away again, stalking off with a purpose. “Come on. We’re losing daylight.”

“That’s the wrong way.”

He turns back around without a word, rushing past you. You can’t help the goofy little grin that makes its way onto your lips. You won’t tell him, not now, but you didn’t really want to let him go quite yet either.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @dreamcastgirl99 @tochillwithamockingjay

[icarusredwings]

Team Leader.

A Worst wolverine's flashback fic.

Ft. Poolverine and a very confusing situationship. (COUGH scogan- mainly scogan COUGH)

~5k

Cw: Fightin n’ fuckin, internalized homophobia, prediscussed Cnc, Wrestling, Switching, Brat taming(?) Dominance play, Affair, pet play if you squint, rough feral floor sex, Handcuffs, cloth gags, degrading, no after care.. Logan just wanted a kiss.. angst

“Yeah.. Scott begged me to wear that suit..”

“Oh?” Wade asks, smirking as he leans over the table, watching as Logan takes another shot, honestly he's not sure why he just doesn't chug the bottle at this point. This was his second one for tonight, they were splurging after a particularly rough day, and of course, Wade was curious. And Logan was in the mood for reminiscing.

“What else did he do?”

“Well…there was this.. thing..”

___A very… very…long time ago___

Walking into the mansion, the team was pooped, costumes ripped, hair a mess, sweating to death, and ultimately…. defeated.

Cyclops, who had dust and dirt alike all over him, looking about as rugged as he'd ever get, clapped his hands.

“Alright gang, Good work out there.”

“Gang? What are we? Mystery incorporated?” Jubilee asks, who had cracked her sunglasses, lost an earring, Her jacket had tears in it and was already in a sassy mood from the failed mission.

He sighs. “Sure. If it makes you happy.”

“Does that make Jean Velma or Daphne?” Wolverine spoke up, covered in greasy sweat, his outfit practically in shambles. He had even lost a glove. Hank wouldn't like that. This was his 3rd one this month that has gone missing.

Cyclops pinched the bridge of his nose. “Logan, don't start..”

“Hey, I'm not the one calling us ‘gang’. Besides, that mission was shit, Scott and you know it.”

“I think that would make me Daphne.” Jean mumbled after some thought, Smiling a bit at the idea while Ororo groaned, heading up towards her room. She knew that they would start fighting any second and she was far too tired to deal with it. Oh well. Let the boys be boys. It made them happy to duke it out once in a while anyway.

“Jean, don't encourage them..” His posture was as if he just rolled his eyes. Not like anyone could see it though.

“I mean- We're both red heads, right? And if you're Fred, That makes me Daphne.” She explained, Logically of course, like always.

Logan smirked, putting a hand on his hip. “Yeah. You're pretty like her too, Red.”

Jean gave a small giggle, patting her boyfriend on the shoulder. “Alright. You two play nice.” She says “I'm going to check in with the Professor.”

He sighs, putting his hand on top of hers when patted. “Alright. Try not to make him too disappointed in us.”

“It's kind of hard to lie to a telepath but I'll do my best.” She agrees, starting to walk away.

Both men stared as she walked away. Scott gave a huff out of his nose, noticing. “Say, Jubes, does that make Logan the dog?” He asks as Logan growls. “I'm not a damn dog.”

Jubes blinked, looking back between the two and then to Jean down the hall. “I uh…I gotta shower before Hank clogs the drain with fur….Bye!” She says before running off, wanting to get a shower in before the boys got ugly.

Most times she would be up to watch a good fight, they've been at it for a week now, But today? She just wanted to be clean and maybe take a nap. One girl could only handle so many sparkles and fist fights.

“I'll take that as a yes. I'd say that you should shower too but wet dogs stink.” Scott muttered.

Grabbing his collar, Logan practically snarled in his face. “If you ever call me a dog again, Ill-”

“You'll what? Bite me? Last time I checked, dogs that bite get euthanized.” His hand came up to the sides of his head, as if threatening him.

Gritting his teeth, Logan let go, Crossing his arms.

“And besides if you haven't forgotten, Ascot boy, the guy got away. Who's fault is that? What kind of leader calls shots that get people killed?!”

“No one died, Logan! We're Xmen! We don't Kill people.” He said, making Logan point at him, the other hand in a fist.

“You lasered a whole building down! Dozens of people got injured!”

“Don't remind me! Do you think I like that on my conscious? We just need to get better. Train more.” Starting to walk away, he groans, shoulders dropping, saying this last line as if he's already thought about what he's done today and how he could have prevented it.

“What we need is a better leader.” Logan grumbled, causing him to turn around.

“What? Like you? Oh- Sure. Yeah. That'll go great. You can't lead this team Logan.” He says this as if it was a well known fact. As known as the ocean was blue like Wolverine's frozen glare.

“Yes I can! and I'd be a way better leader than you!” He snaps.

Eyeing him with what Logan could only assume was a glare, Scott scoffed. “Sure Scooby. You keep thinking that.” he goes to walk away again but Logan grabs him, turning him around as he holds him once again. Pulling him down to his level as he bared his teeth to him.

“Don't you ever call me that again. Who made you the boss anyway!? I can do what I want when I want. I don't remember signing a contract saying I'd obey a tightwad with his spandex up his ass!”

“The professor did! And if you have a problem with that you can take it up with him. Now get off of me!”

Shoving him away, He did let go, grunting some in displeasure seeing him actually walk away this time. So.. like a dog… he followed.

“Why don't you do it yourself.”

“What?”

“In the wild the strongest one is the leader and I know damn well that I'm bigger than you.”

Scott let out a laugh. “Ha! That's funny. Sure you're heavier than me but being a leader takes more than strength Logan. Even you should know that.”

“Are you saying you're stronger than me?”

“Maybe I am. Now move.”

Getting to his room, Scott turned, only for Logan to stand in front of it.

“Prove it.”

“What?”

“You heard me! Don't play stupid now! Prove it you coward!” He tells him.

Scott grunts, trying to find a way around him but couldn't. “Come on, you're being childish.”

“Then prove it! If you're such a good leader then why are you wussing out? Hm?”

“Logan! I'm not playing with you. Some of us have important stuff to do, move!”

Maybe it was the fact Logan was so slippery from the sweat. Maybe it was the fact that half their outfits were gone, lost somewhere in the city rubble. Maybe it was the fact that Scott knew he wouldn't go away until this was settled but he had gone to move him aside, only to be practically kicked through the door frame.

Falling onto his carpet, he grunted, sitting up on his hands.

“What the hell is wrong with you!?”

“I said prove it! And if I'm such a dog, It should be easy to show yer pack leader, right, Lasik?”

Scott glared, thinking for a minute. “Fine. But don't go crying to the Professor with your tail between your legs when I'm done with you.”

Kicking the door closed behind him, Logan smirked, unsheathing his claws. “Let's go, Pretty boy.”

So that's how we got here.

The majority of their costumes further ripped off, everything the two owned out in the open, wrestling to pin the other. Except it was more than that. The constant switching of positions and reluctant trade off of those in control.

Holding his hips back with an arm, and a hand around his throat, Logan kept the pace decent. He always did. Panting smirky huffs by his ear, Scott was trying to push him away, only for him to growl and nip his finger.

“Ouch-Logan! O-off!”

“I told you I'm stronger than you.”

“Stronger…Y-yes-” He started, Trying to keep standing up on his hands. The second he let his chest touch the floor he'd be done and he knew it. “But, This isn't the woods anymore pal!”

Attempting to pull the hand away from his neck, It only tightened, unsheathing those claws of his. “Going somewhere? You sure thought so huh?”

“Oh please! Like you'd have the balls-” a soft yip came from him as something hit his skin from behind. The blush once on his cheeks now spreads to his ears and throat like some kind of disease. One that unfortunately was incurable.

Smirking, The man scoffed. “You were saying?”

“Shut up.. god you're such a child. Let go!”

“Make me.” He growls, shifting his weight to pull him up, locking the arm around him and headlocked the other. Sure it was a bit tricky but seeing Scott squirm like this and willingly spread his knees wider made him feel successful in this battle of dominance.

