#sometimes you have to wait and go through the less desirable motions

[inquisitornocturn]

⊱─ 𝕖𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕕𝕚𝕠𝕣 ─⊰

➺ 𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: Ascended Astarion/f!reader the vampire bride

➺ 𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕤: no y/n is used, rating - T, just fluff, your Vampire Lord sure knows how to make you feel special

➺ 𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: Astarion has been gone for couple weeks, making you miss him terribly, but when he finally returns he brings a gift to make up for his prolonged absence. and what a gift that is.

➺ 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 2,176

𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖: written for a discord server event, just a little fluff piece because i wanted to explore how Astarion would give a gift to his beloved. enjoy! <3

Your life in the palace has been peaceful so far. Well, as peaceful as it can be while living with a Vampire Ascendant who loves to entertain himself with parties, masquerades and a good-hearted murder here and there. However, you signed up for this life willingly and you couldn’t be happier. Still, parties can be exhausting, but when Astarion notices you acting less than cheery, he halts everything and gives you peace and quiet in the palace until you suggest to him to have another celebration. Eternity is full of delights and you two haven’t shared even a fraction of ‘forever’ yet, so you both take it slow, why rush when you have the evermore?

Nonetheless, before fully settling in Baldur’s Gate, you spent first few decades traveling. From one end of Faerûn to another, tasting everything life has to offer. Not needing to fear the sun, you both strolled through the streets of every city worth visiting and stalked the nights when you needed to feed. Astarion joined you quite often. And while his own desire for blood is near gone entirely, he still enjoys a good hunt, especially in your company.

But eventually you have returned home, to the palace you both carefully refurbished before leaving. After settling back in, Astarion began preparing his plans, just like he spoke years back – to make Baldur’s Gate his domain. And you settled as his Consort – managing servants, provisions, planning parties and eventually - Astarion’s and your own spawn. He carefully chooses every single person to turn into his spawn, while you are generally more lax about it, and he trusts you to make sure that they all behave. But sometimes they do misbehave, as spawn tend to, and when that happens Astarion has to punish them, sparing you the trouble of doing it yourself. You’re not averse to getting your hands dirty, but in those times you stand by your lover’s side and watch with pride how your beloved manages those lesser than him. They all deserve it after all.

Some more years pass in a wonderful bliss. But Astarion’s plans only begin to come into motion. To keep them moving as he wants them to your Vampire Lord has to travel. Sometimes for weeks, leaving you alone to manage your mutual estate. In his absence you don’t feel lonely, but you do miss him terribly, anxiously waiting for his return. At least he sends a messenger bat to you every other day, informing you about what he’s doing and always telling you just how much he wants you by his side. You have a feeling that soon he will stop going alone and will begin taking you with, just because he’s growing more possessive, wanting to make sure that you’re safe and thriving, and to him – that’s only possible when you’re at his side. Not that you could argue with that. Your entire soul aches when he’s absent.

And such you find yourself in this state again. Anxious, nervous, and longing for your lover to come home. Astarion has been gone for two weeks this time, longest yet, and for the third day now you keep wandering the palace, feeling increasingly irritable, snapping at servants and spawn alike, punishing them for minor transgressions. You need Astarion, you crave to be in his arms again, you feel like you’re falling apart the longer you’re away from him. Finest wines and freshest blood can’t lull the ache in your very soul that you’re feeling.

“My Lady, the Lord has returned.” you hear behind you and you immediately stop in your tracks. You were pacing in Astarion’s office, restless and almost ready to send another letter via bat because his own letters stopped a week ago, making you worried.

But he returned. At last.

You turn to the servant who immediately gets out of the doorway when you rush. Your footsteps are fast, you’re holding the front of your long, lavish dress so that you don’t trip. One flight of stairs, then another one. Faster, you have to go faster. If you had a beating heart it would pound in your chest like a dwarven hammer on hot iron.

And then there it is, the last step.

You stop, slightly out of breath, and see that your beloved indeed has returned. Astarion is standing by the main entrance, his clothing and hair are immaculate as always, there’s a smile on his lips but you also see longing in his eyes. Then he opens his arms for you.

“My love!” you cry out and rush to him, the sound of your heels on the tiles fill the room and you let go of your dress just before you fling yourself into Astarion’s embrace.

You hug him with a fierce need and he too wraps his arms around your shoulders, managing to do so before you crash your lips against his. You hear Astarion’s own heart beating fast in his chest and he hugs you even tighter, painfully strong, his fingers digging into your shoulders. You remain locked like this for a long while, kissing each other first in short bursts, smiling, happy to be finally reunited. Then the kisses become longer, deeper and more passionate. You let go of him only to find first two buttons on his doublet, eager to feel his skin against yours, to feel him in a way no one else feels him, or you.

But Astarion catches your fingers with firm elegance and pulls back from your lips. You eagerly want to kiss him again but he just smiles.

“Little treasure, I missed you too, but I brought something for you. Wouldn’t you like to see what it is?” your lover asks and you stop your attempts to steal another kiss.

“What is it?” you ask and dip your head lower, now planting soft kisses on his fingers that hold yours, your heart bursting with love. Astarion’s eyes soften as he watches you and he presses his lips against your forehead briefly.

“Come. I’ll show you.” he whispers and moves from you, taking your hand in his and leading you to the room left from the main entrance. It’s where you greet guests when they arrive, that is, unless the main event is happening in the ballroom.

You follow and inspect Astarion’s appearance as you walk with him, his fingers intertwined with yours. Your beloved doesn’t look any worse than how he did before he left. In fact he looks as he always does – opulent and wonderfully beautiful. You feel relief that nothing happened to him while he was away, but what could even harm the Vampire Ascendant? You know you worry too much but you can’t help it.

“Here it is, my dear.” Astarion stops and you finally look away from him to where he’s gesturing with his left hand.

In front of you, on the floor, sits a medium sized ornate chest. There was a lock on it that now rests on the table nearby and you look at Astarion, your eyebrows raised in an unsaid question.

“Just open it.” he chuckles, obviously pleased with himself. “I got it for you myself. Although I’ll admit it wasn’t an easy task, so you better appreciate it.” Astarion raises an eyebrow and you pause for a moment longer then smile, giving him a nod.

“I’m sure I will.”

You let go of his hand, however unwillingly, and walk to the chest leaning down and slowly opening it. While you do that you feel Astarion’s palm caress your rear and you smile. Oh how you missed these touches. Even though it was just two weeks, it feels like he was gone for eternity.

However, what you see inside shocks you. Your mouth drops open and you lift chest’s lid fully, straightening your back as you stare down, utterly taken aback.

“Is that-“

“A dragon egg, my dear. Indeed it is.” Astarion says with pride and you look at him, the disbelief you’re feeling right now makes you feel like you’re in a dream rather than reality. There is indeed a red dragon egg in the chest, resting on a soft pillow, its opalescent scales softly reflecting the daylight coming in through the windows.

“How did you-“

“Found a lair.” Astarion smugly raises an eyebrow at you. “It’s a red dragon egg. I think it will be quite an addition to our little home, don’t you think?”

You’re still speechless. How in the hells he acquired a dragon egg? And even brought it here? As a gift for you?

“But Astarion, dragons are not pets they are-“ you begin but he rolls his eyes, slightly annoyed now.

“Yes, my dear, I know. You don’t need to give me a lecture about what dragons are and what they aren’t.” he says while taming his irritation, then he turns to you, taking your hands in his, making you fully face him. “You forget that I’m the Vampire Ascendant, love. And you’re my beloved Consort. I’m sure once it hatches you will be able to win its trust and have a companion by your side worthy of you.”

You think it over. Yes, maybe he’s right.

“But why a dragon?” you ask carefully and Astarion scoffs.

“Why not? My coven will survive for eons! A dragon will be a wonderful part of it. To have an ally like this will prove to others that we are not to be trifled with. And you will have something loyal to you and you alone, my treasure. I think you deserve it.” Astarion lets go of your hand and cups the side of your face with a warm palm. His eyes are locked on yours and you see that he truly believes you can convince a dragon, a red dragon above all, to become loyal to you. Well, at least he didn’t steal an egg from a black dragon.

“But what if I fail?” you ask with a tinge of worry in your tone and Astarion sighs, pulling you closer now, his hands finding their usual spots on your hips.

“My dear, I don’t think you are capable of ever failing me.” Vampire Lord smiles and leans closer to your face. “You are perfect in every way, why would you doubt yourself now?” he asks and his lips move over your eyebrow, then down your nose, making you smile and giggle, just like that.

“You put too much faith in me.” you look at him while Astarion trails a row of pecks across your left cheek, making you briefly close an eye when his nose brushes against your eyelashes.

“Everything I have would mean absolutely nothing without you.” he whispers and his eyes meet yours at last as he pulls back just enough to make sure that you see how serious his expression is. “How could I ever doubt you, my lovely Consort? You’re my world. And you will be my world forever.”

Astarion leans in and kisses you again, possessively but also affectionately, like a mere fraction of a thought of you not being in his life makes him fear losing you. His kiss is intense and needy, and you respond in much the same way, holding onto his arms when he fully presses himself against you.

“You’ll do just fine with the egg, my dear. I know you will.” Astarion whispers and you hug him now, your arms move around him; you press your palms onto his back and bury your face in his chest, feeling him begin to stroke your hair.

“Thank you.” you murmur against the fabric of his coat with your eyes closed. You smile and inhale the familiar perfume, letting it fill your lungs. “It’s a very precious gift.”

“Oh I know.” Astarion responds and he sounds like he’s smiling, you think he is. His strokes on your hair are slow and tender. A moment of silence passes before you speak up again.

“Just don’t leave for this long again. I missed you terribly.” it’s easy for you to admit it, he knows that you weren’t yourself without him.

“I won’t, I promise. And if I do need to leave for longer, I will take you with me. Does that sound good, my pet?”

You nod and sigh, relaxing in his embrace.

At last the palace feels much warmer, so much livelier now that Astarion’s back. It’s like stone and iron lost their iciness with your lover present. But no, it’s not that the walls feel more welcoming with your Lord back home, it’s that Astarion is your home. The world is a cold and unwelcoming place but not when you’re with him. Not when you’re in his embrace. Not with his lips pressed against your hair.

And you have forever together. Including, it seems, a dragon to hatch and raise.

You smile while being held by Astarion. Your Vampire Lord sure knows how to give lavish gifts.

You will have to return his kindness later. And you know just the perfect way to do so.

[leonardalphachurch]

@redvsbluesecretsanta present for @thetality !

sorry that she is late chronic fatigue has been absolutely kicking my ass please give love to @donut-entendre who without his help i would not have been able to finish this 🙏

thetality asked for something with theta and/or caboose so i decided to go with modern au fluffy bonding stuff. bc the world needs more theta caboose friendship

(also available to read on ao3)

***

Waffles Time

Theta wakes up at 3am scared and alone. Caboose takes it upon himself to make them feel a little less alone.

This can only mean one thing: it’s waffles time.

Blink. Blink blink.

Theta rubbed the sleep out of their eyes.

Wait.

Theta rubbed the sleep out of their eyes?

Oh.

Their mind was quiet, but for a buzzing of anxiety and stress. No one else was there. No welcoming. No arguing.

They looked around. The time on their watch read 2:35. AM. A message popped up. An unknown number.

They looked around. Their phone lay on the floor across the room. Even from their place on the bed, Theta could see the screen had been shattered. A dent in the wall above it.

Oh.

Theta took off their watch.

It wasn't long before footsteps lingered in the hall, pausing in front of their door.

"Church?"

Oh no.

Theta didn’t want to talk to Alpha’s friends. They didn’t want to have to answer questions and be looked at and judged and—

“Um. Please go away please.”

“Yeeeaaah... No… Are you okay? Did you also have a nightmare? Because…"

Theta fumbled for the lamp, flicking it on and wincing at the sudden brightness. Their things were a little bit everywhere.

“... but I get those all the time. Sometimes my dad dies again and-"

Boxers. Why did Alpha have to sleep in just a night shirt and boxers? The leg of a pair of sweatpants poked out of a pile on the bed. They quickly pulled it on.

“... I always hate the marshmallow dreams because Tucker always eats them all and there isn't any left… Hey, you're really quiet today!”

Oh, right. Alpha wasn’t very nice to his friends, was he.

“No I’m very normal!” Theta shouted at the door, “um. Fff.. fuck, you.” They winced at their own words.

The doorknob clicked horribly as the man pushed in.

Theta ducked under the covers. “Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry.”

“Oh, you don't have to be sorry for locking the door! It was already broken - which wasn't anyone's fault - Did you forget again? I can remind you any time."

That… wasn’t why they were apologizing. But for some reason, it did help ease Theta’s worries. They peeked out from under the covers.

Towering over the bed was Caboose, complete with messy bedhead and big warm pajamas. He looked down at Theta with a large, sleepy grin. When Theta just kept staring back, his expression got contemplative.

Should… should they say something?

But there was no need, as Caboose seemed to suddenly realize something. “Oooohh.... You're the little one!”

“Um….” Theta considered lying, but they would never make a convincing Alpha. “Maybe…”

“Hello little Church!” Caboose launched himself onto the bed, bouncing a little as he landed.

Theta jumped backwards, “Um! H-hi…”

“You don’t have to run away, Little Church, we’re not playing hide and seek.”

“My name is Theta…”

“Okay. You don’t have to run away, Theta, we’re not playing hide and seek.”

“I, I know.” Theta tried to relax. Caboose wasn’t a threat. This they knew. Memories of Alpha’s friends were fuzzy and incomplete, but the emotions bled through. And the emotion Theta felt the most when looking at Caboose was an overwhelming sense of trust.

That didn’t mean that he wasn’t loud, though.

“Can you, um, sorry, um,” Theta tried to communicate their desires without words. Caboose just stared at them, waiting for the words to come. “I… need a shirt.”

It wasn’t what they’d meant to say, but it worked. Theta really wasn’t comfortable with any amount of awareness of the whole “having a body” thing, and wearing just a nightshirt didn’t help with that.

“Oh, yeah I can help with that!”

In one swift motion, too quick for Theta to protest, Caboose had removed his sweater and stuffed it over Theta’s head.

Church’s body wasn’t small by any objective measures, but compared to Caboose…

As Theta pushed their hands through the sleeves, far too large for them to even reach the ends, they felt absolutely tiny.

It was nice.

“Thank you…”

“You’re welcome!”

Caboose looked incredibly pleased with himself, sitting there now in just his own undershirt. Theta wondered if he was cold. Maybe they should give the sweater back. Alpha had a lot of shirts, they could wear any one of those.

As they started the offer, Caboose interjected, “Are you hungry?”

Theta paused. Were they hungry? Interpreting the body’s signals wasn’t always easy. Maybe that buzzing of anxiety was actually a buzzing of hunger. Only then did they notice the half eaten bag of chips on the bedside table. Was whoever last fronted recently snacking?

“I think I’m hungry, yeah.”

“Good! Let’s get Church to make us waffles.”

“Um.” Theta didn’t know what to say to that. They thought all of Alpha’s friends knew how it worked by now. This was the fear. The questions. The judgement. They didn’t know how to be someone else. “I don’t know. Um. Sorry I don’t think. Sorry I don’t. Sorry.”

Caboose stared at them as they nervously stammered out apologies. Finally, something seemed to click.

“Oh! Hm. I guess that doesn’t work. Hmmmmmmmm. Well… We can make it ourselves!”

“Oh… I don’t know how to make waffles…”

“I do! Let’s go!” Caboose announced as he leaped out of bed, racing out of the room.

“W-wait!” Theta scrambled to follow him. They really didn’t want to get out of bed, but they didn’t really want to be alone, either. Nervous to cross the threshold, they hesitated at the door frame.

“Um,” they called to Caboose, peeking slightly out of the door to see where he went, “I don’t think it’s a good idea to cook by ourselves!”

"Yes, it is an awesome idea!" Caboose declared, hanging from the doorway to catch his momentum. "We’ve got blueberries and strawberries and whipped cream and chocolate chips..."

He ducked into the room, his voice fading off, “And goldfish and cheese and mashed potatoes and blueberries and…”

Theta balked as he disappeared. “I wasn’t worried about the toppings…”

They definitely weren’t allowed to cook something at 2:30am… right? They tried to listen to their head, again. To call out to anyone there. Nothing. They wanted Delta, or Epsilon, or even Gamma. Someone in charge. Someone who could take care of things. Someone who could take care of them.

They thought back to the shattered phone on the floor. The message from the unknown number. Why had they fronted? Alone? The buzz of anxiety grew louder. Maybe they should go get their watch. They didn’t know who was texting them, but it clearly wasn’t good. Maybe it would be so not good it could trigger someone else out. Maybe they wouldn’t have to be alone—

“Here!”

Theta jumped at Caboose’s return. They’d been so caught up in their own thoughts they didn’t hear him approach. They blinked as they tried to reground themself, taking in the sight of the large man before them.

Caboose had grabbed a shirt identical to the one he was just wearing, that Theta was now wearing, and he was holding a…

Oh my gosh.

In Caboose’s outstretched hands was a large, LARGE bear plushie. Its huge, round belly was almost the size of Theta’s entire torso. But it’s head, oh man, it’s head was tiny. Barely the size of their fist. It’s arms and legs were stuffed at its sides, the proportions all out of whack. It’s fur looked like the softest thing Theta had ever felt.

It was incredible.

“Wow…”

“And gummy bears!” Caboose wiggled the bear at Theta, its limbs so filled with stuffing they barely flopped around.

“What?”

“We can put gummy bears on the waffles.”

“Oh…” Theta looked at the oversized bear. “Um, then what about?” They gestured at it.

“Oh!” Caboose looked down at the stuffed animal in his hands, almost looking surprised Theta had brought it up, as if he had forgotten it was there. “This is Big Fuck.”

“B- oh.” Maybe Theta would just call it Big.

“I thought he could be your friend. But not your best friend, since we are already best friends."

Theta took the bear— took Big— from Caboose.

“Okay. He doesn’t have to be my best friend, you can keep him."

Caboose tilted his head like a puppy.

"I was talking about you, silly."

“… I’m your best friend?”

"Yes, see, because Church is my best friend, you get part ownership because you are like a little him. And that's how stocks work!"

Theta clutched Big tight to their chest. They didn’t think that was how stocks worked, or how friendship worked but…

“Thank you.”

It was nice to have a friend.

“Yeah! And best friends make each other waffles. Let’s go!”