Bouncing his hips up, A little giggle came from him as he reached an arm down, palming at him through the half pulled down briefs. “Where's those leadership skills now, bub? Hm?” Snarling against his skin was so fun, the temptation to sink his fangs into him, though he knew he wouldn't enjoy it, and explaining to Xavier why his star student had 4 massive holes in the side of his neck was NOT on his bucket list.

“Quit that. Don't you growl at me!” He says, trying to slip out of his grip but the more he tried the more Logan just held him tighter. God his hands were so well placed too, firmly keeping him in place to be bucked into like some kind of bitch.

Yeah well, Charles didn't raise no bitch. He raised a leader. Someone confident enough to understand the importance of the waiting game. How to deal with meat headed fools who gave their trust away far too easily when the entire world was in drought.

Closing his eyes, He tried to focus. Alright, think… Yeah that'll do. Leaning his head back onto his shoulder, letting out a few huffs, letting his arm sneak up behind his head. Gripping a fist full of hair, He let the other hand come to the arm that was holding him.

Leaning forward, he let himself fall a certain way that made his mouth fall open. “Logan..”

“Heh.. That wasn't so hard, was it?” He whispers, loosening his grip so he could put an arm forward on the floor. “See? I told you I was stronger than you.” He purrs with a sense of pride, becoming gentle with his touches, passionate even now that he thought Summers had submitted.

If we're being honest, he had no clue of this plan was going to work or not. Logan was right, he was stronger than him. That's always been one of his flaws. Despite how strong he truly was, how defined and well stretched his muscles were, Logan could throw him around like a raggedy ann doll, have his way with him however he wanted.

Scott swallowed, shaking his head. No. This was more than a test of strength and he knew so. He knew that Logan was trying to humiliate him. As easy as it would be to stay here and let him mate with him like a feral dog, he knew Logan would walk- No. Strut around the mansion all cocky and cause more problems amongst the team. It's just how he was.

Let him get away with it once? Shame on you. Because he wouldn't ever let you put him in his place a second time. He'd bring it up over and over again, brag and tease you constantly at every corner. That wouldn't be good for the team dynamic.

With a hiss through grit teeth, Scott quickly took hold of him with both hands, Throwing him over his shoulder, slamming his knees onto his forearms before he could try to scratch him.

“Yeah, You're right. That wasn't hard.” He smirks, turning back to look at the baffled face. Okay maybe trying to make a point while your ass was in front of his face wasn't the best plan but it worked didn't it?

Jumping up, he flipped him over, grabbing his arm as he sat on his back, his leg up on the other hand. Flexible fucker wasn't he?

“Now. Are you going to listen or do I have to prove it more?”

“Just because you got your leadership patch in boy scouts doesn't mea-” Gritting his teeth, He was jerked up onto a singular hand and his knees. You could tell that part of him had melted into such rough treatment, letting a couple of grunts escape as he closed his eyes, a small smirk on his face.

“What was that, short stack?” He asks, being sure to slam into him a way that makes his body jolt forward. “Losing your touch, Lo. Maybe stay off the syrup.” Logan turned to look at him with a snarl, glaring at the comment. Scott knew how he liked to sweeten his whiskey (and practically everything else) with Canada's delicacy.

“Oh, You're so fucking dead!”

Coming down the hall, Ororo was trying to comfort Jean about the mission. “It was hard on all of us, No? Just because you're a telepath doesn't mean you could have prevented it.” She smiles. “Yeah.. I hope the professor finds a foreseer soon. A little heads up would be nice.” The two giggle as Jean sighs. “I should go comfort Scott. He’s been really stressed out recently.” At first Ororo nodded, but getting closer to the door, This changed.

“Hey.. you know.. We should go get something from the city. Rouge took Jubilee so it would just be us sisters.” She grins, trying not to look so nervous about all of the grunts and muffled argument that was coming from the other side of the door.

Jean frowned. “Oh, They're fighting again… I really should-”

“Jeanie, Honey. Boys are just like that sometimes. You know how the lower species is. Always fighting like apes.” She put an arm around her shoulder, starting to lead her away with that innocent big sister's grin.

“Ha! Yeah I guess you're right. And it's like.. I'm not their mom right?”

“Exactly! You shouldn't have to keep them from fighting.”

“You're right. Gosh, Ro, you're such a good friend.”

Nodding, she glanced back at the door over her shoulder. “Oh, you have no idea.. Let's just hope they are finished by the time we return..”

The rug burn that Logan was getting on his cheek would be all worthwhile, especially like this? An arm put behind his back and a hand keeping his skull pressed against the carpet? He'd be a massive liar if he said this was new. Scott was always this way. You had to get him riled up just enough to take all that stress in his lower back and put it to good use, such as pounding Logan against the floor.

To smell his sweat, hear his mutters of passive agressive dirty talk, feel just how tight of a grip he had on his wrist, twisted just right so if he unsheathed those claws of his, they'd be going directly into his back.

Scott was clever like that. Such a teacher's pet. If he truly had wanted, Scott would be across the room by now, his face imprinted into the wall, but God did Logan love a quick witted idiot. He loved the tug of the fistful of hair.

He loved how confident he was afterwards, his chest puffed out and his mind clearer than ever. The private teasing he got from him in the halls, whispers of triumph and smart ass smirks directed at him whenever together. It made his stomach turn, his face heat and look away with his arms crossed to keep from his heart contained in the metal cage he's made for it.

“Not much to say now, Huh Logan? Not as tough as you thought?”

Letting out a little growl, it turned into a groan way quicker than he appreciated.

“What did I say about growling? God, you're so disobedient.”

A whine.

“Aw, don't tell me you've given up already? I thought wolves were stronger than that.”

“I-im not a wolf..”

“I don't know, Lo. You're sure acting like a pathetic pup.”

And there were those butterflies again, that shock that ran up his spine, smirking somewhat like an idiot as a snort of laughter escaped.

“There's a good boy. Maybe if you behaved like this more often we'd get along just fine.” He whispers, Sitting up as he lets go of his head and arm, now focusing on his hips.

All these thoughts were gradually getting beat out of him, replaced with newer, worse thoughts. He could feel himself going under in the sense that Logan could barely understand what was being said to him, hearing his voice in general was enough, even if the words slurred together into a quiet murmur of white noise that he enjoyed a little too much. He had to do something. Anything to get him out of his head before he wound up a drooling brain dead mess on the carpet.

Stretching his arms out, he let out a large groan as if signaling he was almost there, fully submitting under him.

“Shh. Someone might hear. Gotta get you a muzzle.” He whispers, Holding him by the front of his thighs.

Whining, He tries to push himself back more, one hand clawing the carpet, the other pulling a scrap of Scotts suit to his mouth, shoving it deep behind his canines, groaning into it as he breathed in the scent.

“Good thinking, Lo. You aren't as dumb of a mutt as I pinned you for.” For this, he was given an affectionate slap on the ass, a soft moan coming through the cloth.

Deeply breathing out as he pulls out just enough for the tip to still be in, quickly spitting on his hand but Logan was trying to crawl away. Before he could lather him with the saliva, Logan had tried to get up, making it only two steps away. Grabbing his leg, Scott jerks him back.

Rolling them over, Logan growls at him, about to unseath when an arm shoved his head against the side of the metal bed frame.

“Where do you think you're going? Huh? I already told you, you aren't tucking your tail out of this one. You wanna act like this? Fine. I'll tame you. Train you. You'll be my obedient pet one way or another.” Scott sneers.

Logan's eyes widen, frowning for a second as he realizes that somehow, out of nowhere, Scott had cuffed his hands, chain around the leg of the bed. Wait, when did he? How did he?

Before he could complain, His back arches slightly, putting his head back with a groan. “Fuck-”

“Watch your mouth, Mutt!” He says, shoving the cloth back in his mouth, getting bit. “Oh you bitc- fine! You wanted it, you're In for it now. Remember this when they ask why you're limping. You fell down the steps because you're a dumb mutt, got it?”

Logan nods, having trouble focusing, squirming and trying to tug at the cuffs.

“Don't even. They're vibranium. Like I said. Leaders have plans. Brute strength won't help you here, so what's your plan?”

Examining the cuffs, he notices a small J engraved into the bottom. It's now that Logan's dick twitched, his heart clenching as he smiled. Vibranium was so expensive.. and he bought them custom just for him. That must mean he cares about him, right?

“Why are you smiling? I'm about to win. Think, Logan. Remember the rules.” The rules were simple. Whoever came first loses. Practically anything else is on the table. Or.. in this case.. carpet.

The fingers that pressed into him, wet and warm, made him clench, earning him a stretch. “Quit moving. Lay down. Roll over. Stay.” He teases, slamming in again.

Logan's head goes back with a moan, drowned out by the cloth.

“Good booy, Lo. Now stay. And hush. Let your leader take care of it.” He says, smirking as he leans over him, noses an inch from each other. Logan wants to kiss him. Scratch that. He wants Scott to kiss him. He wants him to hold him and abuse his prostate like he was in a rut.

The pheromones ran through his nose as his chest heaved. He couldn't breathe, Light headed and dizzy. Or maybe it was how he looked at him when balls deep like this. Shit. He hates him. He hates him so goddamn much, and yet still he shakes with pleasure, jolting himself up off the floor while the man uses him like some kind of whore. Logan couldn't believe that all he had to do was rough him up a bit to get this kind of treatment.

He's spent so much time tripping over his lewd words in the hallway, dropping down on his knees in the shower, watching him bare chested and sweating in the danger room, Aching to be touched like this. And now he had it. This wasn't the first time, but the last time he had got too excited and came way too early.. something told him that this time Scott would stay after. He had so much energy, and putting it all out on him? It made Logan’s whines jump an octave.

Each thrust was rhythmic, the force, the length of pulling out, the angle. It was all planned. And this is why Scott was the leader. He was the guy with the plan.

“Stop tightening like that or I'll leave you here, chained up and desperate.” He grunts, swinging an arm under him to help him stay arched. With the extra support, He lets himself be limp in the upper body, biting his lip.

Leaning down, he nips at his abdomen, a soft chuckle coming up as Logan whimpers. “But you'd like that, huh? Tied up and sticky. Fucking sicko.”

He groans, each mean word causing a twitch. Putting his legs up to his chest, he spreads wide, Scott pushing up the buckle of his knee, the other holding his inner high, moaning lowly.

This is what Logan had wanted. He never wanted his hips to leave, he wanted- No. Needed Scott to use him to his own disgusting desires, fuck him every chance he got, every time he misbehaved, every time he sniffed even A hint of attitude in his voice.

The sloppier things got, the closer he got, Connecting their foreheads, eyes closed, Logan's grunts and huffs of air meeting with his grumbles of dominance and pants. It was all so warm. so beautiful. Perfect.

Spitting out the cloth, he went to say something but Scott only shoved it back in. “Shut up. Dog's can't talk.” He says, the way his stomach was tightening showing how close they both were. Whining, Logan spits out the tattered rag again, “Scooby can.”

“I thought you weren't scooby?” He smirks, a groan following, putting his face into Logan’s shoulder, bouncing a bit rougher.

Letting his mouth fall open, He moans, hands subconsciously jerking at the cuffs. This would be the time he'd scratch his back and clamp down around his waist and if it wasn't for Scott's body pushing his leg up still, he'd hold him so tight that he couldn't even think of leaving.

“Ooh fuck- fuck fuck fuck! Scott- s-Scotty fuck- please. Don't-”

“Are you finally going to behave? Huh? Mutt?”

Logan nods quickly, feeling his toes curl. “Y-yes.”

“Good boy, Logan.” He tells him the amount of rising warmth in his stomach running up his spine. Tears came to the corner of his eyes, gasping, keeping his head touching the ground as he jerks up, jolting a few times as sticky stings paint his chest, his stomach getting extra heat from the inside and out as he sits back up on his hands. “Shit-!

His claws pop, a bit of drool seeping out the corner of his lip, the stuffed feeling of artificial affection staying only a moment. Pulling away with a pop, Scott smirks, Smiling that shitty way whenever he gets his way. “God, Look at you.. Pathetic.. obedient..”

‘Mine' he hoped he'd say.

“All messy.. filthy mutt..”

Leaning up to unlock the cuffs, Logan is still buried, letting the metal sink back into his skin as he collapses, chest rising and falling against the floor, staring up at him with a pointy grin.

Bringing a hand to his cheek, Scott caresses him with a playful laugh. “You know.. you don't have to act out to get my attention. You could just.. ask.” He says softly.

Nuzzling into his hand, Logan smirks, Just now coming down from that beautiful cloud in the sky. “I'll remember that.” Taking hold of his arm, he pulls him closer, arms trying to wrap around his neck, a kiss to seal the deal on what so far has been a fun time for him.

“Woah- what are you doing?” He sits up, putting his hand on his shoulder as if pushing him away.

Logan frowns. “I was..” in An instant he felt shame fill the once warm spot in his stomach, twisting and coming up to his lungs. It was hard to breathe. Hard to think. Here was this beautiful man sitting infront of him, still fresh with the after glow, and yet… He didn't want to kiss him. Deep in his chest, he felt a pang.

“I… I thought..”

“Thought what?” The tone is condoncending, almost teasing. As if Scott was in disbelief of what he was hearing.

Leaning against the bedframe, naked and cold, Logan looks away. “...I thought were gonna kiss… Or.. somthin’..”

The laugh he coughs up is enough to make Logan want to puke, crossing his arms and closed his legs, pouting as he stares at the floor, the patch of cloth still there.

“You thought-? Logan. I'm getting married.”

It was a slap in the face. The ultimate humiliating moment.

“I'm engaged. And certainly not to you.”

“....”

“Look, What we have is fun but.. It ain't nothin.”

‘Nothin’...? Was it nothing in the danger room? Was it nothin in the shower? Nothin in the black bird?

Was it nothing on Jean's bed?

He tries to hide the gloss in his eyes as he glares at him.

And that's when I realized… I was the fool..

“...Im tellin'er…” He growls, tired of being the fool. Tired of sneaking around. Tired of betraying one of the first people to hold his head in their hands so gently.

“You wouldn't tell her anything.” He says, scoffing.

Logan had heard the foot steps, but didnt bother telling him. Why should he?

“Tell me what?- Scott?! What are you doing!?” Red stood there with a random mall dining hall cup in hand, some kinda fancy juice. She was mortified. Next to her, Ororo held a blue drink, matching Jean's red one. “Oh good goddess…”

“Jean!?” He cried, jumping up to run after the crying girl. “This is all your fault! I should have known. You just wanted to come between us so you can have her for yourself!” He scolds him, pointing at him like the master of a dog who was caught digging in the garbage.

That was the day.. I decided.. I'm done being his mutt.

“.....I just wanted a kiss..”

___The preset___

A tear drips into Logan’s shot as he stares at the table, glaze eyed and glossy with salty thick streams. “...The J was for Jean…”

Logan shakes his head softly. “I tried to be obedient.. I thought… I thought maybe he'd..”

He shifts his head, trying to hide it in his hand, face palming a few times. “I'm so stupid Wade… so stupid.. To think that.. that maybe..” The man sniffled, his crow feet getting tighter as he thought more about it.

“Oh, No, honey. He didn't even kiss you? Com’ere. I'll give you all the kisses. Promise.”

Shimmying himself into Logan's lap, he nuzzles against Logan's gray streaked chops, Grabbing his face and kissing him all over. Through the tears, Logan lets out a soft snort.

“Thanks, Wade..”

“Loagie?”

“Hm..”

“Do you want engraved Handcuffs? They probably won't be vibranium cause I told T'challa that Suri and I could be twins. Apparently she took great offense to that so now I'm banned from Wakanda.”

“You don't have too..”

“L or W?” He asks, in a serious tone, wrapping his arms around his neck. He was patient while Logan thought, checking his eyes for sincerity.

“But-”

“Or H? For Howlett?”

He smiles, a blush rising up his ears, and not cause the whiskey. “...Logan.”

“Oooh, whole name? Do you know how much engraved metal costs PER letter? Now who went and spoiled you, huh? Mr. Fancy feast cat food.” He scoffs, chuckling.