***

“Are you sure this is all okay to put in waffles?”

“Yes, definitely.”

Theta was sitting on the kitchen table, Big clutched in their lap. Their head peeked out over his, looking at the display Caboose had laid out in front of them. Plates and boxes and bags of junk food, candy, chocolate, frozen fruit, sauces. Leftovers. Theta didn’t think a lot of these things would be yummy. Or could even be cooked.

“Yeah, I’m basically an expert in waffles,” Caboose said, shaking the bottle of Bisquick furiously. You have to do it as fast as possible, he’d said earlier, right before shaking the loose cap off and splattering batter all over the kitchen. Tucker will clean that up later.

Theta plopped another marshmallow into their mouth. Their sticky hands had already left some mats in Big’s fur, but someone would probably clean that up later, too. Probably.

Now, though, they were just having a fun time hanging with their friend.

“Mmm. Okay. I trust you.”

“Good! Watch.” Theta watched as Caboose poured the batter onto the waffle iron. It glooped out, overfilling the squares.

“Cool. Now what?”

Caboose gestured towards the display. “Now you put stuff in it!”

Ooooh yes. This was what Theta was looking forward to. They delicately placed Big onto a chair before going, what some might call, absolutely feral. Some logical part of them said that grabbing handfuls of every sweet that adorned the table and throwing it onto the uneven batter probably wouldn’t end up with a good waffle, but they ignored that part. After all, they were Theta, not Delta.

“Okay! Done.”

Caboose appraised their mountain of sugar-y goodness with serious consideration. Theta grabbed Big again, suddenly nervous about their creation. Caboose narrowed his eyes. Theta held their breath.

“This…………. is a good waffle.” He slammed the iron shut with what was probably way too much force. Even still, Theta beamed.

It didn’t take long until the smell of burnt caramel started wafting from the machine.

“Is that okay…?”

Caboose nodded sagely. “That’s how you know it is going to be good.” In a swift motion, he extricated the waffle from its burning home, planting it squarely on the table.

Theta didn’t think it was supposed to look like that. There was burnt chocolate and bubbling gummies and melted hard candies and uncooked batter. It didn’t get to look ugly for long, though, as Caboose helpfully started pouring on syrup and chocolate and whipped cream.

Theta hadn’t seen this much sugar in their whole life.

“Bone app to eat!” Caboose pushed the waffle in front of Theta.

They grabbed it with both hands (ow. still a little hot.) and took a bite.

Oh….

It wasn’t what most would call “good.” The flavors clashed in ways Theta didn’t have the words to describe, but which Sigma might’ve called “offensive” or “an affront to nature.” But still. It was interesting, and it was sweet, and they were having a lot of fun trying not to spill sugar all over Big’s tummy, so maybe Caboose was onto something.

Caboose looked pleased with Theta’s reaction. They could only guess their expression was some mixture of disgust and intrigue, but they kept eating it, so maybe that’s what Caboose was going for.

Caboose started on his own creation.

Or maybe, Theta thought as they watched him work, “creation” was a generous word for it. Maybe Sigma would call this one “monstrosity.”

Caboose systematically grabbed every single topping they’d laid out on the table. He seemed to consider all of his options with great importance, putting some straight onto the iron, some into the bottle, yet others on the side, presumably to be added later. Once he was happy with his choices, he took the bottle again (being very careful, Theta noted, to make sure the cap was on fully this time) and shook with an incredible vigor. The items on the pan continued to sizzle. He emptied the bottle’s contents into the iron, squeezing to get it out as quickly as possible. Goop dripped over the sides. The ingredients that had been saved for later had now found their later, triumphantly thrown onto the pile.

It was way too tall to be closed, Theta thought.

Well, apparently, they thought wrong.

With somehow even more force than he’d used for Theta’s, Caboose acted like a hydraulic press, crushing the lid into its bottom. And, much like the greatest hydraulic press videos, mess squeezed out the sides in a spectacular fashion.

Theta chewed idly while the scene played out before them.

Caboose gave a thumbs up, his other hand still holding the iron down as it continued to cook.

If before it smelt like burnt caramel, this was just burn. Theta crinkled their nose.

And nearly jumped out of their skin when the fire alarm went off.

Caboose looked at it, both annoyed and quizzical. “I thought I took the life out of you.” He reached up, easily able to pull the alarm off the ceiling, and dumped the batteries out.

He turned back to Theta, “That is how you know it will be really good!”

“What the fuck are you two doing?”

Theta jumped again, clutching Big even tighter to their chest.

There, standing in the hallway, was Tucker, wearing nothing but a nightcap and a blanket.

Well, maybe there was more to describe there, but Theta wouldn’t know, as their eyes were suddenly covered by Caboose’s large hands.

“Tucker! Put some clothes on! There is children here!”

“What??? What are you talking ab— Dude, get the fucking—!”

Theta heard a scuffle. They tried to pry Caboose’s hands away from their eyes, but the man was too strong.

“Hey! Don’t touch my waffle!”

“You’re gonna burn the fucking apartment down!”

“I am not! I know how to contain a fire, Tucker. Excuse me,” Caboose removed his hand from Theta’s eyes and turned to them, “Hold this please.” He grabbed Theta’s hand and put it over their own eyes.

Theta stayed like that for a moment. Then they remembered that they could remove their hand themself, and felt a little silly.

The waffle iron was now unplugged and slightly smoking. An annoyed looking Tucker waved the cord at an equally annoyed looking Caboose.

“You are ruining waffles time.”

“Yeah, like a fire wouldn’t?” Tucker rolled his eyes, then turned towards Theta. “And what the fuck are you even doing?”

Theta’s blood turned to ice.

“I-”

“Do not yell at Theta.”

Caboose was a very large man. It was easy to forget, with his genial demeanor, just how much bigger he was than everyone else. How much stronger he was than everyone else. As Tucker’s eyes widened and he took a step back, staring at Caboose’s uncharacteristically stoic expression, he was certainly remembering.

It was a little nice to have the strong person be the one protecting Theta.

A wave of confusion washed over Tucker’s face as he registered what Caboose had said. “Theta…?” He looked over at them, in Caboose’s oversized pajama shirt, still clutching Big like it was a lifeline, still looking absolutely terrified. And confusion was replaced by realization.

“Oh, shit— uh, shoot, uh— fuck—” Tucker looked down at his blanket, the only thing covering his body, now even looser than it was earlier. He pulled it tighter.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” He whispered at Caboose.

“I said to put on pants.”

“That’s not— look, just,” Tucker sighed, then looked towards Theta, “Don’t eat that, okay?” He pointed at their waffle.

“But we’re hungry!” Caboose protested.

Tucker groaned. “I, will make you guys…” Tucker looked at the waffle iron. A bit of batter filled with leftover chicken and gummy worm slopped onto the counter. It continued to smoke. “Pancakes. Just, go into the living room and let me get dressed.”

“Okay!” Caboose happily bounded away, as if this was his desired outcome all along.

Theta looked down, sheepish. “Sorry…”

Tucker sighed, “It’s fine. This is nowhere near the worst it’s gotten.”

Theta looked up at the batter on the ceiling. Tucker followed their gaze.

He laughed. “Yeah, still not the worst.”

“Okay…” Theta got up from the counter, trying to make themself as small as possible.

“Hey.”

They froze. They looked at Tucker, bracing themself for scolding, yelling, reminders of how terrible they were for letting something like this happen.

But when Tucker spoke, it was soft.

“Next time, just wake me up, okay?” He looked exasperated, but, somehow, Theta could tell he was being genuine.

They nodded.

“Okay.”

Tucker smiled, and went to get dressed, and Theta went to go meet Caboose in the living room.

He was already sitting on the couch, flipping through some list of shows.

“Do you wanna watch something?”

“Um, whatever you want.” Theta plopped down on the couch.

“Okay! I will watch… Pokémon.”

“You like Pokémon?”

“Oh, yeah, sometimes me and Church watch it when Tucker isn’t home.”

“Oh… I didn’t know Alpha still liked Pokémon.”

“Yeah… I don’t know who Alpha is but… Pokémon is good.”

“Um, yeah, it’s my favorite.”

“Yeah.”

They stared at each other for a moment.

“Are you… gonna put on the show?”

“Okay!” Caboose clicked the remote, opening to some random episode in the Gen V seasons. Theta didn’t know the episode, but they could tell because of the art style.

“All right,” Tucker called from the kitchen, “you guys are getting chocolate chip pancakes and that’s it.”

“BUT TUCKER!” Caboose immediately jumped up in his seat. “YOU CAN’T DO THAT! IT’S WAFFLES TIME!”

“You almost burned the house down! I’m not hearing it!”

Caboose bounded over the back of the couch to go yell at Tucker in the kitchen. Leaving Theta alone on the sofa.

Alone.

Theta was alone. They didn’t hear anyone in their mind. Their thoughts drifted back to the cracked phone, the unread message. What had caused them to be here alone in the first place.

But, as they turned around to look back at their friends, arguing over blueberries, as they clung to the largest teddy bear they’d ever seen, supremely sticky with sugar and syrup, as Pokémon blared in the background, a connection to their host they didn’t know they had…

Maybe they weren’t all that alone, after all.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Enneagram wings/types next? OK BET YOU GOT IT I LOVE THIS SHIT

I'm putting in wings now and doing the types tomorrow bc it's 12am and I have to be up by 7 💀 I am tired.

But anyways HERE WE GOOO

---

Delta + Beta (took seperate tests for both of them but got the same answer): Type 8, the challenger

Description:

Eights are natural leaders. Will and power sparkle at their hands. You want to rule the world and stand out, and you do so because you are the most outstanding type.

Core desire: To be independent

Core fear: Being controlled or harmed

Overview:

Ready to set your kingdom up, you step up into life with strength. Self-assertive and always showing a half-smile, you want the world to know you are here. Not scared at all. It showed you how harsh and dangerous things could be, so now it’s your time to show it how fearless and outstanding you are. Your finger tickles for power. You will never settle for something small, as you know you have the ability to go up and up. If you know how to play your cards and learn to control your over controlling obsession, surely you’ll thrive and inspire others as the star you are. Just learn to pick your battles and to connect.

What motivates you?

I can see you walking through long halls in slow motion while [insert your soundtrack here] plays in the background. Eight, you are the lion of the Enneagram. You love to be in charge, doing things your way as you think that’s the best for everyone. We appreciate that, 8 (shaking). 

Your life is based on protecting yourself from everything and everyone, but with an aggressive response. You don’t wait for the world to attack, you go first. You impact and establish what you want. Nothing more, nothing less… ok, maybe more is better.

How do you think?

Being soft? That’s for marshmallows. As they see you, they treat you. That’s why you worked really hard to build your powerful and respectable persona. You think the world is tough – and you are not wrong – but it makes you always be on guard. Nobody challenges you easily, and if they dare to do so, you fight back even harder. Enforcing your self-confidence and your self-assertive attitude. They see you as huge and unbreakable, and this image you project also reinforces your own beliefs. It’s easy for you to go around with your heart bursting with pride. You think your value relies on always being in control. Otherwise, you feel helpless and scared to death of being hurt.

90% independent: You’ll do whatever it takes to set your way

30% relaxed: You need to be in control,

so you can’t relax

85% confidence: You love empowering others

How do you love?

Love can be another fighting zone for Type 8s. You keep on restlessly demanding what you want from your lovers. You feel good when dominating the relationship and you try to fit them into your expectations or to mold them often. That could cause some tension or hurt the bond. But, there is a natural fighting instinct in you, if there is no tension and challenges to the relationship you’ll sooner rather than later get bored. 

Anyone would think that once you are in a safe place, like an intimate bond, you could lower your guard. But no, quite the opposite. The more vulnerable you feel, the more aggressive you can get. So it’s common for you to be competitive in love. If you open your heart, your lover should know that’s a huge deal. 

---

Epic: Type 7, the enthusiast

Description:

The restless explorer. You are the one who’s always going after whatever makes you feel alive. You are like a Pandora box, nobody knows what’s coming next. Spontaneous, versatile and highly stimulated you’re up to new intense things.

Core desire: To be satisfied

Core fear: Being deprived

Overview:

Imagine one of those typical quiet Sundays where nothing happens and everything seems as deserted as ghost towns in western movies. Well, your life is the complete opposite. Even in a desert you can find something to do or goals to achieve. But sometimes the emotion involved in finding the oasis can make other water sources go unnoticed. Anyway, you know it’s worth it. Like a butterfly, you flutter around chasing beauty and joy. Life is a plethora of experiences and you want them all. You’ve got a thirst for life, but unbalanced as you are, you end up never getting satisfied. Life’s short, butterfly, focus on the flowers.

What motivates you?

Satisfaction and joy. Life is beautiful, mysterious and infinite. In some way you can’t stand the idea of leaving this world without seeing everything around and finding what’s out there for you. Every single moment of pain is even more painful if you think it’s a waste of time. As you fight against those feelings, anxiety cheerfully escalates in your mind just like king kong escalated  the Empire State building. Actions are slower than thoughts, which in your case seem to travel in a bullet train. Very used to that rhythm, your thoughts can lose track since you don’t really know what to pay attention to first. Everything seems so amazing and valuable!

Always dancing to Celia Cruz’s song, you feel like life is a carnival and pain goes away just by singing or thinking about newer and challenging ideas. It’s such a pity that you need to sleep, uh?  C’mon evolution!

How do you think?

Let’s go back to the King Kong’s scene. You may be wondering why on earth that’s useful? And you’re right it’s not. At all. I just wanted to show you how obsessed you are with doing only useful things. Relax and keep reading. Ok, back to the scene again. There is something we can highlight: the Empire State of mind. With this highly stimulated, resourceful and out-of-hand mind of yours, every seed seems to grow on your soil. But they can also perish while you go for another crazy idea that very same seed brought to your mind. Experiences are the wind that blows your mind, you feel easily amazed by worldly things. Your eyes, like the ones of a scientist, observe everything around you honestly thirst for knowledge. “Welcome to the circus of life!” Said the doctor who brought you to this world. Well, it was “circle”, but you heard what you heard!

90% curious: You’re energetic and always generate new ideas

30% focused: You have a hard time

trying to focus

85% risk taker: You can be impulsive

How do you love?

Love can be the most attractive thing for 7s. Remember when you first fell in love with someone and how your story became a movie you watched before your eyes as if you were in the front row seat? All those incredible sensations while “Fireworks” by Katy Perry was playing.  Do you often get lost in love fields? Does everything run fast and intense like the trilogy of Before Sunrise? Or do you want to live a love story like that one? Sights! You are such a 7!

And you should be glad. You are a huge fan of love since it represents the plenitude of life and it gives you unbelievable shots of energy to face life as it should be faced. But as soon as your idealization approaches reality, you can feel really disappointed and alone. It’s hard to compromise and stand by something that ‘s not exactly as you imagined. 

---

Color: Type 2, the helper

Description:

The one who loves to help and take care of other people. You, the one who puts other people at the top of the list and delivers unconditionally.

Core desire: To be loved and needed

Core fear: Being unwanted

Overview:

All you need is love is your mantra. But sometimes you see love as an investment more than an energy that circulates side to side. You are the lover, kindest, the servicial one. Let’s see how this love engine works.

What motivates you?

Love is the most important thing to you, or better said “being loved”. As Bob Marley sings: Could you be loved and be loved?  you are always deeply expecting if the other loves you as much as you would like, and even more. Sometimes there is a subtle fear, will they stay if you are not making an effort to feel loved too? You feel called to help, to be generous, to hold up other people. That makes you feel good with yourself and worthy of love. You see the needs of people around you and feel the duty of fulfilling them.

How do you think?

You think you’re ok if you are being loved by the rest of the people. Of course, we all want and need love and be loved, but we can’t expect that only other people and their reactions, their decisions define our value; you think that the more you sacrifice for other people the more worthy of their love you are. Love is sacrifice, abnegation. For you, thinking and taking care of your needs is unfair, selfish and you can’t accept that. Being selfish is the worst thing to do, nobody loves who is like that. Everything in your life is measured by a bar that defines two poles: being good and helpful (+) or being selfish and thinking only about yourself (-). You feel that to be loved is required to renounce yourself but at the bottom is not a disinterested resignation but the price is in the whole action itself.

90% empathetic: You're a safe space for vulnerability

30% self-confident: You struggle with saying 'no'

85% needs approval: You always want to help and never get tired

How do you love?

Have you ever heard that song of The Cardigans: love me, love me, say that you love me ?. Well, I’ll take the risk to say that song was written by a Two, just for this part: Just say that you need me, I can’t care ’bout anything but you. In the love field, you are passionate and give everything to your beloved. You like the long and deep conversations that open the way to what is intimate and treasured by the other, that’s the most certain way to connect and win the trust and the love of the other person. That’s the best way to ensure there is a solid relationship. So, you usually seduce by paying special attention to the other.

If you feel you are losing your beloved person you can turn really possessive and intense by doing whatever to hold him/her back. To feel the right to ask something back, you do more valuable things, finally it seems the other person it’s in debt with you. These attitudes can be born from an unconscious plane which supports old beliefs that sustain dependent relationships.

Enjoy <3

(Also thank you for all the love lmao, I'm so glad yall like this stuff so much!!)

YIPPE THERES MOREEEE!! Guys look look. Here’s part one for anyone curious.

And also songs!! There was songs made for the enneagrams (mostly for types I think but can fit for wings.) Here’s Color’s called Two, here’s Delta and Beta’s called Eight, and here’s Seven for Epic.

I love this they feel very fitting for one of my favorite trios + beta. I can’t wait for the types next!

[itlearns]

“There is no way I’m leaving you in the middle of nowhere at this hour to find your own way home”, Miles says.

You’re not really comfortable with cars, actually. You get anxiety and motion sickness.

“The car’s suspension is the best you can find and I’m a really steady driver”, Miles says. “I’m not very good with jolt myself, as you could have noticed”.

That’s not much of a calming statement, if you think about it.

“I had not a single accident in fifteen years drive record, you really have nothing to worry about”, Miles says.

You don’t know why you are refusing an invitation so persistently. Probably because you’re not really calm about the idea of spending two hours in a closed tiny space with Miles Edgeworth. That also might be because he sounds even more irritated and annoyed than usual. You know it’s just because of the case, yet it makes you nervous in some weird kind of way.

And yet you are in the middle of nowhere and you’re tired and it’s getting late and you have no desire to wait all night in the bus stop for the first vehicle to take you to the closest town at 7 am next morning.