“You did.”

“Oh yeah… I did do that, didn't I? Anything for my, Peanut.”

The rest of the evening, Wade didn't let him go unkissed for A total of every 5 minutes, smooching him anywhere he could reach.

“I'll kiss ya, baby. Always.”

[eluxcastar]

can we get more dadtore fics plz?🤭🤭🤍🤍

Dadtore and his raccoon child

── ୨୧：il dottore & reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: dadtore gets his coat stolen and quite possibly has a mild existential crisis at the realisation he is a present and available father

୨୧﹑genre :: fluff

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, child reader, reader’s backstory is ambiguous, it's finally acknowledged they don't talk but feel free to ignore that, sorta proofread (omg finally I edited something)

୨୧﹑words :: 1.9k

I went to publish this and realised I lost all my dividers because I'm on a new laptop so I'm gonna have to go get those back 😭😭

anyway baby has officially graduated to raccoon status because each day this child grows more feral and will continue to do so 🫵 I'm surprised I even managed to write this cause I've been calling so many grown men babygirl lately Idk what even makes one say that about König from Call of Duty but I do

Whether against your will or the result of some strange form of Stockholm Syndrome, you have somehow come to love the days spent with him. It scares him more than he'd like, knowing that your life rests in his hands, even more so that that bothers him, yet he has been unable to remain especially angry with you.

No matter what you do, what buttons you push, and how much you've forced him to rearrange his lab to practically babyproof it, his desire to consider you a pest dies. It has rapidly died since he realised you clung to him so tightly when you became ill, even if it turned out to be only a low-grade fever that you were free from in a day or two. Something about it made the growing bond he had noticed and his fondness for you skyrocket, and it all happened right under his nose while he was distracted with making you comfortable and keeping you company.

Dottore never thought he'd have a doorframe close to one of the shelves in his lab marred by the marker-made scribbles of a height tracker specifically to tell him when it's time to cram everything up another shelve, yet it's there. He sees it whenever he swivels his chair in that direction or when the segments poke at it, mildly intrigued by his interest.

He can't trust some of them yet — not with you — the ones he does trust are almost entirely uninterested in you because that keeps you safe. His segments can't gain anything from a child who only annoys them by trying to hug their leg until they shove you away. From there, you can sense that they don't want to play from the glares you get that send you scurrying back to whatever corner has the reject dolls Sandrone gave him to mock him for his soft spot, so they don't care.

Despite wishing you were little more than a lingering annoyance he could palm off to the first available parental figure, you trust him so implicitly, and he's falling victim to your charms each time you stand behind him, peeking over his shoulder to spy on him like you're so sneaky, even when he can clearly see you looming out of the corner of his eye. You show interest and want to be around him, to loiter despite knowing you will receive only acknowledgement as he talks to you.

Returning to the lab reveals that you seem to have stolen his coat again — at least, that's what he gleans from its migration from the back of his chair to the floor — though he does not particularly mind even as you drag it back to your little set of chairs set up in the corner for you to play with.

Whatever tables did to you, Dottore has yet to figure out how it made you want to shove the little table you have over there so violently all the time. In your defence, it is usually in the way, and maybe it did something to deserve it that has you holding a grudge, but it's irrelevant as you position your little chairs and drape his coat over the backs of them to make a roof for your hideout.

A child's cubby.

At some point, he noticed you took to childish things like that, even when you didn't do that before, almost like you became more…childish. It's welcome. You warm up to the safety of his care and the joy of goading him into entertaining you.

He used to bar the younger segments from making those forts as they'd put them everywhere and neglected to return the items they grabbed to do so. You are not exactly better, though you tend to use appropriate materials. It is preferable to their habits of senselessly trying to stack things on top of each other and then getting confused as to why they would all fall down when a chasm to crawl inside of does not magically appear in the absence of intentional planning.

There's a reason he's Il Dottore and not Il Ingegnere.

The stealing does not change, however.

Dottore approaches your cubby, intent on investigating this fort you've crafted with the help of his coat. He realises you're humming when he gets closer, as you have been a lot lately. You make more noises now. Not quite words, but noises, and that's more than enough for now. He'd like to hold a proper conversation with you at some point, but you won't even say your own name, let alone keep up a whole verbal conversation that doesn't require a game of charades.

"Just what are you doing?" he asks, and the moment he does, you've grabbed the overcoat from where you had balanced it and run off giggling.

You narrowly escape him, settling off by his chair where you had first obtained the coat — a fickle cat-and-mouse game that will inevitably end one of two ways — you seem intent on keeping that coat, however. He watches as you burrow amidst the thick fabric of the overcoat you mischievously stole from him, the furs tickling your cheeks and warming you up as it sits bunched around your tiny body in a heap of cloth. It engulfs you as you are, but you always like it.

What bothers him so much is that if you were any other child pulling these stunts and creating trouble, Dottore would have found some way to get rid of you by now — he could've given you to the Knave. He can't. He's tried. He tried so hard, even attempting to justify it with his own fondness by convincing himself it would be for your own good. He even talked to her about it at one point, and she almost stole you, thinking the worst, before she realised how spoiled you were by Dottore's standards.

Selfishly, he couldn't do it. He couldn't bear it, even when he told himself Arlecchino would take better care of you than he could ever.

So you're still here, still interrupting his vital work to play a mockery of hide-and-seek where you manage to be the worst yet most endearing hider he could possibly seek, burrowing yourself out of sight beneath his coat as your head disappears and you lay flat on your stomach. A pest. That's what you should be. He stalks toward you like you are a tiny pest hunted by an eager cat waiting to catch you, but stops just before you.

It is nowhere near Dottore's nature to loudly question what this stray pile of laundry is doing lying around, nor can he bring himself to try baby-talking you in that singsong voice people use for children, so he kneels in front of you instead, lowered to your eye level. You wouldn't particularly appreciate it if he did pick up that ear-grating habit anyway.

The overcoat writhes as if a creature stirs beneath it, and you poke your head out to greet him with a slowly forming cheeky grin that devolves into giggles as you realise you are caught. You duck back into the safety of his coat, burrowing amidst its comfort and returning to hiding.

He cannot possibly keep the amused huff he lets out from escaping at the sound of your giggling before shaking his head. "Are you going to come out?" he asks. Of course not. You are going to squirm under there until he pulls you out. "Insufferable little thing," he mutters half-heartedly. He's unable to find the will to be truly angry with you, though he never really was in the first place, merely relenting at your silence.

Dottore rests his other knee on the ground and steals his coat from your little hands. With it, you shortly follow as you are collected in his arms and perched on his lap as he sits back in his chair, leaving you poorly balanced yet able to shift yourself into a comfortable spot where you won't fall. Dottore wraps his coat snugly around you, just as you had done before, and lets you settle into place.

You're so small, pacified by his arms around you to reluctantly grant you the hug he knows you want. You like those. He realised that when all you wanted in your sickness-fuelled stupor was for him to cradle you in his arms and let you lean against him. Something about it makes you look so vulnerable. You need someone who can care for and protect you despite your ability to care for yourself; he is the woefully imperfect choice who should not want to take on that task but who may be uniquely suited to it because of that.

'Damaged' children who have had to adapt to the shortcomings of others do not benefit solely from perfection but can become suffocated by it. They need something that suits their unusual need for guidance without expectation of normalcy. He's living it now as his inexperience with this idea of a family forces him to confront imperfection — dismal humanity.

You will never be like a child raised in a perfect family, nor can you offer him complete dependence and vulnerability; he doesn't mind that. In exchange, he will never be your perfect father figure. He will cradle you with his imperfection and wish that this feeling makes you happy if nothing else.

You offer what you want, and he takes what is given because he wants it. Badly, he wants it, even if he is unwilling to admit the possibility of that being real.

He wants to stay like this, to keep picking you up, even when lifting your weight and gathering you in his arms grows harder each time. He wants to watch you nestle against him, mark your height on the doorframe every month, take care of you when you're sick, worry about someone other than himself, and make room for you in a place where there should be none. He wants to give you what you were almost robbed of, see you make friends and smile each day.

For now, he must start small, no more than sitting in front of what probably looks like jumbled garbage to you and resting his hand on the back of your head to pull you closer in a rare show of affection. Gentle. He is entirely unused to the idea of being gentle and protective of something that lives and breathes.

Dottore hates the very idea of your existence meaning something to him — a visceral reaction to the unfamiliar — but cannot resist the vulnerability of it all, the thought of loving someone who loves him back in a way he has yet to fathom, though he is not so presumptuous as to mindlessly believe you love him, even now. You would not be asked to point to your father and turn to him, but you don't have to. Something in that thought is exciting, a desperate grasp at unconditional love from something he cares for, even against his will, but this middle ground somewhere between babysitter and father is as comfortable as anything he wants will get.

[johnwickb1tsch]

Sympathy for the Devil ~ Part 8

A Donaka Mark x housekeeper!Reader fic, based on @discoscoob 's concept & bot! Warnings: Donaka Mark is a bad man with a soft spot for you. dark romance, possessive behavior, nonconsensual voyeurism, red flag red flag girl!🔺, psychological games, power imbalance, eventual dubcon/nsfw.

one. two. three. four. five. six. seven.

Eight. 八

After that encounter in the screening room, you are extra vigilant as you go about your days, to not get caught in a room alone with Donaka Mark. It's not that you think he will hurt you...just that you don't think you would have the strength to resist him again. But a few days later the staff is in a flurry getting ready for a dinner party to entertain some of Mr. Mark's clients and friends, and you don't have time to think about it at all.

Later, you have been conscripted to help in the kitchen. You dare ask the cook, Mrs. Wong, what tou zai yee means. She is busy prepping food, so she impatiently answers, “Rabbit. Little cute rabbit. Wash these.” She shoves a bushel of bok choy at you, and you get to work. Maybe you defy Donaka Mark on the reg, but Mrs. Wong? You aren’t crazy. 

You help the kitchen staff with serving for the party. The guests are all well heeled and glamorous, which is to be expected. But there is one woman who clearly has her sights set on Mark, laughing at his jokes and finding any and every reason to touch him, placing her manicured hand bedecked in a ruby the size of a quail's egg on his arm--who you cannot help but feel utterly spiteful towards. You keep your eyes down, praying Mr. Mark won't see it on your face.

Donaka enjoys the bustle of the party, his staff scurrying around like minions to wait on him and his guests. It makes him feel powerful, but the greatest satisfaction comes from watching you, watching her fawn over him.

She is absolutely gorgeous, undoubtedly rich, and you feel...stupid, and small as a little mouse. Donaka seems to be enjoying her attentions, and you wonder if she will stay, after all the other guests have gone. Of course he would seek the company of a woman more his equal. All you could ever be to him is a plaything to pass the time in between more glamorous assignations.

Donaka eats it up as the beautiful woman continues to touch his arm, continues to laugh and throw herself at him, clearly desperate to be close to him. His eyes dart over to where you are standing on the other side of the room, watching him between offering drinks to his guests on a tray. He decides to teach you a lesson.

You know its ridiculous, but you are green with envy, as Donaka ducks to say something in her ear, and the two of them disappear from the room. Going to the garden, maybe, or his office. Or even...his bedroom. The thought of it makes you physically ill...and knowing that you’ll have to change the sheets, tomorrow...Goddammit. You have to leave the room to compose yourself, finding that you are trying not to cry.

Donaka walks out of the room, his hand holding onto the woman’s slender arm, her laughing and giggling at his side. He leads her down the hall, not paying attention to the way she keeps talking, her hand touching his arm, her body practically pressed against his. You never see where they go. You stay in the kitchen the rest of the night, helping to clean up the mess.

It's late when everyone has finally left. You are the last one in the living room, tidying everything, cleaning up some broken glass hiding under a chair from one of the guests.

Donaka silently joins you, standing in the doorway of the sitting room when the guests are all finally gone, watching you pick up glass from a broken champagne flute, admiring your skirt riding up your thighs as you crawl on the floor. When you finally stand you gasp to find his towering dark figure there. You’d thought that he'd retired, possibly with that beautiful woman he'd had on his arm. The thought of her makes you stew inside all over again.

“You did a good job tonight,” he says, his voice low as he steps into the room.

"Thank you, sir. I think...your party was a success." Everyone seemed to enjoy themselves immensely at his expense.

Donaka hums softly at your words, closing the space between the two of you until he’s towering over you. “Mmm, yes,” he says. “Everyone had a good time. Especially me.”

The bastard just can’t restrain himself from rubbing it in. 

You exhale through your nose, practically squirming with the effort to remain professional. "I'm glad, sir." He certainly enjoyed himself with that woman. Your hand clenches involuntarily–on the broken glass you’d been cradling so carefully before. You yelp at the pain, the shard stuck in your palm, blood bright as cinnabar welling forth. "Shit," you curse, dashing for the kitchen before you can drip on his expensive silk rugs.

The kitchen is deserted as you go to the sink. The razor-sharp shard is really embedded in the meat of your palm, and you feel light headed just looking at it. You fucking little idiot, you admonish yourself. Well, you hope Donaka enjoys the reaction he got out of you. You wish you were better at shutting down your emotions. It’s a skill you could really use about now. Tears well in your eyes, and your injury is only half to blame. 

“Let me see.” His deep voice comes from somewhere behind you, and you shake your head. His help is the last thing you want right now. 

“I’m fine, Sir,” you say through gritted teeth. “Please don’t bother yourself.” 

But then the solid line of his warmth is behind you, so close, and he reaches around your smaller form with those long arms, taking charge of your injured hand in his. He clicks his tongue at the sight of it. 

Your first instinct is to shy away, but he pins you against the cabinetry with a low, warning growl. “Be still,” he commands, and for once, you obey, every cell in your body aware of this man pressed against your back. You can hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears, your breathing shallow, and not just because of his weight pressing into you. 

Maybe you will pass out. That would serve him right.

“If you’re squeamish, don’t look,” he instructs, and before you can say a thing he’s plucked the glass from your skin, and replaced it with a dish towel, holding pressure on your wound.  "You should be more careful."

You clench your jaw, biting down on your first, second, and third scathing replies. 

A good thirty seconds pass, before you’re able to offer the appropriate, “Yes, Sir.” 

For once, this meek reply does not please Donaka. 

He bends down to speak softly in your ear. “You think I fucked her?”

Furious, you struggle again, to absolutely no avail. His hips and muscular thighs brace you into the edge of the sink, his arms are around you and his hands are holding yours–you’re the one who’s fucked, and not in any nice way. 

“Answer me.” 

You’re pretty sure he can hear you grinding your teeth. 

“Yes,” you admit, sounding as small and miserable as you feel inside. 

“Why would you care, if all you do is run from me?”

Therein lies the million dollar question. You realize tears are rolling down your cheeks when you feel the moisture dripping from your chin. 

“Because I’m an idiot,” you answer, your throat suddenly raw. 

“I know you’re not stupid. Try again.” 

“You’re being cruel,” you protest, praying that somewhere, deep down, this man might possess a modicum of compassion for you. 

“I am seeking the truth, y/n. What more noble pursuit is there in life?”

You laugh, a ragged outburst of sound. You can’t tell if he’s being serious, or his usual sardonic self. Either way, it’s a spring trap set for you with big sharp teeth. 

“I think you pursue truth for the power in it, Mr. Mark. That’s hardly noble.”

You feel him chuckle behind you, more than hear it. How right you were. The security business paid well, but he made his first real fortune plying secrets gleaned from all his cameras watching the wealthy. Some of those secrets were worth more when kept,  and some, worth more sold. 

 “Touché. Fine. We’ll trade. I’ll tell you that I would sooner go to bed with a viper, than that woman tonight.” 

You are not proud of the way you relax in his hold, even if minutely, at hearing that unexpected confession.  “This is none of my business, Sir,” you try to evade.

“Nice try. Now you tell me why that information pleases you.”

“I need to bandage my hand.”