So you get into the car.

You don’t really know how to drive, but watching Miles go through motions necessary is somewhat calming. His movements are automatic yet deliberate and controlled. He still looks angrier that usual, but there’s no pressure or sharpness in his hands. You absolutely can believe he didn’t get into a single incident in fifteen years.

“Is driving a car really such an unusual activity to observe?”, he asks without looking at you, as you finally making it to some civilly looking road.

“What?”

“You’re staring”.

“Oh”. You turn your head away just to look back at him immediately, since you have to answer something. “Well, it is a little weird. You look more equipped for horse riding then driving a sportscar somehow”.

He does his strange little sneer, not paired with an actual smile.

“Well, this engine’s capacity is 950 horsepower, so I think the contradiction can be avoided”

 “Now, that is a lot of horses”, you chuckle a bit nervously.

         This awkward exchange calms you down a little. The case is a mess, and everyone is stressed out. The whole day of investigation and no one was able to find victim’s head. Identifying of the body is not carried out fast enough and autopsy report is obviously not going to be ready any time soon.

         Despite Gumshoe running around saying he’s going to take all the dirty work on himself, Miles looks way messier that he usually allows himself to be. His hand laying on the wheel in an effortless manner, but he’s still frowning, and his lips are pursed. And you just don’t want Miles to be stressed or troubled. You want Miles to… You are staring again, aren’t you?

Trying to find somewhere less rude to look at you look at the dashboard and watch the speedometer needle pass 110 kilometers. This with the image of Miles barely even holding the wheel makes you think that maybe it’s time to confess your sins and pray for forgiveness to whoever is may be out there.

“Are… you okay, Edgeworth?”

“I am, thank you very much”. Sometimes you really can’t say if he’s being passive-aggressive or if it’s just his impeccable god damned manners.

“That’s kinda a little too fast, is it not?”

“That’s fine. This is a national expressway, the speed limit here is 120 kilometers per hour”

“You’re being fined for speeding is not exactly what’ I’m worried about”.

He doesn’t react to that at all, eyes still fixed on the road.

“Does it… help? With the anger?”, you ask carefully.

He takes a brief pause to consider it.

“No”.

The speedometer needle goes up to 118.

“Not a single accident in fifteen years”, you remind yourself.

[otomefoxystar]

Consequences of a Secret

Fandom: Kissed by the Baddest Bidder

Pairing : Eisuke X (female) MC

Genre: fluff and a bit of angst

Eisuke was not a patient man, but he had been patient with _ _ _. She would turn away from him whenever he tried to heat things up. He started to question if she wanted to be with him at all. He was frustrated and confused, and he was finding it harder and harder to keep his sexual appetite at bay. Sometimes, even during the day, he would have to escape to the bathroom ‘to take care of himself.’ Of course, he would never be unfaithful, but something had to give.

He had had enough. He desired her and wanted to make her entirely his. He took the whole day off to pull out all the stops. Eisuke wasn’t a particularly romantic man, but maybe she just needed the extra nudge. He had the staff set up a perfect aura to make the night perfect, with candlelight illuminating the whole suite, roses scattered across the floor, a wine bottle chilled in ice, chocolate hearts on the nightstands, and a subtle rose incense aroma filling the air.

Eisuke had a pale blue dress delivered to her room, along with some silver heels. Dressed up to the nine’s, she waited for him outside the tres spades. When his limo pulled up, he stepped out, looking quite dashing himself. Dressed more formally than was normal for him, with cuff links that matched her dress perfectly.

Instead of the driver opening her door, Eisuke took the initiative to do it instead. “What is all this for, Eisuke?” He put his hand on her knee. “There doesn’t need to be a reason to dote on my girlfriend, does there?” She smiled with a slight blush, “I suppose not.”

They enjoyed a lovely meal at a high-end restaurant, enjoying the live jazz band on stage. They made idle talk when finally, with full stomachs, they went to the penthouse. He opened the door and motioned for her to go in first. As soon as she stepped into the room, she was overtaken by everything he had prepared. “With alcohol in both their systems, making them both less nervous.” Eisuke smiled and raised her hand, kissing each of her fingertips seductively.

It quickly became evident what his intentions were, and she tried turning away. Eisuke promptly took note of her conflicted expression and stopped. “What is it this time?” She knew she was evading him, and she could tell he was getting frustrated. She needed to tell him.

“It’s not you, Eisuke.” She spoke, feeling the panic rise within her chest.

“If not me, then what? Because I am at a complete loss.” With a guilty conscience, she looked at him

“I know you are, and I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I take responsibility for that.” He searched her eyes and let her continue

She took a deep breath stealing herself, trying to calm her nerves while he waited for her to explain. “I’ve never been with anyone… in that way.” He looked over her features and could tell how difficult this was for her. “In what way, sexually?” She nodded and looked at the floor, feeling ashamed. He put his fingers under her chin, lifting her head to look at him. “You’re a virgin?”

“Yes,” she was so quiet answering. Eisuke’s frustration evaporated. Feeling the weight lift, his expression softened.

“Why didn’t you just tell me? We could have avoided all of this.” She knit her eyebrows together and looked down. “Yes, I know I should have, but I have no experience, and you, well, you’re you.” He arched an eyebrow. “Are you telling me I’m a slut?” She shook her head. “No, it’s just you’ve been with other people, and I have no idea what I’m doing, and I-” She was rambling, so he started comping his fingers through her hair to soothe her. “You’ll learn. With practice, I don’t mind teaching you. We’ll go slow.” She gave him a surprised look. “You’re willing to do that? It doesn’t bother you?” He shook his head with that signature smirk of his. “No, I find it quite alluring. If anything, it makes my claim over you even stronger.” He eyed her taking in the surprised look on her face.

“Let me ask you a question. Is this what’s been holding you back because you thought your inexperience would bother me?” He entwined their fingers together. “I thought it would scare you away, make you think differently of me.” She breathed, a weight lifted now that the truth was finally out in the open.

He brought their hands up and kissed the top of her hand. He smiled, and she was almost offended. “Why are you smiling?” He kissed her forehead. “Because you told me, even though I could tell it was difficult for you. Don’t keep things from me from now on.”

“I won’t.” She gave him a weak smile, and he kissed her lips tenderly. “I won’t do anything you aren’t ready for; however, we don’t have to have sex to pleasure each other… There are other ways.” Before she could process what he was saying. He lifted her up, cradling her in his arms. Walking into the bedroom, Eisuke closed the door behind him with his foot as they entered. He placed her gently on his bed, her head sinking into the pillow. Her heart was pounding so hard that she thought that this was definitely going to kill her. Eisuke began to undo the straps on her shoes, removing them gently and caressing her ankles sensually.

[archives-of-camelot]

Massage

Cover GIF unavailable because was too lazy to find one that wasn't sus

Characters: Eli, Evelin (@nimue-hidden-lake)

Series: Evelin Anniversary

I'm behind, I know. I'll make up for it by writing the remaining two tomorrow to catch up. Haven't been feeling it today and I barely managed to squeeze this out, so I'll be caught up by tomorrow.

-------------------------------------

Hard at work again, as per usual. Eli tireless combed over his edits, as he pushed to get the remaining projects done for the last few clients this week. The home stretch was in sight.

Clicky clackity click

It had been some hours. He got serious about his job. It was for someone else after all, and they were paying him. So, no excuse for slacking off.

A few more slides, one more edit, and a last refinement and it was finally done, after half a day's worth of nonstop work. He let out a sigh as he began rendering it and sat back in his chair.

It felt rather relaxing until he felt a sharp pain in his shoulders. His muscles being in overdrive, plus his less than desirable posture, mixed with his old chair made for an unpleasant combination, as his muscles tensed and knotted. They could stand long hours...it was when he stopped that the problem arose.

Pressure was felt in his arms with evert little move, as pain shot up and down from his shoulders, as tension made itself known. He stood up and headed downstairs. He reached the landing and reached for the cabinet to see if he had any painkillers, when the pain shot through his shoulders from needing to reach up to check. The pain resulted in a sharp exclamation from his mouth.

"Are you alright?" a voice behind him asked. It was Evelin, of course.

"K-Kinda, ow...just a little sore..." he tried to smile as best he could.

Evelin skeptically stared at him, noting his odd shoulder position.

"I thought I told you to take care of yourself. That includes breaks" she shook her head.

"Uh, yeah...you know me. When I get into it, I don't notice anything else, h-heh..."

Evelin let out a sigh. This guy was hopeless sometimes. If she didn't keep an eye on him, sometimes he'd go too far. But she at least acknowledged it wasn't on purpose. Work was work, and he enjoyed what he did. But breaks are still a necessity. That conversation would have to wait however. Right now, he needed her help.

She moved to the couch and sat down, moving her legs to allows room.

"Come here"

"U-Uh...for what?"

"A massage"

"You don't have to. I was...about to take some painkillers"

"And endure another hour?"

Eli sighed. Once again, she made up her mind.

"Exactly. Now come"

He sat in between her legs, with his back to her. Carefully, she ran her hands up and down his shoulders. She'd never done this before...but it was the best solution.

"Does that help?" she inquired, stilling lightly touching the area, as to not agitate any further if she didn't have to.

"Y-Yeah...a little"

She nodded, and proceeded to knead and rub a little harder, making sure her movements were fluid and consistent. She wasn't sure about any sort of technique, but if it was working was all that mattered.

Eli already felt his muscles start to relax as her soft hands gripped and caressed his muscles with such care and attention. Slowly, the tension started to melt away, like ironing our folds and creases.

"Is that any better?"

"Oh god, yes...you're amazing at this..." his voice in turn relaxed, unable to hide the euphoria being experienced.

She kneaded and molded, as if she was using clay. After a few more minutes of this, she stopped.

"Is that better, or should I continue?"

"Wow...that's...much better" he moved and rotated his shoulders about. In fact, his joints felt so relaxed, his range of motion felt expanded. "You're perfect for this kind of thing"

"I'm glad" she nodded. "If you ever need or want this again, just ask. I'll gladly agree"

"I'll keep that in mind"

'I should overwork more often' Eli jokingly thought to himself. Not only would it help him work better, but her massage skills would be incentive.

A natural born master. Then again, her knowing practically his body inside and out must have been a huge advantage.

Masterlist

[sluttywonwoo]

pretend || j.ww x reader

Summary: reading thirst tweets with your co-star/boyfriend’s best friend makes things a little tense

Warnings: swearing, smut mentions (18+)

Word Count: 1.8k

a/n:  originally posted on my tom holland fic account ( @wazzupmrstark )

Masterlist

The sound of Mingyu cracking his knuckles next to you sent a shiver down your spine, making you cringe instinctively. You turned to glare at him and leaned away from the noise.

“I hate when you do that!” you groaned.

He smirked. “I know, that’s why I like doing it.”

You looked over at Wonwoo, who was sitting across the room with the crew, and pointed to Gyu. 

“Can you tell your best friend to stop being annoying?”

“Can you tell your girlfriend to stop being dramatic?” Mingyu retaliated.

“I’m not picking sides!” Wonwoo shouted back and held up his hands in surrender.

You let your jaw drop. “I’ll remember that, Jeon.”

“Baby, I-” Wonwoo started to defend himself, but fell silent when the producer got up from her chair and approached you and Mingyu who were sitting behind the camera. 

“Which one of you wants to take this?” she asked, holding up a large insulated jug full of paper strips. 

“I’ll take it,” Mingyu offered and set the cup in his lap. 

“What a gentleman,” you said, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. 

“You’re lucky you’re pretty,” he muttered, “because you’re so fucking annoying.”

“Thank you.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

The producer gave you both a sideways look. “Are you guys alright? Should we take a minute before starting?”

“No, we’re fine,” you assured her.

“We don’t actually hate each other,” Mingyu added, “this is just how... we are.”

She didn’t look any less concerned, but nodded anyway. “Okay, well remember what your director said about playing up your chemistry to promote the show. And when we call action just give a quick slate and start reading the tweets.”

She walked back over to her spot next to the cameraman and took a seat before looking over a checklist that had been handed to her and writing some notes on it.

“Nervous?” Mingyu whispered to you as you both waited for your cue.

“A little,” you admitted. “You?”

“I’m a bit on edge,” he concurred. “Mostly because your boyfriend is about to watch me read filthy comments about you on-camera.”

You glanced over at Wonwoo who gave you an encouraging smile and a thumbs-up. “He’ll be fine. How bad can they be?”

From a distance, the producer you had just spoken to called for everyone to be quiet on set and signaled the cameras to start rolling. You perked up and straightened your dress, waiting for Mingyu to take the lead. 

“Hi guys, I’m Kim Mingyu.”

“And I’m y/n y/l/n.”

“You might recognize us from our new Netflix series, Breaking Curfew, where we play opposite each other in what you might call a... complicated romantic relationship.”

“We’re enemies with benefits,” you summarized. “And today we’re here with Buzzfeed to read thirst tweets about each other.”

“Ladies first,” Mingyu said and held the cup out to you.

You closed your eyes and sifted through the strips of paper with one hand, selecting one at random. 

“Okay, this one’s about you. ‘Kim Mingyu has the prettiest eyes’.” You grinned as you watched your co-star’s cheeks turn pink. “He’s totally blushing right now! We haven’t even gotten to the good stuff!”

“Thank you very much to whoever tweeted that,” Mingyu said and cleared his throat. 

“I agree with this person,” you continued, “you do have really pretty eyes.”

“Aw, thank you, y/n.”

“You’re welcome.”

“My turn.” Mingyu closed his eyes and rummaged around the cup before picking one. “‘Someone tell y/n y/l/n that I’m single and I get a discount at Olive Garden if she ever wants to let me take her out on a date’.”

You chuckled. “I do like Olive Garden.”

“She’ll get back to you on that one, mate,” Mingyu said quickly and let the crumpled piece of paper fall to the floor. 

You took that as a sign to move on so you reached into the jug and pulled out another tweet.

“Oh, this one’s about me again. ‘Y/n y/l/n scissor me challenge’.” You clapped a hand over your mouth in shock and thrust the slip of paper towards Mingyu.

“You know what, props for being so bold. What do you think, y/n? Are you going to take them up on the offer?”

“I’ll think about it,” you managed to choke out, sending Mingyu into a laughing fit. You fanned yourself with your hand as you tried to recover and motioned for your co-star to read another one. “Your turn.”

“‘Kim Mingyu and y/n y/l/n are my dream celebrity threesome,’” he read. “What a compliment, don’t you think?”

“Oh, for sure,” you agreed and winked as you held your hand to your ear in a call me motion. 

“These are just getting more and more vulgar, aren’t they?” Mingyu asked. 

“I don’t know that anything can beat the scissoring one,” you pointed out as you fished another tweet from the bucket. “Another one about Mingyu, okay. ‘I wanna suck Kim Mingyu’s soul through his dick then spit it back in his face’.” You blinked at the piece of paper in front of you in shock, scanning back over it to make sure you had read it right the first time. “Jesus... christ.”

Mingyu smirked and nudged your shoulder with his. 

You ignored him and pointed a finger at the camera in disgust. “I cannot believe you made me read this with my own two eyes. I could have lived my entire life without seeing those words in a sentence together!”

“I think that’s the best compliment I’ve ever received,” Mingyu countered, running a thumb along his jawline cockily. 

“No, I have beef with whoever tweeted that now.”

“You’re just jealous that I like this tweet better than the threesome one.”

You sighed. “This interview was a bad idea. Your head is already so god damn big.”

Mingyu opened his mouth to retaliate, but paused like he had thought better of it and took a deep breath to compose himself. 

“Anyway, moving on.”

You watched as he sifted through the tweets and chose one from the bottom, reading it to himself and grinning slightly before reading it aloud. 

“‘Petition for y/n y/l/n to start an OnlyFans because I just know her tits are incredible. I can feel it in my bones’.”

You brought your hands up to your boobs self-consciously and laughed. “I don’t know about that, but thank you.”

“I’ve seen them,” Mingyu added nonchalantly, “and I can confirm that twitter user ‘geminisuns’ is correct.”

“Mingyu!” 

“What? Do you know how many sex scenes we had to shoot? We’ve seen each other naked plenty of times.”

You looked back over to the crew and made eye contact with the producer. “Do you see what I have to deal with?”

“Maybe we should take a quick break,” she suggested and motioned for the cameras to stop rolling. “Get a drink, freshen up and be back here in five.”

“Do you think they’re going to use that part?” Mingyu asked as he followed you over to the water cooler. 

“I don’t know, dude,” you sighed in annoyance, “but great fucking job. The whole world already thinks we’re boning.”

“I don’t know about the whole world.” You glared at him. “Wonwoo knows we’re not.”

Wonwoo. You had nearly forgotten that your boyfriend was there on set with you. You looked around for him, and saw him still sitting in his designated guest chair looking at his phone. You could only imagine what he must be thinking of all of this. You should probably say something to him. 

You told Mingyu that you’d be back and made your way across the room to Wonwoo. Even from a distance you could tell that he was upset. 

His knuckles were pale and his jaw was tight. He didn’t look up at you when you approached him. 

“Sorry this is taking longer than expected,” you said, brushing a stray curl out of his eyes. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he murmured in response, still not looking at you. 

You sighed and draped yourself across him, slinging your arms loosely across his shoulders as you leaned down to see what he was doing on his phone. He was scrolling aimlessly on Instagram, not even liking any of the posts. 

“If you’re bored you can leave,” you said curtly and stood back up. 

“I’m not bored.”

“You’re not even paying attention to the shoot.”

“Trust me, it’s impossible not to. I’ve been trying to tune it out for the past ten minutes with no luck.”

“Why would you not want to pay attention?” you demanded even though the answer was sitting right in front of you. “This is a big deal for me.”

Wonwoo swallowed and finally looked up at you. “I know, baby. It’s just- do you know how hard it is to listen to my best friend talk about doing all of these dirty things to you-”

“He’s my best friend too,” you pointed out in a quiet hiss. “The only reason we’re together is because of him.”

Sometimes you felt the need to remind Wonwoo that you had known Mingyu longer than you had known him. If Gyu hadn’t brought him to set all those times back when you were filming in the fall, you wouldn’t even know about each other’s existence. 

“I know that.”

“You’ve done interviews like this before,” you argued. 

“I know,” he repeated.

“Then why are you being like this?” He didn’t answer, so you kept going. “You know my bare ass has been on tv, right-”

“Don’t,” Wonwoo warned and grabbed your wrist.

You gasped and flexed your fingers gingerly in his grasp, challenging him. “Don’t what?” 

“Y/n,”

“Don’t... act like I want to fuck your best friend?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “You’re enjoying this.” It wasn’t a question.

“Don’t pretend like I’d rather fulfill those tweets with him instead of you? Give the people what they want?”

You had to bite your tongue before you went any further and said something you might regret. Your words had already had the desired effect. You didn’t even have to look at Wonwoo’s lap to know that he was struggling not to get hard. 

You could see it in his eyes. The arousal that had turned the warm brown into black. The way he was looking at you told you everything you needed to know. You wondered if you would even make it back home before he’d break, if he would pull the car over on the side of the road and take you then and there. 

Your knees were weak at the mere thought of what you were in for later that night. Making Wonwoo jealous was admittedly one of your favorite pastimes, purely for selfish reasons. Possessive sex was arguably the best sex. The teasing, the hair-pulling, the choking, the face-fucking, all hit different when Wonwoo was reminding you who you belonged to. 

Wonwoo released your wrist from his grip and raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Are you finished?”

You shook your head and grinned. “Just getting started.”

lmk what you thought; i always appreciate feedback!!

wonwoo tags: @wonw00t

shoot me an ask to be added/removed from my taglist

[cheerscoops]

Golden Hour

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson

Summary: Inspired by this fanart by @divine-draws - a lazy, sleepy morning for Steve and Eddie

CW/TW: n/a, this is pure fluff

Word Count: 1K

Author's Note: requested by @thefreakymunson <3

Light shone through the blinds that Steve had neglected to close the night before bathing his room in the soft glow of the early morning light. As he slowly came to, he was made aware of the arm wrapped around him. He had gone to sleep with Eddie snuggled up to him as the little spoon, but at some point in the middle of the night, the metalhead had rolled over and buried his face in his chest. Not that Steve was complaining about it. He’d never complain about being close to Eddie.

If you had told King Steve that one day he’d be falling for the freak of Hawkins High, he would have told you that you were crazy. Then again, he would have said the same thing if you’d told him that the Upside Down existed, and yet, both things were true.

After the “earthquake,” Steve’s parents had decided that they were moving out of Hawkins for good. They left the house for Steve only because they knew they’d lose money trying to sell it. He didn’t exactly love the house. It had always felt so empty and lonely to him. But, they’d needed a place to hide Eddie during his recovery while he was waiting for them to find a way to clear his name. Steve’s big, empty house seemed like the perfect place, and Eddie’s presence made the house seem a little less lonely.

Somewhere between helping to nurse Eddie back to health and the government pinning the murders on Victor Creel, their harmless flirting had grown into actual feelings and self-discovery, and even when it was safe for Eddie to move out, neither of them wanted it to happen.

They still kept seperate bedrooms for the moments where they wanted some privacy, but they spent most nights together. Sometimes, it was for more carnal desires, but other nights like the night before were for comfort. Just knowing that there was someone else there made sleeping easier, and Steve had far fewer nightmares when he was holding Eddie in his arms.

Steve had slept through the night without a single nightmare, so he was in a particularly good mood that morning. He tightened his grip and pulled Eddie a little closer as he pressed a kiss to the top of his head. This was his favorite place. Outside of his house, he couldn’t be as affectionate with Eddie as he wanted to be. He couldn’t put a label on whatever it was they were or show him off the way he would have with any of the girls he’d dated in the past. But safe within the four walls of his bedroom, he could show Eddie just how much he truly meant to him with the single soothing motion of his fingers gently tracing up and down his back.

“Too early,” Eddie groaned as he snuggled deeper into Steve’s chest. “Go back to sleep.”

“You say that every morning.”

“And every morning, I’m right.”

This was the game they played most days. Eddie complained about being woken up to see just how much affection he could weasel out of Steve, and Steve was happy to give it. They had both been so touch-starved before their relationship started that every lingering touch left them reeling. Now, it took a little bit more to get each other worked up, and each touch was more meaningful. Steve could show that he loved Eddie without having to say the words that he was so afraid to put out there.

“Do you really want to go back to sleep?” Steve asked. The hand that was rubbing Eddie’s back moved upwards to tangle into his hair as he started to massage the back of his head. “Because I think you’d much rather stay awake with me.”

Where Steve hated anyone touching his hair, Eddie was the exact opposite. All Steve had to do was wrap one of Eddie’s curls around his finger, and the man was putty in his hands. When Steve was feeling especially nice like he was that morning, he’d thread his fingers through Eddie’s hair and take his time gently scratching at his scalp. It was pure bliss, and Steve relished in the look that always graced Eddie’s face at the touch.

“You sure about that?” Eddie replied with a contented sigh. “Because you know how relaxing I find this. I could fall back asleep at any moment.”

“Maybe I just think you deserve a little extra affection.”

“Maybe I’ll let you give it to me.”

Eddie adjusted the way that he was laying against Steve so that he could rest his chin on the other man’s chest and look up at him.

“You’re too far away,” Steve pouted as he circled his arms around Eddie.

“I am quite literally laying on top of you. I couldn’t be closer if I tried.”

“I can’t reach your lips from there.”

“Why should I kiss you? You won’t let me sleep,” Eddie teased. He was only prolonging the inevitable. He couldn’t resist when Steve got needy. Partially because there were times where he found it hard to believe that any of this was real. Times where he couldn’t fathom that he was actually in Steve’s bed or that he was wanted there. Needed even. So his wandering hands and kisses kept him physically in the moment. Helped him to believe that the affection was real and wasn’t disappearing anytime soon.

“How about this? You come up here and give me a real kiss, and we can sleep for at least another hour,” Steve suggested.

“Two hours?”

“Okay. Two hours.”

“That I can agree to.”

Eddie shuffled his way up to capture Steve’s lips in a sweet kiss. He pulled away almost too quickly before rolling Steve over slightly to be his little spoon.

“Such a tease,” Steve laughed. “That was barely a kiss.”

Eddie playfully bit Steve’s shoulder as he draped his arm over Steve’s waist, their legs tangling together instantly.

“There’s plenty more where that came from,” Eddie promised. “In two hours. After I sleep.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

“I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

And so the two fell back asleep wrapped up in each other’s embrace feeling the love between them even without having to say the words.

[nejibaby]

Fun

Pairing: Monkey D. Luffy x F!Reader

Summary: With you near-death experience in Dressrosa, you’re craving for a certain type of release.

Warning: NSFW!

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: A certain Luffy fanart has made me think of dirty thoughts about him so here I am posting this filthy thing. I’m so flustered, it’s not even kinky but writing smut really flusters me LOL 🤣 Please let me know your thoughts~

Celebrations are usual occurrences in the Straw Hat crew. Despite only having almost half the crew around, it doesn’t make the party any less lively. In fact, the presence of the new allies formed in Dressrosa makes up for the absence of the other crew members.

The near-death experience makes you crave for a certain type of release. And with the copious amount of alcohol being passed around by everyone, it doesn’t take you too long to gather up courage to find someone to help you.

Soon enough, you’re seated on a random guy’s lap, heavily making out with him, a few meters away from the celebrating people. Because of the alcohol, you’re not entirely sure who he is, but you have to admit he’s skilled at using his lips, his tongue, and his hands.

He’s just about to move you into a more private location, but before he could take you away, an arm wraps itself around your waist and suddenly you’re being pulled back into someone else’s lap.

You look at the person who just interrupted your moment, only to be surprised upon finding out it was your captain. “Luffy, what the hell?!”

“Oi, what were you doing with Torao?”

Torao? Trafalgar Law? You whip your head to where you previously were to confirm if the guy who you were with is truly him. Lo and behold, you find Law glaring at Luffy, and then angrily walking away.

You pout and let out a frustrated huff. “Ah, we were just having fun. I’ll just—” you point towards where Law went, “head back so we can...” you absentmindedly trail off, and then you attempt to get up from Luffy’s lap. Keyword: attempt. Because Luffy grips your legs so you couldn’t leave.

You furrow your brows at his actions. Just as you are to ask him why he’s keeping you there, he asks, “Why don’t you want to have fun with me?”

You swear your brain short circuited the moment his question left his lips. If you’re sober, you’re certain you would’ve taken his question innocently. But with the alcohol fogging up your mind, you aren’t sure if he’s just sulking because he wants you to party with him or if he’s inviting you to continue what you’ve been doing a while ago but with him instead of Law. And so, you want to clarify what he means. “What?”

Luffy giggles at your dumbfounded expression. He thought you didn’t hear him from the noise everyone is making, so he leans in, his lips almost touching your ear as he unconsciously rubs your thighs while saying, “I said, why don’t you want to have fun with me?”

And then he pulls away, waiting for your answer.

It isn’t easy to fluster you, but with Luffy’s proximity, the way his hands are moving, and the fact that you’re still aroused after the interrupted makeout session, you find yourself being affected by his question and it’s underlying meaning.

“I, uhm, I-I…” you stutter, unable to look at him in the eyes. You attempt to look elsewhere but suddenly your eyes land on his lips.

You’ve heard of people before who talked about how Luffy has his way of drawing people in and making them his allies. Right now that’s exactly what he’s doing with you, drawing you in — except, he’s doing it quite literally.

Before you know it, you’re leaning into him, and then your lips are on his. He smiles into the kiss before pulling you impossibly closer.

Luffy’s kisses are rather messy and uncoordinated, but it quickly makes you feel lightheaded and excited.

You’re so caught up with the moment to the point that it didn’t occur to you that you have instinctively started grinding on him. You’re only made aware of your actions when you hear Luffy groaning in pleasure. And that’s when you start wanting more, but you’re both still on the deck and there are still drunk people around, even if you both aren’t near them.

Luffy tries to follow your lips when you pull away. And then he pouts when your lips are out of reach. He whines your name, obviously wanting to continue.

“Luffy, I… we should… uhm…” you clear your throat. “I want you,” you whisper.

But Luffy isn’t even listening. His focus is solely on your lips and when you bite your lip nervously, he almost shivers in anticipation.

You take this opportunity to drag him into his room. Thankfully, he doesn’t object nor ask any questions, he just follows your lead. And when you’ve entered his room, you immediately lock the door and start kissing him once again.

You gently nudge Luffy to his bed, not even daring to break the kiss in the process. For some reason, the kiss turns rougher than before, almost feral.

When Luffy reaches the bed and sits down on it, you immediately climb on his lap. You grab a hold of his calloused hands and guide them under your tank top, towards your breasts. He kneads them instantly and you let out a whimper.

Luffy pulls away from the kiss. He removes his hands from under your tank top, and then the next thing you know, he’s tearing up the offensive garment. You haven’t even asked why he did that but he explains already, “It was in the way! I want to feel you better.”

If that’s the case, you unhook your bra and throw it somewhere in the room before he’d even think about ripping it off as well.

Luffy takes a moment to stare at your half naked form. With the way your boobs are slightly moving with every breath you take, he easily finds himself in a trance.

You snap him out of it by grinding on his bulge. You pull him in again for a kiss and he instantly cups your breasts with his hands again. He kneads your boobs and pinches your nipples, and you let out soft mewls in satisfaction.

You bite his lip and he lets out a sexy grunt. You palm his hardened cock and it instantly makes him breathless. He calls your name with a quiver in his voice.

You grab one of his hands and bring it under your skirt, inside your panties and urge him to touch your cunt. “You’re wet,” he breathlessly comments.

You slip one of his fingers into you, guiding him in and out. When he’s found his rhythm, you let go of his hand and let him do as he pleases. He adds another finger soon enough. The sensation elicits a moan from you.

“Do that again,” Luffy says. “Do that sound again.”

You oblige, resting your head on his shoulder as you moan at his ministrations.

You use this time to unzip his pants and tug his cock from the garments. When you start pumping him, he lets out a lewd groan and temporarily stops his fingers from moving. This goes on for a while and when Luffy starts moving his hips with the motion of your hands, you stop.

You pull away completely from him. And then you start stripping him off of his clothes until Luffy’s naked. You watch as he licks his fingers clean from the wetness of your cunt and he hums in appreciation. When he’s done, you take off your remaining clothes as well.

You grab a hold of his dick once again and kiss him on the lips. Your hand movements are slow as you switch from kissing his lips to his neck. You leave a couple of hickeys on him. Then you slowly make your way down, kissing, sucking, licking, biting his chest, his abs, until you’re on your knees, face directly in front of his dick.

He watches you with half lidded eyes, a look that you’ve never seen before on him. You look directly at him as you make kitten licks on his cock. You watch as he visibly gulps. And then you take him in your mouth and start sucking him off. Luffy pants and grunts at your ministrations. You then grabbed his balls and massaged them.

“That feels so good,” he moans.

Luffy uncontrollably juts his hips, wanting more of the pleasurable sensation you’re making him feel. And you let him.

But when you feel his cock twitching, you pull away.

Luffy whines loudly, but you push him so that he’s laying on the bed. You climb atop him, grab his shaft and coat it with your wetness. And then you slowly sink down until he’s fully inside you.

“T-tight…” Luffy mutters, “you’re so tight.”

You wait until you’ve fully adjusted to his size before you start moving. Luffy stares at you in desire as you move on top of him, your tits bouncing with every motion. He watches your face with fascination as he’s never seen your face contort with pleasure like this before. And for some reason, this makes him harder.

Then his body moves on his own, too lost in lust, his hands start squeezing your breasts, his hips start thrusting into you.

When he notices you tiring down, he easily flips the position so that you’re under him. All that’s going through his head is how good you make him feel.

“Luffy… fuck… so good…” you moan out loudly, unable to even make a proper sentence.

He snaps his hips faster and rougher as time progresses. He’s pounding into you so hard that the bed starts creaking and the headboard slams against the walls.

But those sounds are nothing compared to the noises the both of you are making. You have resorted to repeating his name like a mantra along with profanities here and there, while Luffy grunts and moans to your ears, sometimes telling you how amazing you feel.

All too soon, you’re clenching against him so tightly as you climaxed. This brings out a more brutal pace from Luffy as he starts chasing his own high. And when he releases his load in you, you almost shudder at the feeling.

When Luffy pulls out, he notices your juices leaking out of you. And before you can even comprehend what he’s planning, he starts licking.

Your breath hitches from the stimulation, but Luffy doesn’t stop until you’re completely clean.

And when he’s done, he’s grinning widely at you.

“Luffy, that’s…” you start to say, but you didn’t know what word or words you’re supposed to use. Hot? Sexy? Best fuck you’ve had in a while?

Before you can even come up with what to say however, Luffy tells you, “That was fun! We should do that again!”

[apocalypticgargoyle]

I read the edgy!karl, I’ve just finished reading the alt!dream, WHEN IS GEORGE GONNA BE NEXT 😩😩

*cracks knuckles* the hcs that everyone has provided me with has hella prepped me and I'm ready. this is dedicated to 🍭 anon, whose fanart always steals my entire heart. i love u babe

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐄. ᶤ 𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐤!𝐠𝐧𝐟

± pairings: punk!Georgenotfound x fm!reader

± word count: ~3300

± warnings: smut (18+), language, tattoo work, sadism, pain kink (if you squint), domination, mentions of needles, asphyxiation

song recommendation: Cent Fois by Alice et Moi

George’s mind wandered to his curiosity of the shop across from his tattoo parlor; bright neon signs advertising the local psychic. It was a stark contrast to the dark, wet city housing the businesses. Each night he locked up, he found himself standing on the other edge of the street, staring at the signs and draperies peeking from behind the glass windows and considering shedding his skeptical nature just for one night.

While your business was alluring in and of itself, his true draw to the place came after he had spotted you moving into the apartments above. Your clean appearance completely juxtaposed the business you ran. In his opinion, all natural healers and psychics were born scam artists only focused on the quickest way to pinch a penny.

Yet day after day, he found himself having to tear his eyes from your business just to get home or he would actually venture inside. He was rather subtle about his fascination when it came to his co-workers and regular customers, but each day he prayed you would wander in, requesting some kind of tattoo in a place hidden from outside eyes.

A place he’d like to see again in a less professional setting.

You flipped the textbook page after finishing your paragraph, highlighting a date you were looking for before leaning towards your notebook and scribbling down the fact. You gnawed on the end of your pen absent-mindedly, positive you still didn’t know what your professor had been rattling off about in class a few hours prior. Your sights drifted up to the incense burning across the store from you, the stick on its last few centimeters of wood as the smoke went stale.

You chew on the inside of your cheek, debating if you should light another or wait until morning. You capped your marker and stretched your back, the bell over the door letting out a telling chime as a man peeked in.

You leaned over the counter, closing your books. “Good evening! Welcome to After Life. Can I help you find anything?” You rambled, your mind flashing to the sheet of paper tucked into the frame of your bathroom mirror so you didn’t forget the basics of customer service.

The man stepped further into your view, stuffing his fists in his jean pockets as he walked closer in a cautious motion. His dark t-shirt advertised a band you had vaguely heard of, but couldn’t think of a song even if your life depended on it. What really drew your attention were his tattooed arms; branches from a grand tree twisting every which direction to peek out from beneath his sleeves; bright floral designs and litters of birds decorating the dark wood limbs. You bit back a smile at the small mushroom tattoo near his wrist that seemed to be out of place.

The laces of his Chuck Taylors grazed the floor before he was standing in the middle of your store, looking around briefly. “I actually co-own the parlor across the street. I realized I never welcomed you officially,” he stated, hints of nervousness reflecting in his tone. His accent was calming and husky from the season change.

At the mention of the tattooist across the street, your memory flashed to the various walks of life that found themselves in your store after getting work done. You also thought of the fact that you had seen the man before you break up fights in the street stretching between your properties. The tall muscular people seemed to have no effect on him as he’d pull them apart like school children on the playground.

You pushed your books further to the side. “Oh yeah, that’s right! I should have come over and introduced myself, so don’t worry about it,” you eased, swatting the air of his comment.

He chuckled softly before reality seemed to snap into his head, making him step forward and extend a hand to you. “I’m George, by the way,” he introduced. You took his hand, muttering your own name and hoping your attention span would hold for long enough that he would be entered into your long-term memory.

His hand was calloused in yours, something that you wondered came with the job or if he was some kind of carpenter in a past life of his. You gently pulled his hand closer to you, slipping your hold out of his to look at his palm. He tittered nervously, peering at the flesh with you. Your finger traced along the mounts in his hand, finding Jupiter to be the most prominent. “That checks out,” you mumbled to yourself, nodding softly.