Goddammit if the first aid kit isn’t easily in reach for him. He doesn’t even have to let go of you, to take it down from the overhead cabinet and flip open the lid, carefully removing the towel to administer to your wound with an alcohol wipe and a bandage, all while still trapping you in the circle of his arms. “I’m still waiting,” he tells you, as he wraps your palm with gauze neatly. 

“I think you’ve done this before,” you deflect, floundering for anything else to talk about. 

“A few times.” 

“I guess it’s not a party until someone bleeds…” 

This earns you a huff of laughter. “You have no idea…” 

You’re not sure why his answer unsettles you. When he fastens the end of your gauze you feel a little like a mummy. This was probably overkill, but you were glad for the distraction. You fear the interim is over, when his big hand moves to hold the front of your throat, ever so lightly. It’s possessive, and titillating, and not half so off-putting as it should be. 

“Y/n?” 

“Sir.” 

“I want to hear you say it.” 

With the solid, scalding line of his body pressed against your back, you can feel his heartbeat drumming against your spine, and the bulge of his arousal against you too. It’s all so maddening that you think you might have slid to the floor on your weak knees, if not for him pinning you. You’re going to have an indent in your skin from the edge of the sink biting into your flesh. Your silence stretches on, your body trembling in his arms. You’re not sure you could form a word, even if you knew what to say. 

You have no idea how to quantify your feelings for Donaka Mark. He scares you and fascinates you. He’s so handsome it hurts, but even so, if that had been the sum total of your attraction you could have gotten over it. It’s the way he looks at you, speaks to you–challenges you. Your libido votes to climb him like a tree and fuck him, your higher brain functions insist it’s not worth the price of your soul. As much if not more than your body, this man craves your complete submission. You sense it like a coming storm.

“I’d prefer you to let go of me.”

Again, you feel him growl behind you more than hear it. 

Maybe it's the alcohol he consumed that evening, or the sight of the blood, the act of caring for you. His control is paper thin tonight, and he just can't stop himself from shifting his hold to your jaw, tilting your head up to him, and pressing his mouth to yours.

You always thought a kiss from Donaka Mark would be a soul-searing act of domination–something that bordered on pain. Brutal tongue and clashing teeth and those long fingers tangled in your hair–you can hardly believe it, when this powerful man is actually considerate of you, big hands that could snap your neck holding you with care, his plush lips and his clever tongue sliding against yours. He is not exactly gentle, releasing you only so that he can turn your body in his arms, pressing your front to his. He takes what he wants, and does not apologize for it 

Yet you also feel he is asking you a question with this kiss, and even though you have turned to jelly in his capable hands, your answer is still this: that you are a coward, and maybe a cynic too. 

You cannot believe that Donaka Mark could truly be so caring. It is the enticing glow of the angler fish’s lure, so pretty and soft–beyond lays a monster with teeth waiting to devour you. 

You’ve never wanted to chance it so badly in your life, but in the end self-preservation wins again. 

He actually lets you slide from his grasp, until the last part of you that is touching is your seeking mouths. You hold your hands behind your back, so that you do not reach out for him, the way you really want to.  

You draw back to look up at him, his pupils blown so wide his eyes are truly the jet black of a shark’s. This is the reality of your situation: he is the king of the reef–you are naught but a tasty little angelfish. You are not clever enough, fast enough, mean enough to play with the likes of this man. He would eat you alive. 

Wide eyed, it’s all you can do to shake your head, your words caught in your throat until you’ve backed away a few steps. “I’m sorry…I can’t.” Donaka watches you disbelievingly, as you flee him, yet again, on those quick little feet. 

With a fist clenched at his side, he decides this will be the last time. A seething storm roils within him, and you have no idea the beast you have unleashed in rejecting him, when Donaka Mark offered you tenderness over an iron fist. 

You are going to be sorry.

[thefourthwifeoftengenuzui]

May I please ask for headcanons Aoba Johsai with a manager whose skilled with archery and sharpshooting please

Yes of course! Sorry for the wait I was working on a Rindou piece and my physics exam. It’s like 3Am right now, but I still want to finish this for you boo. Thanks again For requesting Anon, if you like this, don’t forget to like and ask if you have any other ideas. Also, you didn’t specify which you wanted, so this can be interpreted as romantic or platonic. Status: unedited

warnings: crackfic, bad grammar, cursing, violence, oikawa exists, oikawa slander, color coded characters, reader is a whole ass menace, mentions of vaping

🩵🤍Aoba Josai With a Sharpshooter/ Archer Manager🤍🩵

As a Team (platonic)

Oikawa, Iwazumi, Kunimi, Kiyotani, Kindaichi, Matsukawa, you

My first thought when I looked at this post was simple. How many times and we hit oikawa in the head. Everything else kinda spiraled from there. Just imagine being able to do that shit with pinpoint accuracy, and when he turns around to see who did it, be like the gremlin chick from hotel transilivania and be like ,” I didn’t do that”. And then he proceeds to blame Iwa, and pure unrefined chaos erupts from there. *clears throat and sips matcha* good shit

But on a more serious note, these boys are completely ready to take full advantage of your skills. Remember when oikawa sprained his ankle? Guess who had to replicate his serves instead so they could practice receives. That’s right, you. And your aim is a little too good sometimes (Kindiachi has been hit in the face) but they honestly don’t care, they just looking to get practice in, and maybe a few tips here and there for aiming.

But that’s just during their practice. During your archery or other practice. Oh my god. Imagine having like 12 annoying older brothers. Like both Archery and Sharpshooting are pretty quiet sports. But with these mfs at your practice? Oh dear lord. These gon be the most obnoxiously loud humans to walk the planet (3rd only to Fukurodani and Kurasuno). Imagine with me. It’s so silent you can hear a pin drop. You’re trying to concentrate before you’re pulling back your string. You take a deep breath and just as you’re about to let go- “WOOOOOOOO THATS MY LIL SISSSSSS/BROOOO!!!” “SHUT UP SHITTY KAWA!THEY NEED TO FOCAS!” “HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW IWA!?” “YOU WOULD KNOW IF YOU WEREN'T SUCH AN DUMBASS!” “IF YALL DONT SHUT THE FUCK UP ILL SHUT YOU UP MYSELF” yeah they’re THAT kind of sports parents. They got kicked out last time :)

I just know yall have made oikawa put an apple on his head and see if you can hit his head. Ofc you can, but it’s funnier hitting him with the Velcro arrows and watching him rip his hair out, and ruining it for the day (his fangirls hated you for that lol.)

I just KNOW that the other teams got some crazy ass conspiracies about you. They call you the Seijo Assassin, and that you kill the best players of the opposing team, and they never find the bodies. And tbh it was probably oikawa who started it, to get back at you for getting Velcro stuck in his hair. So while you’re just as hot as kiyoko, everyone is terrified of you, and are only referring to you as L/n-sama (even though you’re only a second year.). I swear to fuck hinata pissed himself when tsukki told the team about you.

also yall know the sharpshooter shaving cream balloon prank thingy? I know damn well the whole team is having a competition for who can do it best. Like it’s literally so funny, especially when someone not on the team gets hit. Like I know oikawa has accidentally hit the coach with one of those. Do with this information what you will.

Individuals: Could be romantic or platonic, either way fits (though both are seriously on crack.)

Somehow or someway, Oikawa will convince you to be his bodyguard. And not even like paying you money. Just like a, “ YoU wOnT wALk yOuR pOor dEfEnSLeSS FRiEnD tO cLAss? WhAt iF my FAnGirlS Kidnap MeEEEEE?!” “yep.” “Do you even Love Meeeeeee!?” “Nope.” “…I’ll pay you~” “pay me what?” “Food~” “DONE!” *throws chair out window* yeah y’all’s relationship is pretty much just blitz and stolas in the loo loo land episode. Like when Stolas was just walking while Blitz is pretending to be Batman, lurking in the shadows and pointing a gun at anything with a pulse? Yeah that’s you two walking around the school, except with a nerf gun instead.

oh and you know the team jackets? He bought you yours. But not just any jacket oh no. Yours is special. He payed extra to have it say, “The Seijo Assasin; Oikawa’s bobyguard.” He also might have gotten it in 4xl because he doesn’t know your size, but still wants it to be way to big on you so he can make fun of you. He’s an ass.