His eyebrows perked up. “What? Am… Am I gonna meet a tall dark stranger and take a trip across the sea?” He joked, making you smile as you looked at his Sun line.

“I didn’t peg you as an Outlander fan,” you chided.

His brows flattened for a moment, chewing the inside of his lip and playing with his snake bite piercings. You found it hard to look away from him. “Honestly, I wasn’t. A girl I was fooling around with really liked it. I don’t know…” he trailed off, making you giggle.

Your nail grazed along his heart line. “You guys were just fooling around?” You quirked, eyes meeting his. His expression narrowed smugly as if urging you to continue. “Your heart line begins below your index finger. You’re not the fooling around type.” He let out a snort. “You fall in love easily too.”

He sighed with a slight sparkle in his eyes as he looked at you. You couldn’t tell if he was amazed or mocking you again. “Well, yeah. That’s…” He paused with a swallow, biting back a grin as if he was uncomfortable, but didn’t retract his hand from you. “... That’s why we’re not anymore,” he admitted. He leaned his elbows on the counter as you sat in your chair. “What else does it say?”

Your lips curled into a soft smirk, his curious eyes trailing over your face as if to watch your brain work. “You have a fire element hand which indicates that you’re confident and passionate. Maybe a bit cocky sometimes,” you teased, making him chuckle with you. You could feel his eyes on you, sending heat to your cheeks as you tried not to focus on the mount of Venus under your touch.

You wanted to ask him about his sexual indulgences, mainly because of the prevalence of Venus in his palm. “You have a mount in Jupiter, which means you’re a natural leader, and rather dominant.” You looked up at him again, watching as he bit back a smirk, seemingly understanding the subtle innuendos behind your statements.

George seemed to have some kind of effect on you, your thoughts clouding with the idea of what his snake bites would feel like against your lips. He smelled like cigarette smoke, but there was no discoloration to his skin to suggest he was the one smoking. He watched you through the hair threatening to dangle over his eyes, his gaze hinting at an attraction he had for you below his collected form. “Go on,” he murmured, voice soft and wispy as the space between the two of you seemed to warm.

You made a conscious effort to keep your sultry thoughts at bay as your thumb brushed over the area you had been avoiding telling him about. “You’re driven by desire,” you answered, voice barely above a whisper. “You’re… very in touch with your sexuality and you thrive on your indulgences.”

You couldn’t help but meet his eyes, the dark irises swimming with some kind of cocky smugness at what you had just told him. He pulled away from you, gently standing up. Part of you wished the counter between the two of you would vanish just so you could be pressed up against George at the mercy of his driven mind. “I feel it's only fair I tattoo you now,” he quipped, making your eyebrows raise. Your confidence shriveled yet you swore you wouldn’t let him know that fact.

You chewed on your lip, looking up at him with a hint of suspicion. “Oh, I’ve never been tattooed,” you avowed, voice carrying the slightest bit of your coaxing nature.

He smirked. “I’ll take care of you, I promise,” he cajoled, teeth playing at his piercings again as you were sure he was already undressing you with his eyes. “You read me, I’d like to do the same.”

And how could you refuse such an appealing offer?

You leaned back on your elbows, your skin sticking to the leather chair beneath you as you watched him pull back his hair, elastic band dangling from his white teeth. Despite securing back his locks, bits of his bangs still hung over his forehead. You liked the interior of his parlor, maybe because it was only the two of you.

George began to fill small caps of dark ink. “I think you should get some crystals in here,” you teased, making him smirk. “I could hook you up.”

“What, like a salt lamp?” He joked, pulling on a pair of dark plastic gloves.

You snorted, lying back and looking up at the ceiling. “It might be good. Lighten the place up a bit.” George swiveled his chair closer to you muttering some kind of line about only getting them from you, but his words fell silent on your ears as his hand pushed up your shirt. You were silently thanking whatever divine force above for swaying you towards slinkier lingerie earlier that morning.

You knew he could see the lacy edges of your bra by the way his eyes nonchalantly flashed up to you before laying out his template on your ribs. You could feel hints of his warm breath against your skin as he studied it. “You can look at it if you want,” he stated.

You shook your head, wanting him close to you as long as he could be. “I trust you,” you muttered, your eyes meeting his again. His tongue pressed against his cheek as he struggled not to smile at your statement. He had promised to cover a small scar for you and by the way he explained it, you were ready to be in his hands. You wet your lips as he adjusted the speed on his tattoo gun. “Will this hurt?” You asked, tucking one of your arms behind your head.

The look of unadulterated lust that he gave you made your toes want to curl. “Probably a bit. It feels good sometimes, though,” he answered. He came closer to you, resting his forearm on your stomach to angle himself in the right position. At the feeling of his skin pressed against yours, you swore your body was on fire. It took everything in your power not to moan. It could have been the adrenaline pulsing through your veins, but his soft breath and the anticipation of the needle made you feel like a junky. “I’ll be gentle, darling,” he leered, his accent muddy and low. He let the needles drag against your skin and you bit your lip, trying not to hiss at the pain. His eyes met yours. “See, not bad.”

You let out a breathy wheeze. “Shut up, you sadist,” you quipped, his chuckle coming out rather roguish as he focused on the work in front of him. Your nerves were more focused on the way George’s hands were barely caressing your body as if teasing and hinting at what he could do to you.

You drew in a sharp breath as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. “Shhh shh. It’ll be over soon,” he cooed, his voice sending goosebumps spreading across your body as his lips tugged into a light smirk. By your palm reading, you knew he was enjoying having this much control over you.

Part of you found it almost torture when George would look at you with soft and lusty eyes for merely a second before his gaze jutted back down to his work, murmuring soft praises about how well you were taking the pain. You would go under the needle anytime he asked, just to receive the sultry treatment he gave.

He was so close, you could have driven your fingers into his dark hair if you wanted. “How did you get this scar?” He asked, cleaning off some of the ink before continuing.

“A knife fight,” you answered without missing a beat, making him scoff. “Actually, I fell into my grandma’s glass table one time. My cousin was teaching me the Electric Slide,” you corrected, making him laugh, shaking his head slightly as he filled in a spot.

He let his tongue dart across his lips. “That’s so cute. Did you ever get it figured out?” To this you shook your head, the both of you laughing. You let out a groan as the needle dug into another area on your ribs, the sound making his eyes dart up to you. He leaned off of you, slipping one of his gloves off. “Wanna hold my hand, sweetheart?” He joked, but you took his offer, squeezing his hand in yours when it got painful enough. You held it close to your chest, hoping he would feel your heartbeat quicken each time he looked at you.

As he finished up his work, his thumb brushed against your hand absent-mindedly. You could tell by the way he gripped your hand as well that he enjoyed that the tattoo hurt you. Most of your mind was excited by how easily he was stirred up by you, while the rest was completely unsurprised and even threatened to bite out that he was a cliché.

When he was finally satisfied, he cleaned you up and stuck on a SecondSkin, biting back a grin at his work as he pulled you up by the hand he was holding onto you with. You couldn’t help but smile at how excited you were to see, swinging your legs over the side of his hair and walking towards his mirror. You held your shirt up, chewing on your bottom lip as you grinned at the ink. George rested a hand beside the mirror, watching you beam at his work.

All of his lines were flawless, your scar completely disappearing within his shading. You’d pitched the idea of an ode to the Creation of Adam. While it was cliche, what better to fit in the space below your breast and give George the impression that you were cultured. Yet you told him he could do whatever he wanted to it, resulting in one of the hands resembling a skeleton and the other holding a sucker. As you praised him, he shrugged off your comments, murmuring about it being his pleasure. He reached out his free hand, letting his thumb smooth over one of the edges of this bandage, which brought you closer to him.

Your cheeks warmed at the close proximity to him as his eyes grazed over your body before meeting your own. His hand moved from the bandage to your back. You leaned on your toes, pressing your lips to his. The tension between the two of you dissipated as he hungrily reacted, pulling you against him and savoring your moans as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

George’s hands moved down your body, swiftly hooking around your thighs and wrapping your legs around his waist to bring you back to his chair. Your hands moved into his hair, letting it loose and wrapping the band around your wrist. The leather was cold as your back pressed to it. George leaned back to pull his shirt over his head, revealing more of the tree painting the expanses of his skin.

If you weren’t so eager to be touched by him, you’d be studying the work of art.

As his lips met yours again, you ground your hips against his, eliciting a moan to vibrate through his chest. You raked your nails down his back, trying to further draw out reactions from him as his hands attentively played with the lace of your bra, fingers ghosting over the skin pressing against the cups.

His lips left yours only to travel the length of your jaw and inch his way toward your waistband. Your pants were discarded with a swift tug from him before he pulled your thighs flush against his, grinding his hips against yours, hands gripping onto your sides to keep you in place. You tilted your head back, relishing in the friction as your body screamed to finally feel him take advantage of you.

You reached between the two of you, tugging at his zipper as your hunger for him escalated. His tongue flattened against your collarbone before his teeth pressed into your skin. You could feel his arousal through his jeans at the sound of your whimpering.

He pumped himself in his hand before pressing into you, the feeling of him inside of you making your head spin as if you were on some kind of ecstasy. Your moan came out needy and desperate as he thrust into you, gripping the edge of the leather seat as his breath hummed against your skin. Your fingers threaded into his hair, raking your nails down his neck as he groaned in your ear at the feeling.

One of his hands grasped your wrists together, pinning them above your head while the other wrapped around your throat. His eyes burned into yours as he leaned back, leaning his weight on your wrists and squeezing your throat, the lack of oxygen making each of your senses more heightened as he pounded into you.

Your moans of George’s name were grated as they slipped through your mouth, his relentless pace and intense hold nearly making you drool from the stimulation. By the practice of his actions, you wondered how long he had been stewing on demolishing you in this way.

He loosened his grip on your neck, leaning down to press his lips against yours, dragging his teeth along your bottom lip just to hear you groan from the rough action. You rolled your hips against his, letting him slow his pace to reach deeper within you. A sadistic grin spread across his face as he rubbed a thumb across your cheek, wiping away the makeup smudging around your eyes from his antics and the heat between the two of you.

He pressed his lips to your neck, wrapping his hand around the edge of the chair again to drive himself into you, the new angle muddling your mind and vision as your body ached to come undone. You sank your nails into his back, earning his low, raspy whispers of your name.

At his praises, you came, tugging on his hair as he bit into your shoulder again, basking in the feeling of you clenching around him.

The next day, George stretched his shoulders, peering through the front window of his shop. His mind sparked with the feeling of your legs around his waist and the softness of your skin beneath his fingertips. He could practically hear you whimpering his name in his ears as he went back to touching up a fading tattoo on his friend’s arm.

“OW, George,” Clay rumbled, thigh flinching at the jab from George.

George snorted, his mind still on the high he got from your pure trust in him as you laid out on his chair. “I’ll give you something to bitch about,” George grumbled, releasing just how gentle he was during your tattoo. The way your voice got soft and quiet when he rolled over a spot that was rather tender already would most definitely be a guilty pleasure of his.

Clay barked at him again as George jerked his hand, fulfilling his promise. “I’VE BEEN NICE TO YOU ALL MORNING.”

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[bokuroskitten]

your piece about oral fixation was just 🤤 so now im super curious as to what kinda of gags you think the haikyuu captains + iwa would use on their partners.

oh anon, truly I'm grateful for this one. Because as a rope bunny, I think about it constantly. I didn't do every single haikyuu captain, just ones I feel I know the best. Enjoy the filth. ❦

ℌℭ❦

〈what kind of gags would the haikyuu captains (Bokuto, Terushima, Ushijima, Oikawa, Daichi, Kuroo, Kita) + Iwa enjoy using on their partner.

⋆genre: 18+ NSFW (Minors DNI)

⋆warnings: BDSM themes (use of bondage and gags), dom/sub dynamics (daddy & master title used), oral (female receiving), spit, degradation & dumbification

Bokuto couldn’t be bothered with gags. He likes to hear you falling apart on his cock, the whimpers, the cries, the begging. It’s all music to Bokuto’s ears. Although if you do want to be gagged Bokuto just uses his thick fingers down your throat or slaps his palm across your lips. Both methods effectively render you silent and he still gets the joy of feeling your moans vibrating along his skin.

“You’re so fucking loud, Birdy. The whole neighbourhood is gonna know you’re a desperate little cock whore. Isn’t that right baby Bird?” Bokuto’s voice was nothing but a growl up against your ear, his heavy balls still slapping ruthlessly against your ass as he plunged himself faster into your tight cunt. He went in at the perfect angel this time, his cock head pressing to that sweet spot that would have you screaming. Before the sound could slip out Bokuto pushed three fingers into your mouth, grinning as he watched drool bubble between his knuckles, your cries getting muffled into his skin.

“Yeaaa, suck away baby and take what’s given to you.”

⋆⋆⋆

Terushima is a horny one, typically just wants to get the job done quickly and easily, so he likes to use what’s around. This typically means he’s using his tie. He usually wears one to his job, or sometimes finds himself keeping a spare in his back pocket when you’re being extra annoying. He always ties a knot in the middle first, pressing it between your teeth before knotting the material behind your head. It’s effective enough to keep you muffled but simple enough that he can still see your lips tremble, watch drool darken the fabric and dribble down your chin.

“Careful princess, you want the boys to know I’m stuffing you full of cock?” He spoke through a wicked grin, his lips pressed to your pulse as his hands held your hips in a death grip. The subtle slap of your ass into his pelvis kept him on beat, along with the muffled cries you let out into his tie. One of his hands slithered up your bent form, making sure to squeeze one of your breasts on the way up before taking hold of your jaw. His long fingers brushed over your chin, the drool already gathering there making him pick up his pace. He pressed the knot he made in his tie further between your teeth, making you whimper a plea that had him chuckling.

“Messy fuckin thing, by the time I fill you up there’s gonna be a mess on your face and between your thighs.”

⋆⋆⋆

Ushijima is a simple man with simple desires. Despite that, he actually enjoys using a gag on you because it gives him even more power over you than you already give him. He typically won’t use one unless other BDSM elements are in play (his favourite is ropes because he likes to make intricate patterns over your skin) but his favourite type to use is a deep throat gag. In every sense of the word, Ushi is big and wants to make sure your tight little throat is ready to be used when he wants it to use it. There’s a couple of different sizes he uses that he has you build up with, but each one comes with a reward when you’re able to swallow it down without gagging.

Although his face was usually calm during sessions today was an exception as he worked the length of the gag between your lips. “Baby, tap out if you need to—“ But you just furrowed your brows at him, fists tightening in determination which were currently bound above your head. It was a sign for him to keep going, so he did. He pushed the slick silicon between your lips until the hilt rested against your lips. He didn’t do up the leather strap just yet, waited to see if you’d gag or choke with such a big size being shoved down your throat. But there you were, sitting pretty with tears riming your lashes, the gag pressing snuggly down on your tongue. Ushijima hummed out, pleased with such progress as he was slow to buckle up the leather strap. He pressed kisses along your jaw, a small smile creeping its way onto his lips.

“I’m so proud of you, little one.”

⋆⋆⋆

Oikawa will only use ring gags because it keeps your mouth wide open and ready to use whenever he feels he needs it. Plus it allows for him to still be able to hear you when you moan and cry for him. He also loves the mess you make with a ring gag, helpless to the drool and bubbling spit that falls from your chin. Sometimes as a form of punishment he’ll leave you between his thighs, arms bound and a ring gag held snuggly between your lips. He’ll stroke his cock lazily while watching tv, only grabbing a fist full of your hair to shove that sloppy mouth of yours onto his cock when he feels the need.

The whines you let out are ignored completely by Oikawa, a little huff leaving his lips as his eyes slowly slip from the screen down to between his legs. There you sat, eyes wide and mascara streak marks down your cheeks. Your body was already trembling, sitting on your hunches for whenever Oikawa decided to take hold of your hair once more. He could see the way your tongue tried to pick up some of the drool that fell from the ring, only making matters worse as a new little stream of spit fell off your chin to continue to dampen your tank top. Oikawa just couldn’t help himself, and in one swift motion, his hips were pressing his cock back between the ring, burying deep within your throat that had it constricting. He hissed softly before a small flutter of laughter escaped him.

“Fuck, at least this fucking throat is good for something. Maybe I should keep this ring on all the time so you’ll always be ready for my dick? You like the sound of that baby?” He was only met by muffled whines and gags as he bobbed your head along this length.

⋆⋆⋆

Daichi hates when you talk back to him, it makes him so tense because all he does is treat you like his perfect little princess. So when you do get mouthy he has no problem getting you worked up whenever you are. He’ll tease, whisper into your ear about how naughty your being, grab handfuls of your ass until you make a mess of your panties. He’ll then shove the filthy material between your lips. Not only will get to humiliate you then, but he’ll also get to punish you properly without having to hear a single peep from you.

“You think good little girls talk back to their daddy’s like you do? No. They listen, and they behave. Since you wanna use such a filthy mouth I’ll keep it filthy for you.” Your previous cries were brought down to muffles as Daichi forced your damp panties between your lips. Balled up and soaked from your precious arousal you can’t even help but let your eyes flutter, the taste of your own desire making your cheeks burn bright pink. Daichi has to scoff, fingers pressing into your cheeks as giving your jaw a little shake. “Taste that? That’s your filthy little cum stains. Imagine staining your own panties from a few promises of punishment?” His cock was heavy as he quickly freed it from his boxers, making you Yelp softly as it slapped down against your already soaked slit. He rubbed it along you a few moments, pressing into your cheeks harder to keep your panties in place.

“Maybe if I just fuck you stupid, you’ll stop talking altogether?”

⋆⋆⋆

Kuroo likes to keep with the classics, and there’s nothing more classic than a ball gag. He started off with wiffleball first, wanting you to feel nothing but comfortable before he moved on to solid silicon, balls that would leave your jaw aching after sessions. He loved the way you looked, sitting on your knees for him on the bed with a bright red ball gag wedged in your mouth, already covered in spit. He would the type to put on you whenever you felt like it just so he could coo about how pretty you looked. He also took many many pictures of your mouth stuffed, keeping a secret folder just for it.

“Stay still kitten,” Kuroo mumbled close to your ear, pressing a couple playful kisses to your lobe as he secured the black leather behind your head. He slipped two fingers into the band, making sure it was loose enough to pull off if needed but tighten to hold. Once he was pleased he pulled away, the most satisfying groan leaving his lips as yours were stretched around the bright red. “Perfect, my perfect fucking kitten...” he spoke, his thumb pressing along the ball as you blinked up at him with wide, needy eyes. Your hands stay still on your lap exactly where he instructed them, a little whine coming out muffled only when Kuroo pulled away from you fully. He rose a brow at that, the flash of disappointment in his gaze enough to have you resting back down on your hunches.

“Ah, I said stay still, Kitty. I’ll play with you soon I promise. But Daddy needs a few pictures of his beautiful baby before we can get started. So keep sitting pretty for me.”

⋆⋆⋆

Kita only uses any form of BDSM with you because you’re interested in it. When you brought it up to him he was very much unaware but did as much research as possible. He decides to start off with a bite gag because, unlike ball gags, it allows for more relaxation of the jaw, as well as causes less mess in terms of drool. Plus he’s always enjoyed watching you bite down on the sheets when you're feeling a lot of pleasure, so the bite gag allows for him to watch your teeth sink on so perfectly into the rubber.

Kita’s thrusts slowed almost too much for you, your pussy desperately fluttering around his length to bring back that friction. You wanted to beg him to keep going, pick the pace back up but all you could do was let out muffled cries, press your teeth further into the bite forced between your lips. Kita watched it all, the way your face twisted up with need, the way your back arched, the way your hips jutted forwards in hopes to feel more of him. He just let out a soft little groan, planting a firm palm on your hip to keep you in place as he continued his slow, dragged out thrusts into your throbbing cunt.

“Just a little longer like this, kay Darlin? I love seeing you bite into that gag, we’re gonna have to use it more often.”

⋆⋆⋆

Iwaizumi was used to using his hand, slapping it over your lips when he found you were getting too loud. But he never knew what to do with all your squirming. Cuffs were too simple and ropes just weren’t his vibe, but when he discovered bondage tape it was a whole other ball game. Not only was it perfect because it only stuck to itself, resulting in safer play, but it was very much effective in shutting you up when he needed you quiet. His favourite part is watching you flinch when he rips a piece away from the roll, the way you shiver in anticipation as he hovers the piece over your lips. It only when you're about to whine at him that he presses it against your lips, a grin curling on his lips.

“Fuck Princess, you’re tighter than usual? Excited?” Iwaizumi murmured, his grin growing as he watched your eyes roll up in pleasure. He brought a large palm up to your cheek, bringing your blurry vision back to his own. His thrusts slowed, allowing his thick cock to drag along that throbbing spot within you. That had your back arching, muffled little pleas melting into the tape that was held firm over your lips. Iwaizumi sighed softly, his thumb rubbing over the tape to feel out the outline of your pretty lips. The action had you nuzzling into his palm, another string of muffled nonsense trying to escape the tape and failing miserably.

“I know you’re begging me to move faster under here... but remember princess, Master makes the rules. So let’s keep you quiet and I’m gonna fuck you nice and slow.”

[softly-savage-mint-yoongi]

Blindfold

Blindfold Yunho x f.reader Genre: Smut Words: 3.8k Warnings: Not really any warnings but we’re into blindfolding and major teasing here, folks. Birthday sex.

Authors Note: I hope that writing this will quench my thirst and make him stop haunting my dreams. Please suffer with me.

March 23rd. A day you’ve had marked with three red ‘x’’s on your phone calendar for a month. A day you have thought about since Valentine’s Day, after your wonderful, loving, perfect-to-you-in-every-way boyfriend told you about something he would like to try. The conversation had been innocent enough, although there was some irony in it’s exchange, during post-sex cuddles on your bed.

He was all giggles, with soft hands and warm skin, voice lower than usual and just as tender. You could feel the gentle tickle of his lips at your hairline as they moved to form words. Easy words that spelled out his curious desire, “Maybe someday we could try blindfolding.” Those six simple words, spoken with a tangible smile and blushing cheeks, had you pulling your head back from the comfort of his neck to watch his face. Yunho was grinning, somehow shy after all this time, and proud of himself nonetheless. You smiled right back at him with your lips pressed to his chin when he playfully lifted his lips too high for you to reach in your position cradled against his chest. “If you want to blindfold me I would let you. I trust you.” you assured him, but he let out a soft laugh. He swallowed audibly under your full attention, clearing his throat to speak even softer, “Not you…” You said nothing, needing a moment to understand, “I want you to blindfold me.” Realization hit you, and a gut punch of arousal along with it, “Oh.” With your palm against his chest, you forced yourself up at the same time Yunho let you push him onto his back. You wasted no time in straddling his lap. You leaned forward, stretching yourself to place your hands over his eyes with a giggle. “I didn’t mean we had to do it right now!” he laughed, grasping your hands and removing them from his face to kiss your palms. Placing your hands on his stomach, you rolled your hips over his growing length, “Perhaps not, but I still want you right now.” His hands were already gripping your thighs the moment you moved against him. With a bite to his smirking lips, he followed your motions with actions of his own, “As you wish.”

X

So here you were, after careful planning and orchestration. Without letting them know the details of your plan, you made sure to enlist Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s help, or at least tell them you were trying to make plans for the evening on Yunho’s birthday. You didn’t expect any promises, but Seonghwa did text you this morning to tell you they would try to get him out on time.

You fold and unfold the long piece of silk in your lap, running your fingers over the smooth fabric and appreciating the pink color you chose. It matches the rest of the lace babydoll and panties that cover you.

Part of you is slightly nervous, while the other reminisces about all the reasons you shouldn’t be. Yunho has never been one to make you feel anything less than comfortable or wanted in your relationship, and sex between you is not new.

Perhaps your nerves are born of performance? You must be feeling this way because he specifically wanted this and if you don’t make it great for him then it will be a failure. Yunho has said the same thing to you many times, when he feels nervous about performing for his fans.

Just as you shake your head with resolve to make this wonderful for him, the bedroom door opens and you jump.

There he is, stopped in his tracks, standing with his hand still wrapped around the doorknob as he stares at you sitting there at the end of your bed.

“You’re home.” is what you say, trying to rebound off your surprise. You must have been so lost in thought you didn’t notice the sound of his arrival through the apartment. You don’t miss the way his presence seems to add a fond sense of ‘home’ to the room.

He gulps, an easy smile raising his cheeks. His duffel bag is tossed to the floor in front of the dresser and he closes the door, unzipping his training jacket until that too, is tossed to the floor.

“What’s all this?” he asks, standing in front of you. He dips low to capture your lips in a greeting, waiting for your answer when he regains his full height.

You goad him with a grin, “Why don’t you hurry up and shower so you can find out?”

Yunho’s brows lift momentarily as he turns toward the hamper, smirking back at you as he begins to undress. He takes a peek at your face with every piece that comes off, eating up the way your eyes ogle him in silence.

He checks just once more before ducking into the bathroom, making sure you’re staying put there on the bed.

You refuse to let your thoughts consume you anymore, enjoying the pleasant buzz that sizzles on your skin, left in the wake of his staring. Although it’s new, you were certain he would love this piece on you, having mentioned the few times you’ve worn lingerie, that he loves you most in soft colors that compliment your cuteness. Babydolls are your personal favorite, and he has agreed prior that they’re best for ease of access when he wants to fuck you while keeping something on.

You’re both laughing when your eyes meet after his shower. The unspoken acknowledgment that he’s probably broken a record for his shower time is funny to both of you.

He doesn’t bother with anything more than a towel around his hips, and you pluck it from his grip as soon as he is within reach, “You won’t be needing that.”

He smiles at you, allowing you to tug him forward onto the bed. Yunho’s fingers busy themselves with touching and pinching the lace that delicately hides your skin from him. He lifts the hem in his fist, watching it nearly float back down around you with a sigh.

He definitely loves it.

“I love this on you,” he admits a moment later, his eyes seeking yours. The tone of his voice always melts you like this- when it’s full of love and ardor.

You gesture towards the headboard, allowing him a moment to get comfortable in your requested position before you straddle him. He hisses at the contact of your covered heat against his length, half hard since he came out of the shower from anticipation alone.

Yunho reaches up, collecting you by the nape of your neck and urging you down so he can kiss you. His lips move against yours exactly how you like, slow and building. He does this sometimes, when he wants you to be putty in his hands- not that you ever resist.

Except, today you have to take some control. Pushing past the bubbling nerves in your gut, you lean back. He chases you- leaning forward and consuming you, adamant that he isn’t finished sampling you.

It pulls a gentle moan from your throat when he moves his lips down to it. He holds you in place, caged against his body with his own arms clutching you to him. Your eyes pop open, remembering not to get pulled under the waves of euphoria with him just yet. Today is about his pleasure.

“Yunho,” you say, but it comes out as a whine.

“Yeah, baby?” he coos back, still working his mouth against your neck.

A deep breath leaves you, “Stop for a second.”

Immediately he sits back, with eyes full of concern. He searches your face for any sign of discomfort, and his expression morphs into confusion, followed by realization a moment later when he notices the length of silk in your hands.

You lift it up between you, bashful and smiling. You’re eager for his reaction, and your boyfriend doesn’t disappoint.

“Is it my birthday?” he wonders aloud.

You snort a laugh at him, taking a playful swat at his chest, “It is, you dork.”

He gives you a dazzling, heart-clenching, silly grin at your response, “Oh, yeah.”

“Now sit still, please.” you instruct, unable to hide your growing smile at his immediate and eager obedience.

He waits, eyes closed, but unable to help the way his length twitches against your core as you wrap the silk over his eyes.

“All good under there? Can you see how many fingers I’m holding up?” you ask, not bothering to hold up any at all.

“No, but I can feel both your hands on me so nice try.” he says, and you can hear the shit-eating grin in his tone.

He earns himself a swipe of your tongue over his neck at his snarky remark, and the resulting sharp inhale you’re rewarded with is enough sweet justice for you.

He’s smiling when you pull away, tugging here and there to make sure it isn’t too tight nor too loose. He groans when you give him no warning and take his face into your hands, kissing him deeply.

You don’t stop your attention, kissing him until the sound of your lips feels deafening in the silence of the room. His hands grip your waist, gently rocking you back and forth along him in tandem.

It’s enough, you decide, when you break for air and he’s panting with flushed cheeks and heated skin. “Are you going to be okay, baby?”

He swallows thickly, then smiles, and you resist the urge to coo at the way his cheeks look rounder with the blindfold over his eyes. “Keep going.”

“Of course,” you comply in a sultry tone, “Just relax.”

He does as you’ve asked, allowing you to rise from his lap and push his legs apart further. He bites his lip with anticipation- feeling your weight dip the bed between his legs.

You enjoy the opportunity to tease, letting out huffs of your warm breath to ghost along his fully erect cock. He remains still and slack-jawed, awaiting your every movement. Unwilling to waste the moment, you admire him briefly- reclined on your bed, naked in all his glory. Yunho is gorgeous, but knowing he is just as beautiful beneath the surface makes your chest swell with great love.

The sight before you is something you aim to burn into memory for every sleepless, needy night that you miss him. His abs are taut, strained with anticipation and heavy breaths. His arms rest at his sides, feigning relaxation as his fingers dance with a stray thread on the blanket beneath him. His mouth is open just slightly and his brows are knit together in valiant concentration.

The part that pulls a low hum of appreciation from your throat is his full erection. Thick, red and leaking onto his abdomen, you’re spurred into action with the desire to see him a mess.

The first touch you deliver is a kiss, just on the edge of his hip. Slowly and deliberately, you firmly plant wet, open-mouthed kisses lower and closer to where he grows desperate for you. You’re paying attention to his reaction with every ministration and you must admit you are quickly becoming intoxicated with this game.

The power you feel, and how his every tiny reaction drives the spike of arousal deeper into your veins. He holds his breath, knowing the next place your lips will find is his cock if you keep going. With a tactical pause, you skip over it, smiling at his flushed cheeks, and let your lips flutter over the top of his thigh instead.

Yunho releases his held breath with a long and dour groan.

“Please don’t tease.” he whispers quietly, gasping when you suddenly rise up and lave the flat of your tongue around his left nipple. His hand jerks up with the desire to touch, but he resists. You didn’t ever tell him he couldn’t, but let him decide on his own what he wants to do. After all, this is about his pleasure.

The next moment you’ve swooped back down, gently taking the head of him into your mouth, and he reacts with a jerk of his hips and a loud moan. Garbled sounds of pleasure drop freely from his lips, his head thrown back as you take him as far back as you can.

The wet slurping is an erotic audio that pours heat into your own cheeks, and you can imagine that Yunho must feel like that sound is surrounding him with the subconscious focus of his ears.

“Oh, fuck baby… mmm, fuck.” he whines quietly when you use a hand to pump the base of his length that you can’t fit comfortably. He raises a hand again, and you watch as he bites his lip and resists the urge to tangle his fingers in your hair- instead balling a fist and settling it back at his side.

You continue like this for several minutes, switching your rhythm and pattern here and there to stroke or suck him the way you know he likes. When his breath is coming in ragged pants and his thighs begin the slightest tremble, you slow, and eventually release him.

Yunho’s protest is audible, and you cup his cheek at the adorable way his lips are pouted open and his brows are strung together with his plea.

“I want this to last.” you assure him, “It’ll be worth it.”

“Kiss me then,” he barters with you, breathless. His request is one you can comply with, planting a kiss directly to his lips and he tries so hard to kiss you into submission with his plush lips.

“That’s not fair,” you coo.

He smiles, shaking his head and leaning forward, “You’re not being fair.”

Leaning into him, you make sure to wrap your arms around his neck and whisper directly into his ear, “Don’t act like you didn’t want this.”

The resounding moan he tries to suppress is not lost on you, and he settled back with the clearing of his throat.

Straddling his thigh, you settle yourself in a comfortable position to kiss across his chest. Your mouth works higher until you’re biting gently at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. He moans softly in reward, finally allowing himself the pleasure of your skin beneath his fingers, pacified with touching your thigh where it rests.

Your hand reaches down and you let your fingers wrap around his cock again at the same moment you gently suck on the place you’d just bitten. Your boyfriend is louder now, letting a throaty moan peel from his lips with your fist around his aching length.

He hisses when you repeat your marking a little higher, just below his ear. Yunho’s hand grips you tighter, letting it roam beneath the pretty lace, toward the fullness of your ass and digging his fingertips in to urge you into motion upon his leg.

“Fuck.” he whispers lowly on a breath as you set a rhythm with your fist once more. His head falls back against the headboard, his hips softly canting up with every pump.

As if he had intended it that way, his throat is now conveniently exposed for your lips and teeth. You want to make excellent use of his generosity, but the ache of emptiness in your cunt demands more attention.

Wordlessly, you sit up, shimmying yourself out of the matching panties and letting your knees settle on either side of his hips. Every rustle of fabric and movement you make is one that Yunho absorbs with great anticipation.

He doesn’t know exactly what you’re up to yet, but he can smell your perfume and your sex and feel your proximity over him. With wandering hands, he reaches out, tentatively, catching the left side of your waist first. All it takes is a simple swipe of his thumb and the comforting palm of his hand for him to realize exactly what part of your body he is holding, even through the lace.

That notion makes you softer for him, smiling sweetly at the dusty rose on his face as he reaches up to palm your breast. His free hand slides to your back, pulling you closer so he can attach his tongue to the nipple he’s found budding beneath the fabric of your lingerie.

The friction and heat makes you whine, admittedly turned on more than you thought possible with the addition of a simple piece of silk around Yunho’s head.

He spoils you with his hands now, roaming all over your curves, mostly followed by his mouth. He’s still short of breath, but smiles nonetheless when he locates at first your nose and then your lips with his own kisses. He doesn’t try any tricks this time.

His kiss pauses immediately when his hands, having wandered down and beneath the lacy fringe, find you bare. He groans at the feel of your skin, audibly basking in the pleasure it gives him to glide two fingers through your wetness with practiced ease.

Yunho dips one long digit into your heat, eating up the sound of your cry. Your hands hold him at his neck and his shoulder, leaning into his frame to stay steady. His face is less than an inch from your shoulder, and he takes advantage of the proximity to turn his head and capture the side of your neck with his mouth.

A second finger joins the first, gliding through your wetness and creating obscene squelching sounds with every thrust into your pussy. You’re beginning to lose yourself, completely indulged in the feeling of him absolutely everywhere.

He loves it just as much, groaning at the sounds you’re making just because of him.

“Does that feel good baby?” he suddenly asks, and the tone of his voice is absolutely sinful.

“Yes.” you whimper into his ear.

He grunts, “I’m gonna come if we keep playing like this.”

The admission is a tempting offer, but you don’t want to end the fun too early. Instead, you think it best to ask him, “What do you want me to do?”

He leans back again, reclining against the pillows, and you allow him to guide you now by feel. To do what he wants with you. “Why don’t you have a seat, baby?” he coos mischievously.

Teasing him further, you take advantage of the position and settle your core over his abs. He makes a sound in his throat akin to a growl and grabs your bottom with both hands and pulls you back into an upright position on your knees.

He kneads the malleable flesh for no longer than a second before he sits up straighter and tells you, “Sit on my cock.”

The dirty words leaving his mouth send sparks up your spine, and you do as you’re told. He’s already got one fist around the base of himself, aiding you in sliding down along the length he’s presented you with.

Watching his face contort with pleasure as you sink over him is by far one of your favorite parts of sex with your boyfriend. He’s so expressive, and the breathy moan that spills from his mouth when you’ve settled completely sends you halfway to heaven already.

Yunho is completely flushed, now. With the rosy tint creeping down his neck to his chest and the two small blooming violets you’ve given him, he adjusts to wrap one arm around your waist while the other is propped behind him on the bed so he can stay upright.

You set to work immediately, rolling your hips over him to a rhythm you can both enjoy. He’s panting again, stimulated to sensitivity from the restriction to his vision.

Mewling sounds leave your mouth, hanging open as you continuously spear yourself on his length. He gives a particularly hard thrust that sends you toppling forward onto his chest. As if he intended it that way, he naturally holds you against him and scoots down the bed- enough to plant his feet firmly so he can rock into you with more strength.

This position is your favorite and he knows it. The sound of your cries amplify with the angle of his cock into your depths, and the sounds are diving right into his ear. You’re rapidly approaching your orgasm in this position.

He grunts, baring his teeth as he thrusts into you roughly. “Fuck, Yuyu… oh my god, fuck, yes.” you breathe the words against him, and he delivers you a loud, rewarding groan.