Iwazumi is much nicer on the other hand. He (regardless of if it’s platonic or romantic,) is all about helping you carry your stuff. He doesn’t even ask either, he just kinda picks it up and does it. He says it isn’t a big deal, and that you’re carrying enough with your archery equipment anyway, and that he needs the weight training anyway. Def the kinda guy to use your backpack as a dumbbell and use it to lift while y’all in the hall.

I know y'all have a running competition on who can hit oikawa in the head the most. Body shots are one point, head shots are worth 2, and the groin is worth 3, especially if he’s being creepy to someone. The score is currently 34-31, slightly in your favor. Whoever hits him the least by the end of the month has to buy the winner ramen. Oikawa doesn’t approve of this game, and ends up attempting to bump everything back your way. But on the bright side, it’s a good way to scare off his fangirls :).

Kunimi just kinda vibes with you. Like he doesn’t really acknowledge much of what you do, just kinda goes like, “ oh so that’s why you were so good at that. I just thought you hated oikawa. Anyway can I have your Chez-its?” Yeah my boy don’t care enough, but he cute so yeah.

also I just know this mf, plays Fortnite and vapes blue raspberry burst. Do with that what you will. ( to be clear, I wouldn’t ever vape, i just know he does, and honestly had to look up what flavors there are.

The honesty biggest thing you do that impresses him is the whole good aim card slicey thingy. Idk man, he just seems like he would be good at that, and would try to fight you on it.

Despite everything, Kyotani is actually relatively nice to you? Or at least as nice as he can be. His version of nice is avoiding you like the plague, cause he’s scared you’ll be scared of him. He actually really likes you and wants an excuse to talk to you. So what does he do? Asks you to help him aim while spiking, so that he can use his strength more efficiently. He actually is pretty patient with your teaching, and genuinely respects you enough to take your advice. ( tell him to shower pls, I can smell him through the screen, luv him though)

He also uses a whole bottle of axe body spray every time he walks out of the house . Be careful not to get too close to him. Please find someone strong, or stupid enough to bully him out of it, for the sake of the teams lungs🙏

Kindaichi is probably the only person on the team who still calls you Y/n- senpai. He’s way too precious. That being said, he still did give you a twenty if you hit kageyama with a vollyball during warmups. He may be nice, but he mad petty. And $20 is $20 man

Matsukawa is definitely a COD type of guy. He knows a lot about guns. Bond over that (then give me his number pls)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading, sorry the last part was rushed, I am just not feeling it rn. If y’all liked this make sure to follow, Like, and request something of your own. I literally have nothing else to do. Love y’all sm, peace

-joden

[rhiannonsknife]

I'm sick :( I need Rhiannon to comfort me fr

oh no, get well soon anon!! here are some rhiannon hcs for you <3

rhiannon who becomes your personal nurse and care taker.

if you thought she was protective before, you wouldn’t believe how she gets when you’re getting sick. rhiannon might not seem like the nurturing type at first glance but that whole facade cracks the moment she notices you’re coming down with something. suddenly, her focus narrows entirely on you, her usual edge softened by concern. turns out she’s almost oddly skilled at taking care of you, probably because of all the years spent cleaning up her own messes (or other people’s…) she knows exactly where to find the thermometer, has a bottle of cough syrup in her cupboard that she swears isn’t expired, and somehow remembers all the proper doses of medicine off the top of her head. “here, take this” and with that she’ll press the pills into your hand, a glass of water already in the other. when you raise an eyebrow at her efficiency, rhiannon shrugs. “what, you think this is my first time playing nurse?”

rhiannon who works from home whenever you’re sick so that she can be there for you.

she stays with you all day, restocks your tissues, binge watches all your favorite shows with you on the couch, or goes on a pharmacy run without being asked, returning with a bag full of remedies. “alright, i got cold medicine, cough drops, and this weird herbal tea…pick your poison,” she says, dumping the haul on the coffee table. later, when you start to drift off, your head heavy against her shoulder, she goes quiet as she adjusts the blanket over you. “you’re lucky you’re sick,” she murmurs, almost too quiet for you to hear. “otherwise, i’d never let you get away with this” she pretends to be annoyed by all the caregiving, but she’s secretly touched when you lean on her.

rhiannon, who’s surprisingly patient with you. 

she’s usually the type to lose her temper quickly. rhiannon’s the type to lose her shit over the smallest things (a lost phone charger, slow wi-fi, an overcooked meal…) but now, even when you’re grumbling or too exhausted to answer her properly, she doesn’t snap. no one else but you would ever get away with that. instead, she surprises even herself by being uncharacteristically calm. she doesn’t push you to eat or drink more than you can manage, but she’ll gently remind you to take your medicine on time and always has an eye on you from across the room. “think you can handle some tea?” she’ll ask gently as she sits down on the couch beside you. “or maybe just a sip of water? here, i’ll help”

rhiannon, who’s more affectionate with you than she’d ever admit around anyone else.

when it’s just the two of you, her carefully practiced guard drops completely. it’s always like this, but she enjoys it even more when she gets to care for you simultaneously. she’ll brush your hair out of your face, tuck the blankets around you, and sit by your side quietly. “your hair’s a mess,” she murmurs, her fingers ghosting over your forehead. “want me to run you a bath?” when you hum a quiet yes, her hand lingers for a moment before she stands. “alright,” she says softly, glancing at you like she’s making sure you’re still comfortable before she heads toward the bathroom. “you stay put. don’t even think about moving until i come get you!”

rhiannon, who’s even more protective over you when you’re sick.

if anyone tries to disturb you or suggest you should “power through” your illness, rhiannon will shut them down if given the chance. “she’s resting” she’ll say if someone makes a comment like: “oh, it’s just a little cold! she’ll be fine,” “unless you’re a doctor or a pharmacist, kindly mind your own business!” then she’ll turn back to you, all soft concern again. “you’re not moving an inch! don’t let anyone tell you otherwise” even when you start feeling better, she’s still overly cautious. the first time you try to suggest going out or doing something mildly active, she immediately talks you out of it: “no. you’re staying in. i didn’t spend all week playing nurse just for you to keel over the second you step outside!” “but i feel fine,” you protest weakly. “right” she deadpans, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. “face it, you’re stuck with me, and i’m not letting you undo all my hard work!”

rhiannon, who will absolutely guilt trip you once you’re feeling better.

once you’re fully recovered, she milks her role as the “long-suffering girlfriend” for all it’s worth, sighing dramatically every time you ask her for even the smallest favor. “oh, you need me to grab the remote for you now?” sure, because i didn’t just spend days making sure you didn’t die of the plague” you can’t help but chuckle a little. but if you dare roll your eyes, she’ll double down with an exaggerated groan. “oh, you’re denying it now? fine, i’ll keep a list next time you’re sick. medicine at 3am? check. homemade soup? check. listening to you snore like a bloody chainsaw? double check” but, as much as she’s pretending like it was such an inconvenience, you both know rhiannon loves to take care of you!! <3

[forbebeandjam]

Hey!

So how about some kind of fluff maybe also some angst with Bada who has a girlfriend who’s like really weak (maybe some chronic illness) and also has back problems that affect her daily life, but still decides to dance.

maybe that reader is practicing some dance and kind of like overworks her self and passes out in front of bada.

you can also add maybe Bada being a bit mad at reader for not listening to her body and stuff.

Thank you!

(you can ignore this if you don’t write this kind of stuff :p)

Secret Pain | Bada Lee x Reader | fluff, angst

Summary: You bite your suffering from your girlfriend to make things easier for her.

Word Count: 2k

A/N: I’m back!! I’m so happy to write again. Work has been killing me but I’m surviving. I’ll try to write more but for now I hope this isn’t too bad. Love you all🤍

~🤍~

"Five. Six. Seven. Eight!" you followed the dance count.  

It had been three years since you first started dating the wonderful dancer teaching the class. She was the definition of perfection to you. Tall, beautiful, kind, and funny. You loved taking her classes. 

The way the passion shined in her eyes was like medicine for you. A medicine no doctor could ever give you. You have been keeping this a secret from her as well. 