“I can’t, oh fuck this is so good.” he praddles desperately, slowing to flip you onto your back.

He rips the silk away from his eyes, not bothering to toss it from his hand as his gaze finds your face. The mutually fucked out expressions you share spurs him on, working quickly to push your knee up to your shoulder as he drives his cock deeper into you.

The wildness in his eyes catches you off guard and he can feel your walls tightening around him. Yunho immediately places his thumb on your clit, sending you rapidly spiraling into euphoria. He wants to feel you come undone around him.

The added stimulation sends you over the edge and you seize up, crying out his name in a high-pitched moan.

He follows you on a ragged breath a moment later, unable to withstand the pleasure. He slows, thrusting steadily at a declining pace and strength until he’s spent, leaning over your frame with a blissful expression.

It takes several moments for you both you regain your breaths, and when Yunho finally slips from your core and rolls onto his side, you think he is simply stunning. You stay in your position for a few seconds longer, spying him as he throws his arm over his eyes and smiles.

“Mmm, baby, you’re amazing. That was...” he pauses to mull over choice words “Incredibly hot.” he breathes, slowly regaining a normal heart rate. You stir at his praise, finding enough strength in your jellied limbs to pull yourself against his chest.

“Did you like it?” you wonder, just to confirm what you already know.

He exhales a soundless laugh, lifting his arm just enough to grin at you, “That was some of the best sex we’ve ever had. Top three personal favorites.”

It’s a running joke between you to sometimes rank the best sex you’ve had together, and you giggle at his opinion, pleased with yourself.

“I put so much work into that, I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

He removes his arm finally, placing it around you instead. He squeezes you just enough that his lips can reach the crown of your hair. “Thank you.”

“Happy Birthday baby.” you finally say with a kiss to his lips.

It isn’t until four days later, the next time you see the rest of his group, that you’re made privy to the fact that he told them- in great detail- about the birthday gift he received from you when Wooyoung makes a joke about using the tie Yunho is wearing as a blindfold.

Your boyfriend fails to meet your sharp gaze when you look at him immediately after. It’s fine, you tell yourself. You’ll get your revenge.

“That’s alright,” you assure the group. “I’ll just have to use handcuffs on him next time, too.”

You keep a stone face until you catch Jongho’s head whip up at your statement, and the look of pure horror on his face sends you into a fit of laughter.

[inkykeiji]

you be the match, i will be your fuse

fluffy anon said: dabi coming home after an absolutely horrid day at work and just needing to be absolutely BABIED by reader (i’m talking cuddling in bed, taking a bath with him and washing his hair then getting out just rubbing his back as he sleeps with his head on your chest)

genre: angst + fluff, laced with just a hint of smut (like two sentences)

notes: aaaah happy birthday dabi!!! this has absolutely nothing to do with your birthday but eeee ily | title cred: sure thing by miguel

warnings: 18+, implied/mentioned death of a child, one instance of implied past physical abuse, self-destructive behaviour + coping mechanisms, co-dependent toxic relationship

words: 3.5k

It’s thundering the day it happens, ferocious growls that rumble through your apartment—a tiny, quaint space you share with Dabi, full of faulty appliances and cracked linoleum—rolling, fluffy grey clouds blanketing the entire sky, swollen with restrained rain droplets as a storm brews within them. Little fingers idly toy with the yellowed pages of your worn pulp fiction novel, flipping through them and bending corners as your eyes search the angry sky, chewing on your cheek.

Dabi should’ve been home by now. It’s not like him to be late without calling, without letting his babygirl know what’s going on—he knows the way you worry, the way you overthink yourself into a frenzy, the way you’re so clingy and needy, teases you about it incessantly and tells you he thinks it’s cute—and a deep sense of dread takes root in the pit of your stomach, dark and bitter and unfurling, quickly spreading throughout the cavity of your chest.

His phone must be off—no, it’s never off, he doesn’t do that anymore, not since you stumbled into his life—his phone must be dead, your repeated calls growing increasingly frequent and urgent every time you’re greeted with the drone of his automatic voicemail.

Something’s wrong, horribly so.

It’s evident the moment he arrives home, scratched brass doorknob slamming against the wall, deepening the crater its left from past incidents of a similar manner.

It infects the air around him, hanging heavy and thick, its dense presence nearly suffocating. His shoulders slump under the pressure, the weight of whatever he’s carrying practically crushing, as he drags his crimson splattered boots through the front door, soles scraping against the cheap hardwood, bringing the putrid scent of charred flesh with him—his or someone else’s, you don’t know.

You swear you can almost see it, this—this thing, this aura, enveloping him in its haughty embrace as his chest heaves under a deep, controlled breath, pausing in the foyer as the door shuts behind him.

Bare feet pad against the floor, your legs moving without your explicit permission, drawn towards him in an almost instinctual manner, the desire to care for, to comfort, burning as it bubbles up in your chest, mixing with that intense sense of trepidation and invading your veins.

He permits you to wrap your arms around his torso as you nuzzle against him, body going rigid for a moment, still and stiff as marble, before he exhales again, melting into your embrace.

Several questions race through your mind at such a speed that they crash and clash together, becoming nothing more than incoherent jumbled lettering, tiny fingers curling in the fabric of his clothing as you try to pull him closer, nonsensical babbling spilling from your lips. A vacant ghost of a chuckle leaves his lips, nothing more than a simple huff of breath, and he squeezes you closer.

“Bad day?” the words are mumbled against his dirty t-shirt, what was once a pristine white now tarnished with ash and blood. You don’t get a response—you don’t expect one.

He doesn’t talk much, not on days like this.

He doesn’t need to.

Bad days—really bad, terrible, awful days such as this one—are surprisingly rare with Dabi. Sure, he’s had the typical ‘bad’ day before, where someone pisses him off, or he gets into a fight with his superior, but those bad days usually require railing you into your creaky, springy king-sized mattress until you’ve forgotten everything but his name and he’s fucked all of the anger and hatred out of his body.

They are not like this one. No, on days such as this, on days where he’s killed someone he deems to be innocent, someone who—like him—is a victim of heroism, he’s quiet, distant, unpredictable, bordering on unhinged, and you’ve learned to tread with extreme discretion.

But you don’t push, either, resolving to communicate through gentle touches, soft fingertips that run along his tense, broad shoulders and press into the hard coiled muscles, tender fingers that thread through inky tufts of hair, sapphire eyes closing as he hums and leans into the motion like a cat.

It’s only for a second, though, just a moment of weakness before he’s breaking out of your embrace, pushing past you and clearing his throat, glass door to the balcony sliding shut a moment later. 

You don’t follow. You know better than that now, a phantom sting in your cheek serving as a reminder, the resounding sharp sound of glass shattering as it’s hurled at the floor slicing through your mind with such viciousness it makes you wince. 

Instead, you sit. And you wait. Like you’re supposed to, like a good little girl, a book clutched between your quivering hands, unblinking eyes staring at the words on the page, nothing but incomprehensible symbols—lines and lines of black ink in meaningless shapes—as scorching sapphire loops through your mind.

Be a good girl, give him space, let him come to you. Be a good girl, give him space, let him come to you. Be a good girl. Give him space. Let him come to you.

It’s standard procedure, really.

And eventually, he does, comes back inside with an empty bottle of whiskey clutched in a hand, along with a crumpled package of cigarettes. You don’t know how long it’s been, muscles sore and joints aching from sitting in the same position for so long, eyes dry from staring at the same page, barely moving, barely breathing. His hand is bleeding, knuckles bruised and gleaming with sticky scarlet that’s still fresh and flowing, but it could be worse. It has been worse.

The harsh clink of the bottle against the kitchen counter makes you flinch, and he sighs, heavy and full of derision, eyes flicking up to glare at your side profile.

“I can hear you thinking,”

“You’re filthy, baby,” the words tumble past your lips, uncontrollable, involuntary, almost reflexive in your response, eyes snapping to his face and voice whiny, voice pleading. “Take a bath with me,”

And you can see it—can see it in the dark cobalt of his irises, what he needs, the very thing he’s fighting himself on, the very thing he’s fighting so hard against. Always so stubborn, so reluctant, so cautious.

Because, fuck, he used to be able to resist it, this pathetic ache for comfort—something that’s only managed to grow in your presence, that’s shifted and morphed from a dull smoldering to a raging fire, an insatiable longing for your fingers in his hair and your breath on his skin and your voice against his ear—a skill he’d been constructing, developing, perfecting, since he was thirteen years old. A skill you succeeded in shattering in the matter of a few measly months.

Because you—you’re different. And he hates it sometimes, he swears to the good Lord he does, but hating it doesn’t make it any less true. You break him down, you make him weak, you make him want, and the longer he spends around you, the more he finds that he doesn’t fucking care. And that’s irritating, that’s exciting, that’s terrifying, that’s new. 

Fury blisters his chest, his lungs, his throat as he holds your stare, jaw clenching twice. But you don’t falter, not like the rest of them, not like anyone else—everyone else. You never falter, always so eager to see the good in him, a snort leaving his nose at the thought. The good in him. Is there any good left in him? Was there ever any good in him in the first place? Are you the good in him, now? Does he care?

And he’s not sure he’ll ever understand it, but he’s beginning to realize that, maybe, he doesn’t have to. 

Maybe, it doesn’t matter. Maybe, it’s okay, if you love him, if he loves you.

Maybe.

It’s too much, and he can feel frustration stinging his eyes, long delicate eyelashes fluttering as he quickly blinks it away. Spears, sharp and cold, splinter your chest at the sight, but you know if you begin crying too, you’ll lose him. You know that if you begin showing what he considers weakness, he’ll pull away, even though this is what he so clearly needs most. 

So you steel yourself, swallowing hard against the pain collecting in your throat, will the tears away and force your body to stay calm, approaching him slowly as if he’s some sort of feral animal prone to lashing out. 

Apprehension is clear in his azure eyes, head tilting a little as they narrow, regarding you with skepticism, with suspicion. 

It’s bold, and dangerous, and—as far as Dabi’s concerned—fucking stupid, but you don’t care, determined to prove to him that you aren’t going anywhere regardless of how many tantrums he throws, no matter how many times he hurts you in his anguish. It’s almost desperate, really, this sheer need to prove to him that you aren’t scared of him, that irrespective of how soft he seems to think you are, you are strong, even if it’s in ways he could never understand, that you can be strong for him, when he needs it, that he can borrow some of your strength, if he needs to.

And that—that’s why he loves you. It hits him hard, as this realization always does, kicks him in the chest and knocks the breath out of him every time, and he’s not sure he’ll ever get used to it.

A tiny hand hangs in the air between the two of you, Dabi regarding the offer with a wary hesitance. Wiggling fingers attempt to entice him, earning a tiny smirk—a massive victory—as sapphire flits up to gaze at you through thick lashes, an eyebrow raised.

You match his expression, quirking an eyebrow of your own and nodding at your hand, speaking a moment later.

“Let me in, baby,” the words are barely above a whisper, but they’re so raw, filled with so much unadulterated love it hurts, pure and real and everything he’s never had before. “Let me help,”

And, God, it’s fucking overwhelming, how badly he wishes to give in to this unfamiliar compassion, how desperately he desires your affection, despite the malicious voice echoing off the walls of his skull, berating him for being so pathetic, so weak, so vulnerable.

But the urge to accept, to seek out consolation in you, wins, just as it always does, that nasty voice reverberating in his mind silenced the very instant his skin touches yours.

You let him make the last move, allow him to make that final decision entirely on his own accord, to grasp your hand in his, warm and rough, and pull you towards him, crushing you against his chest as he buries his face in your hair, eyes squeezed shut against that annoying burn of tears, chest stuttered with a hitched breath, air that gets caught in his throat as he chokes on the words he wants to say.

But he doesn’t need to say them. You already know.

“Come,” you murmur to him, fingers threading through the tufts of hair at the nape of his neck. “Let’s take a bath,”

     ✰          ✰          ✰

The bathwater stings your skin, just a hint too hot to be comfortable, but you say nothing as you settle onto his lap in the cramped little tub, encompassed by frothy bubbles, dainty scent of orange citrus tickling your nose.

Heated fingertips press into your hips as he finds comfort the only way he knows how to, in your precious little whimpers and broken moans of his name as he bounces you on his cock, so vigorously you’re positive you can feel him in your tummy, the pads of his fingers searing his prints into your skin.

It’s heady, it’s intoxicating, it’s addicting, heightened emotions both pleasant and unpleasant swirling together with the symphony of your cries and his grunts as the water you’re submerged in begins to bubble and boil, to crack and pop, sudsy liquid sloshing over the side of the tiny tub as he forces you to ride him, faster and faster and faster until you’re whining and convulsing around him, and he’s filling you with thick cum, cock throbbing aggressively as he spurts load after load into you.

After, as he leans back against the cold tile, residual droplets sizzling into steam as his heated skin touches them. Gentle fingers card between his hair, water cascading through onyx strands as it pours over his head from a worn plastic cup—a faded Darth Vader staring back at you as you rhythmically repeat your actions until the tresses stick to his forehead and cheeks, drenched and shining in the low light of the washroom.

Heavy lids obscure the most brilliant sapphire from you as shampoo is massaged into his scalp, slow and unhurried and thorough, every stroke, every comb through inky clumps easing the turmoil in his mind bit by bit, calming the storm that’s been raging inside of him for hours now. Deep hums rumble in his chest as your fingers continue their ministrations, your eyes trained on your motions. And you can feel it, the tension dissipating from his body with each circle of foam rubbed into his soft hair, shoulders finally beginning to relax as he subconsciously nuzzles into your touch, following it, longing for it, aching for more.

He shifts then, after you’ve rinsed the soap from his hair, manhandling you into a position between his thighs, bare chest pressed tightly against your back. You work hard to keep your body from tensing, forcing your breathing to stay even, to stay calm as you brace yourself for what’s coming next.

“He was eleven,” he says after several long moments of silence, voice low and trembling, hoarse and heavy with remorse. “This time.”

This time. That’s the third innocent civilian—innocent by his standards, at least—this month.

That’s the first time it’s ever been a child.

You don’t turn around to look at him, not yet—he isn’t finished—simply opting to lace your fingers through his and bring your joined hands to your lips, kissing each wounded knuckle, crude staples catching in the dim warm light of the tiny bathroom. 

You want to tell him it wasn’t his fault, even though it was. You want to tell him anything that’ll make him feel better, that’ll absolve the guilt so evidently gnawing away at his insides, even though you know there’s nothing you can say.

“What are—I don’t even—” his voice breaks and you feel his chest stutter against your back, feel him exhale harshly, breath cool on your damp shoulder, feel him swallow thickly as he tries again. Because as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, as much as he would never admit it, you know he needs release this from the confines of his mind—you know you’re the only person who can offer him such an outlet. “Why the fuck were there kids there in the first place? Huh? They shouldn’t—They shouldn’t have been there,”

Orphans are everywhere in this city, you murmur, lips moving against his rough skin. He knows. Orphans of heroes. He knows.

“I’m gonna kill Shigaraki, I swear to Christ. Sending us to a—a fucking place infested with fucking ch-children,” his fingers curl around yours, hand beginning to shake as it clutches you like a lifeline, like that guilt will devour him from the inside out, like he’ll disintegrate into nothingness, if he doesn’t. “I bet you he fucking knew—nah, I-I’m positive he did. Asshole only cares about himself, though. Doesn’t matter that—that the cause we’re supposed to be fighting for affects these stupid kids,”

You’re right, love.

The words leave your lips in a gentle breath, leaning your head back against his collarbone and staring up at him. Cobalt eyes stay trained on the cracked tile wall, jaw methodically clenching as his molars grind together, an attempt to quell the trembling of his chin, exhaling hard harsh breaths through flared nostrils.

“Whatever,” he huffs, voice still wavering and not nearly as self-assured as he wishes. “Th-That brat shouldn’t have been there in the first place,”

He shouldn’t have, you agree, finally squirming in his grasp, turning to face him, to straddle his hips again in the tight space of the tub. And he welcomes your affections readily this time, arms encircling your waist as he holds you tightly to him, blunt nails digging purple-tinged crescents into your flesh as he shoves his face against your neck, finally allowing those emotions he’s been fighting to leak from his eyes and absorb into your skin.

Little palms rub soothing circles into his back as he shudders against you, allowing him to empty his soul onto you as soft lips press chaste kisses to his damp hair, waiting until there’s nothing left, until his eyes are drained, azure glassy and bloodshot, nose twitching and red.

And after he’s done, when he finally pulls back, scrubbing aggressively at his nose as tiny sniffles hitch in his chest, gentle fingers begin to lather soap into his skin, washing away the dirt and grime and blood from the day. Fingertips carefully trace along the metal sutures decorating his body with immeasurable adoration, you whispering all of the things he so desperately needs to hear that he’d never dare to ask for, complimented by the tender touches that cleanse his soul with their unconditional love.

He’s bigger than you are, but that doesn’t stop you from trying to wrap him in a fluffy white towel, using another in an attempt to dry his hair as your hands move in shaggy motions, heart soaring in your chest when you pull a soft laugh from his lips, wet and wobbly and croaky, but a laugh nonetheless.

A mutual silence, gentle and comforting and stuffed full of an immense love, a special kind of love, a love words do not exist to explain, swathes your bodies as he allows you to dress him, pulling a ratty old band tee over his head and a pair of plaid PJ pants up his legs.

“You always look so cute in my clothes,” he rasps from his spot perched on the edge of the bed, glowing crystal eyes watching as you pull one of his t-shirts over your naked body.

A genuine bubble of laughter erupts from your throat as you climb into bed with him, immediately allowing him to latch onto you, to pull you towards him, to hold you close like his own personal plushie.

“Sleep,” you murmur as the two of you settle into a comfortable position, limbs tangled together, his head resting on your chest, fingers threading through his hair and then tracing down his neck, his back. “And then I’ll make you ramen,”

“The spicy kind?”

“Of course,”

I love you.

“Extra spicy?”

Laughing again, you feel his lips curve into a smile against your skin, grip around your torso tightening. “Extra spicy. Now, rest,”

More than anything else.

“With the little fish cakes?”

“Your favourite little fish cakes,”

More than words could ever tell you.

“And the pork belly?”