You were sick. You had a chronic bone illness that limited you to certain harsh activities like... dancing. Yeah, you hated it but then you met Bada. She made you want to dance. The fiery passion in her eyes would drive you crazy. 

At first, she was just a good friend, but you two started to notice that the feelings were more than just a friendship. Bada would always call you and ask you to go with her to the dance studio. 

You were there when she became a big choreographer, when she struggled with her confidence, and even when she bought her first studio. Every day she would remind you of how special you were to her.  And she was special to you as well but you decided that there was no reason to tell her about your illness. 

"You did really good, baby! You're getting better each day," she said as she wrapped her arms around you and kissed your cheek. 

"Thank you," you said as you tried to catch your breath. 

"Are you okay? You are way more out of breath than normal," she asked as she took a look at you face. You tried to look away. 

"yeah, I think I'm catching a cold. My body hurts," You said. And it wasn't a lie. Your bones were aching. You wanted to go home to your secret medicine stash and make the pain go away. 

"Oh, we should go home then. Girls, I'm leaving early today. See you tomorrow, okay?" she said to her teammates. They all waved goodbye and you both headed to your shared home. 

"Babe, I'm gonna make some soup and tea for you," she said as soon as you walked through the door. 

"Sounds good. I'm gonna go take some medicine for the cold," you announced and headed to the room. You took your indicated medicine and sighed. You were sprawled on the bed waiting for the medicine to kick in but the pain was almost unbearable. 

At that moment, you realized you might have to tell Bada sooner or later about this. You didn't want to scare her or leave her at any student moment without her knowing. You closed your eyes and tried to calm your body. That's when a plan came into your head.

You stood up and walked towards the kitchen. The aura was cozy. The house smelled like fresh eucalyptus and peppermint. The lights in the living room were slightly dimmed and there was candles lit in the center of the coffee table. 

She was dipping the tea bag into the mug with steaming water as you walked to her. She flashed you a soft smile but it faded when she saw your face. 

"Baby, your face is pale. Are you sure you're feeling okay?" she asked and you nodded with a sigh. 

"I am simply tired. I'm sure if I eat and rest I will be fine," you said and she agreed. 

You sipped on your tea while she placed a bowl of warm soup in front of you and sat down. 

"You're not eating?" you asked and she shook her head. 

"I already had a bite when you were in the room and I want you to eat. I like watching you," she said. You giggled and started to cool down the soup on the soop before directing it to your mouth. 

"I wanted to suggest something," you said and she gave you that warm smile as she widened her eyes in excitement. 

You loved talking to her. To Bada, your voice was like the most satisfying thing. She could hear you talk for hours without saying a word. She would just look at you with those enchanting eyes and a dumish smile. 

"So, I know you've been crazy busy with work and everything else. We barely have time for a real date so I was thinking that you and I could go on a date tomorrow. We spend the morning going to our favorite places and just having fun. Then we can go to dance classes and and the day with a romantic dinner," you said as you pushed the soup to the side. You'd tell her about your illness during the dinner.

Her eyes lit up in excitement and you could feel yourself fall her all over again. She was more comforting than the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the morning. More loving than the sweet harmony of a love song. 

"That is a great idea, love. I'll make a reservation in our favorite restaurant. Why don't you go to rest?" She said and you nodded. You were urged to take a warm shower and get under the covers so you did. 

As you lay in bed, millions of thoughts circle your mind. You didn't even notice Bada enter the room, shower, and dry her hair. That was until she wrapped her arms around your torso pulling you into her warm embrace. 

"Sleep well, baby," she whispered into your ear. You smiled and let her warmth wrap you as you drifted off to sleep. 

-

The following morning you work up earlier than Bada. You took your meds and got ready for the day. She woke up right after you and changed into her clothes. Her outfit consisted of a pair of flowy pants and a cropped tank top. 

She wrapped her air into a bun and added a cap. She tied her sweater around her waist and added jewelry to finish her look. 

You put on your acid-washed jeans, a tank top, and a large pink zip-up hoodie. As you were both walking out of the house, she gave you a peck on the lips, knowing that she couldn't show that kind of affection in the streets of Seoul. 

You smiled and hugged her tightly. You two started going to her car and drove to a breakfast place. She ordered breakfast and then drove to the park from your first date. You two ate breakfast, took a walk, and played around on the slides and swings. 

Then, you went to the movies and watched your favorite rom-com. The day was filled with your laughs and giggles. Bada adored your smile. She said if she could fame it on every frame of the house she would. 

Lastly, you went to grab a bite before dance classes. You felt a bit tired and had a small headache. You saw Bada placing the order and she turned to you to flash you a small eyesmile. Your heart felt warm but the sudden action but then you remembered. 

Bada would have to live without you one day. One day not too far since you couldn't seem to care for your body. You started to tear up and bit your lip. A sad mood took over you and you started to forget how to breathe. You looked around and saw Bada rushing to you. 

"Y/N, what's wrong?" she said as she cupped your face. 

"Oh, no... it's nothing. I'm sorry. I was thinking about something sad," you said as you wiped your tears and smiled. 

"Are you sure?" she asked and you nodded. She walked back to the cashier and paid for the food. 

She didn't ask any further questions when you became the same bubbly person you always were. 

So you went to dance classes. By this time you felt completely exhausted but you brushed it off, knowing that you would get to go to a romantic dinner with your favorite person after all. you removed your hoodie and tried to warm up but your bones could not resist the pain. 

You sighed and stepped at the back. Bada's eyes seemed to be glued on you and you just flashed her a smile. She started teaching the routine and you followed it to the best of your ability. The class was almost over and by this time, your breathing was more hitched. 

You rested your hands on your knees and tried to breathe. The pain was killing you but you didn't want to cut your evening short. You thought you could resist but when you got back up, your vision became blurry and your body abruptly hit the floor. 

-

As your vision adjusted to the light in the room, you could hear a steady beep. 

'Not the hospital again,' you thought. 

You opened your eyes to find Bada holding your hand with a worried expression. Your eyes watered when you saw her and she shook her head. 

"It's okay. Please don't cry. It will all be alright," you said as you sat up. and kissed her hand. 

She nodded. The doctor came into the room. 

"I gave you stronger medicine but... you need to take better care, okay? You know this will get worse over time if you aren't doing what you're supposed to and taking your medicine at the right hours. I gave you some exercises you can do and your limitations," he handed you the sheet and you nodded. 

"Now, as for restrictions. Only one thirty minutes to an hour of dancing and no harsh workouts. You can go out for walks, not runs. Try to eat lots of green and bone broth. It's all in there. We want you to get better. You can get better but you need to follow my instructions. You can go now," The doctor said. You nodded and he left the room. 

Bada was sitting in the chair looking away. You could see a mixture of sadness and anger in her face. You felt bad for hiding this from her so you took her hand in yours and she turned to look at you. 

"What's going on, Y/N?" she asked with a broken voice. 

Your heart almost broke when you realized how much pain she was currently in. The amount of pain you caused her. Your eyes teared up to see her watery eyes. You had made her worry countless times before and you regretted everything. 

"I am sick. My bones are weak and I take medication. I have restrictions and such but I never follow them. Many doctors told me that there was no cure and that I should just enjoy my life to the fullest so I tried to but it was hard," you paused feeling your throat close up. 

"That was until I met you.  You looked as beautiful as ever. You were sweet and passionate about everything you did and, how could I not love you? I tried to push you away many times for fear that I might end up hurting you. All I wanted to do was spend my last days with you since I have no one else to live for. I love you. I am so sorry," you said as she wiped her tears away. 

"Please promise me that you will never hide things away from me. I want to be part of every single thing in your life. I want to care for you and cheer you up when you need it," she said. 

"But..." You were about to protest when she kissed your lips. 

"Promise me, please?" she said. You were so confused and your head was in the clouds due to that kiss that all you could do was nod with a shy smile. 

From that day on, Bada made sure to always take care of you. She limited your dance time but still made sure you had an amazing time while you were at the studio. She helped you with your workouts, made your favorite foods, and always ensured you had a shoulder to cry on. She made sure you were never, ever alone.

Thank you for reading🩵