“And the pork belly,” you feel his chest rise with an inhale, hastily adding, “And those little cream puffs you love so much, from that dingy convenience store downstairs, for dessert. Now sleep, baby,”

He laughs, even though his vision is blurring, even though it comes out more strangled than anything else, because he doesn’t want to cry again, because his chest stings and aches and swells and warms, full of inexplicable emotions, feels like it’s going to fucking burst as it chokes and reinvigorates him all at once, and—God, he loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

Because even though he’s terrified beyond belief, he’s willing to try—just for you, only for you—as he continually realizes with each passing day that he isn’t sure what the fuck he’d do without you, now. Because you’re too entangled up in his life, too deeply embedded in his very soul, for him to ever remove you, now. Because as petrifying and unfamiliar as it is, he doesn’t want to, now.

Because even though he’s broken, irrevocably so, and you can’t fix him, won’t fix him, you’ll still stay, to hold those pieces so gently, so tenderly in your hands, you’ll still protect those fragments and keep them from shattering further, you’ll still give them the affection and devotion they need, the affection and devotion they deserve. Because you love every part of him, even the bad ones, even the shards with jagged edges that cut into the soft flesh of your palms every time you caress them.

Because you accept him wholeheartedly, flaws and all, and that’s—he’s never experienced anything like that before, this unlimited, unreserved, unquestioning love. And although he doesn’t know how to say this, isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to find the right words to communicate it, he’s beginning to learn that unfamiliar doesn’t always mean bad; that sometimes, it’s okay—it’s good—to be vulnerable. He’s beginning to learn that with you, in the warmth of your shitty little apartment, with the stove that only has two functioning burners and the fridge that’s perpetually too cold, he can be, without judgement, without fear, without trepidation.

Because you are his only salvation, and he wouldn’t trade this for the goddamn world.

[luimagines]

Do time or the other links smoke? Or drink? Or do some kind of drugs? I mean when your out heroing you're going to get alot of traum

Something they all at least somewhat have to try and take the edg off or do they have other ways of coping? I am sorry if this sounds like an ask,i was more along the lines trying to get your speculation on the matter

Masterlist

I see what you're saying and I do think that some of them would have had bad habits in the past but yeah-

They do need some time to take the edge off and refocus themselves in the present, but how do they do that in a healthy and safe way?

Let's talk about that.

I don't think I have all the necessary tags so go forth at your own discretion.

Time

Time would have definitely had a drinking problem that would have started in his Termina days.

He's never really felt the need to drink though- he only found that it would have kept him from going crazy.

But as he got out of there and talked more to Malon (and have his supply cut off- (just because he knew where to get it in Termina doesn't mean he knows where to get it in Hyrule, (nor would they give it to him, even if he did))), I like to think that he would have had to find other ways to calm himself down and think rationally through his thoughts and desires.

It happens by accident.

He was working at Lon Lon Ranch when he needed to go chop some wood and he found the repetitive and strenuous work, soothing.

He felt good. Accomplished even.

And a little disappointed when he was finished.

But he started doing that whenever he could and it became his main way to not only blow off some steam but to also calm himself down.

It helps with his anxiety and his need to help feel useful even when nothing is really happening that would require his assistance.

Twilight

Twilight finds that manual labor actually makes his anxiety worse.

He can't really find it within himself to get lost in it because he's already programmed for that to be a part of his day to day life anyway. So his brain can still go on and on even as he gets his chores done.

Twilight finds that a secluded spot with little distraction works best.

He's never really dabbled in other ways to deal with it nor has it come to his mind.

All he knew one say was that everything was too much and that he needed to be in a different area entirely.

No people, no noise.

He likes to hang out by small creeks or by the lake and fish if he really needs an excuse to do something.

Bonus points if he can rest with one of his favorite goats nearby, but that's few and far in between.

It's less meditation and more taking in the moment and letting time slip by for a change.

No to do lists, no action, no survival, no need to be on the run.

Just breath.

Warrior

Warrior would have smoked during the war but I don’t think he’d actually tolerate it all that well. I feel like he’d be more inclined to drink away his problems but with shortages left and right, and all efforts going into the war, there just wouldn’t be enough to go around.

So he’d smoke and hate it.

But it worked in a pinch.

Afterwards, whether through Mask’s and Wind’s influence or the end of the war, he’d want to find a way to quit.

It wasn’t easy but I feel like Warrior would attempt to quit cold turkey. Just drop the habit completely and what does he do when he feels the need arise again?

It’s actually little said than done, but he paints.

It’s less with ink and paint and more so, just moving his hands and a brush around.

If he happens to have a canvas it’s better but again, not easy to come around.

So what Warrior ends up doing most of the time, is taking a brush and some homemade ink from berries and brushing it over his scars. His favorite spot is the massive burn covering his left arm left behind as a gift from the Dragon Knight.

It feels tingly and electric, static follows the brush and the muscles clench with energy from the contact but while it’s uncomfortable for a while, it’s also not entirely unpleasant and it’s soothing to watch and feel. And it grounds Warrior in the moment until he no longer feels the urge.

When the urge is gone, he still does it when he feel anxious and concerned. Late at night is typical time for him to do this, where no one would see him or his scars and judge him for it.

Sky

Sky in the beginning would have slept more than he did before.

He was already inclined to fall asleep easily before all of his trauma, but afterwards he seemed to lose motivation to continue with the idea that things would go back to normal. There was still a lot of expectation placed on his shoulders and it was frankly not something he wanted to deal with.

So he sleeps.

Now this turns into more of a problem with being able to stay awake and to stay concentrated. It’s hard for him to pay attention to anything beyond him and that won’t do, considering me still has to finish his schooling.

What Sky does more often than not to keep him tethered to the present moment is work with his hands. He’s already had the tools for wood whittling but he was never allowed to use them in class and it ends being a bigger mess sometimes than he’s willing to deal with in general.

Sky also has some small pockets of clay that he fidgets with to keep his hands moving and he can keep it under his desk so that it’s not that distracting in class.

It helps him focus and when he thinks about what he’s been through and what he plans to do next, it keeps him from getting overwhelmed.

Wild

I think Wild would have just gone silent and unmoving when he’s having a bad day.

Kind of similar to how he gets when’s trapped in a memory but for longer and he doesn’t eat or sleep. It could last days at a time. He doesn’t even move unless he’s prompted or dragged to the spot.

The lights are on but no one’s home you know.

There’s not a lot he can do when it happens. Everyone just has to wait for it to pass and hope that it passes quickly.

But Wild gets better with time to know the signs when of one of those days is coming.

It’s not much, but Wild like to hop on the back of his horse and just take off.

Feel the rushing wind on his face and through his hair. He’s a full gallop for a while until the poor horse gets tired. At that point he just goes to the nearest stable and exchanges horses to do the whole thing over again.

Sometimes, when that’s not enough, he’ll go base jumping from as high as he can get even using Revali’s Gale to get higher and free fall. Wild is pretty good at catching himself with his paraglider at the last moment and he likes to see all of Hyrule when as he reaches the ground again.

It reminds him that he’s done a lot of good, that he’s capable of doing more good and that life isn’t over just one ended.

Four

Unsurprisingly, sometimes Four gets too lost in his own for his own good.

He’s got a lot to think about and very little way to get it out.

Four would actually throw himself into his work to try and distract himself from the memories, the anxiety, and the guilt of not being enough time and time again even if he saved the day in the end.

This doesn’t help.

He gets so lost into it, in his attempt to stop thinking all together that he completely goes into autopilot and over works himself. Not in the sense that he pulls a muscle and has to take it easy  or end up sore and tired and regrets it. No, no. What I mean is that he’ll keep working for days on end.

No sleep.

No food.

Little water.

No fresh air.

It ends up being a hard habit for him to break. Especially since he finds himself continuously trying to fall into a blank mindset even while he actually works to get commissions done.

So what Four has to do is find something else to do. Four more or less always has to have his hands moving, so it’s hard for him to put something down and not working on it.

He likes jigsaw puzzles, he likes to read, but he also likes to make stuff.

So in the end, when Four feel a little overwhelmed and feels himself slip into a self deprivational state, he’ll stop and goes inside his house to do a smaller project.

So he bakes, he knits, he does his puzzels. It’s enough for him to feel productive still but quick enough for him to stay present and make sure he’s still taking care of himself until the restlessness passes.

Wind

Wind doesn’t really have bad habits. He’s still young and processing his adventures. 

I’m sure there’s alcohol on the pirate ship because pirates. But I don’t think he’d like it as much as some people want to write him.

Like, sure, a cup or two ain’t bad but I just can’t see Wind having a drinking problem. At least not now as everything stands.

In a few years it’s might be something he would need to be on the look out for if he’s aware enough but he was quite grasped the full implications of his position and trauma yet.

Because he’s just a kid.

He won’t know how twisted what happened to him was until he gets older and can he the age outside of his own mindset.

Wind has nightmares though and they’re ties when he gets memories that he doesn’t want to deal with at the moment- or ever again.

In the moment he thinks of his home, his grandma and his sister instead.

He thinks of his friends, both old and new.

The chain help with distracting him and he’s not above using them for the distraction when he feels that he needs one.

Wind also stretches a lot. 

When he was with Warrior, he got into some of the drills they were teaching the soldiers and for some of the nimble ones, they had to start with stretches and he likes it.

So when it gets particularly bad, he throws himself through the motions and holds the poses for a bit longer than necessary.

So yoga. He does yoga.

And it centers him, it clears his head and he feels better after.

Legend

Legend screams.

Legend cries.

Legend will go on a rampage and destroy a whole forest if he’s having a particularly hard day.

Sometimes he’ll go find something big and scary just to fight it. 

Blacksmithing is more a hobby for him at this point because it’s not something he can actually see himself doing in the future. It’s just to pass the time and help the day’s go by a little faster.

Legend likes to draw and when he’s tired after throwing whatever tantrum has taken over him, he’d go to a quiet spot and draw whatever he sees.

Sometimes, when he’s paying more attention to himself and he can feel himself getting frustrated and anxious, he takes a few days off.

He leaves his house and his items and goes up a mountain to think with some food, a notebook and some pencils.

He takes up map making.

Legend doesn’t think he’s any good at it, but with al the places he’s been, he tries to make a map for them by memory incase anyone he knows or will meet decides to visit.

His most carefully crafted map is of Koholint for... reasons.

It’s takes him an age and a half and he’s still not done with it, trying to get as much of it onto the paper as he can remember before he grows old and loses them entirely within his memory.

It’s a calming project he finds. He doesn’t feel sad when he does this for Marin for the people and their memory. It keeps them alive in his heart and sometimes he draws something on the map that doesn’t quite fit into his memory about the island but something tells him to keep it because it was there. Because he was only a visitor to their home.

The locals would know.

He feels good keeping them alive in some way.

It’s what she they would have wanted. 

It’s what she they deserve.

She They always wanted to travel and it’s better to have a map to do so.

He takes up map making.

Hyrule

I don’t think Hyrule’s... Hyrule has a lot of these methods to go around. He wouldn’t have been exposed to drugs or alcohol simply because there’s too little people for him to interact with.

And if he was, I don’t think he’s use them as a coping mechanism simply because they would be too difficult obtain and gather to be sufficient.

I think that Hyrule would actually hang out with a Great Fairies by her pool when times got particularly rough.

There’s something about the place that resonates with him and feels calming, safe and relaxing to him.

As a bonus he’s always welcomed so he can pop in and stay for days at a time if he ever needed to.

He does not stay there for days.

But he appreciates the offer.

Hyrule doesn’t stay for more than few hours at a time because he doesn’t want to attract any monsters to his safe spots but even if the fairies don’t use any magic on him, he’s always rejuvenated afterwards and he feel like he can take on anything.

And given the world he comes from- it’s needed.

[thekingreturn]

League Roadtrip Headcanons

Characters: Shigaraki, Spinner, Twice, Mr Compress, Big Sis Magne, Dabi

Tomura Shigaraki

Tomura Shigaraki makes your departure late waiting until he’s sure his devices are properly charged. Nevermind if you’ve got a remote charger, or that its only going to be a few hours, he’s not risking being screenless and stuck looking at the scenery (heaven forbid). You’ve (affectionately, probably) described his car ride habits as nesting. He swaddles his lower half in blankets, reclines the seat as far back as he can get away with, shoves a pillow behind his head, and settles in for a few hours with his headphones and whatever game he’s reserved for this thing. Just set whatever snacks you get him on his chest and he’ll graze on them at his leisure.

In general he prefers to be pretty quiet, long car rides actually aren’t great for him mentally. He doesn’t like the idea of being forced to be in close proximity to a person with no feasible exit. Not that he resents spending time with you, just that he gets grouchy and withdrawn on principle if he thinks he has no choice. Every two hours or so, though, he’ll turn off the game, straighten his seat (likely sending a shitload of crumbs into your car carpet) and just sort of. Butt his head against your shoulder until you start talking to him or at least pet his head. He’ll let himself enjoy it for a few minutes before relapsing back into his pseudo den

He can’t drive and thus you will be running this show for the entirety of it. Afterwards, though, you notice him..hovering, more than usual, just sort of urging you to lie down and bringing you food with the same sort of furtive expectance as a cat bringing you dead mice. You think this is his way of thanking you, but don’t confront him on it. Each time is a little easier with him. 

Spinner

Shuichi Iguchi (Spinner) may be one of the few members of the League who knows what he’s doing behind the wheel, but between you and him he actually doesn’t like doing it very much. He gets jumpy on the road and is prone to getting snappish with the other drivers. Still, he wants to do his part to pitch in, so tends to take the beginning and end of the drive. He also casually takes over snack detail and is the one to get out of the car and fill it with gas, as well as unload and reload the car. And navigation to boot. He’s a giver. Don’t tell anyone.

The level of conversational adeptness really depends on how long you’ve been seeing each other. Early stages comes up abruptly against his inability to small talk, you swear at some point he furtively checks his phone for icebreakers he found on the internet. Later stages bring ease with them, though, and with them Spinner’s favorite Olympic sport, complaining. The man pretends to hate gossip but if you hit the right buttons he’s more than happy to give you heavily editorialized anecdotes about the League and his various observations therein. Join in with some of your own, he’s a surprisingly good audience. The conversations will turn political at some point (and if you’re dating him, chances are good that’s somewhere you’re happy to follow) but if needed he can be convinced to leave work at work.

Spinner rarely initiates, even later on, but he’s kind of a sucker for tropey couple shit. Hold his hand while driving and he’ll get real quiet, even if it’s just for a second or two. Wrap your arms around him in the gas station while he pays, remind him that you’re proud to be seen with him. Kiss his cheek for getting your bags, make him feel valued. He’ll be following you around like a lovesick puppy.

Twice

Jin Bubaigawara (Twice) prefers to be the one driving, even going over his limits while insisting he’s fine. He can be convinced to take a break once you start to notice he’s barely holding his eyes open, but it will in fact, take some convincing not to get him to just slam back a questionable amount of five hour energies. He finds it relaxing, one of the few times he can just sort of sink into a process. Keep an eye on his turns, occasionally he’ll take a couple he didn’t mean to, but its a good way to feel a little more in control of himself and the situation.

He’s a good guy to have around a car, capable of changing a tire or getting the engine back up and running before you finish looking up tow services. He won’t necessarily ask for a reward but depending on how late in the relationship you are he’s definitely going to be giving you hopeful glances until he gets the affection he craves so badly.

The man basically invented rubbing your partner’s thigh while driving, he likes keeping a hand on you whenever he can, likes feeling you next to him. It’s such a simple thing but something about having you in his car really does make him feel trusted. He doesn’t really get a whole lot of areas where he feels competent. When you fall asleep a little before arriving home, and he gets to carry you inside, feeling how completely you let yourself depend on him? There’s nothing else quite like it.

Mr. Compress

Atsuhiro Sako (Mr. Compress) is...an ok driver. He thinks he’s better than he is, you can tell from the way he handles the wheel, the little flick of his hand as he hits his turn signal and the way he’ll narrate whatever he’s doing. And in practice, he is pretty good! Until other drivers with less of a showmanship factor hit the road. Which is always. All it takes is one guy pulling ahead of him too fast and he gets flustered enough to throw him off his game.

The two of you switch off driving at pretty even intervals. Even with navigation apps (which he does use, he’s not a Luddite) he still prefers to have a paper map on hand to cross reference it. He can be a little annoying with it but he more than makes up for it with the way he’ll touch your shoulder to indicate an offramp. “Why don’t we turn here, angel, its scenic.”

He’s much more about the journey than the destination, happy to divert the trip into an exploration of local curiosities if the two of you have time. He likes the anonymity of these small drive through towns where the two of you could be anyone, anything to the locals. He’ll squeeze your hand and murmur legends or history pieces if he knows any about the place (he makes about half of them up, but they’re nice stories anyways).

These things always take longer than it should, but he makes it all feel like but a moment.

Big Sis Mag

Mag Hikishi (Magne) is another one who prefers to drive than be driven, and to be frank, you may as well let her. If stuck in the passenger seat she has a bad case of invisible brake and tends to grip the ceiling a little too pointedly. She has absolute faith in your abilities, and also if she’s going to be in a car crash she at least wants it to be her own fault. Its alright, darling, just sit in the passenger seat and look pretty for her, won’t you?

Master of the shortcut that takes you an hour off course, its best if you leave without an expected arrival time. She likes starting trips bright and early, likes seeing the roads clear of other cars and getting to enjoy those quiet morning hours with you. Not that things are often quiet with Mag. She has this ability to get you talking about almost anything for hours, with plenty of her own contributions to boot. She’s lived a storied life, and she wants to hear your own.

Mag has strong opinions on gas station snacks (Takis, string cheese if they have any, and water being a go to) and will absolutely hover a little to make sure you’re well hydrated for long hours in the hot car. She has an eclectic collection of CDs if you don’t feel like talking, and if you need silence, well...that’s harder, but she’ll do it for you, only occasionally breaking it with a peck on the cheek. She enjoys these moments with just the two of you, able to just bounce off of each other and get absolutely mushy without her beloved coworkers around to tease. For a moment, at least, things all feel like they might be ok.

Dabi

Dabi, like Shigaraki, never got his license and isn’t really interested in trying for it. He doesn’t really like any form of transportation and tends to walk most places when he gets the option, given he has a tendency to get motion sick and it’s really hard to keep up your persona of unflappable bad boy while turning a few shades of green. Still, sometimes its unavoidable, so he flings himself in the backseat, props open a window, and prays he’ll knock out soon.

Dabi’s not the easiest partner in the world to communicate with under the best of circumstances, but now especially when every jolt makes him regret being born (moreso than usual) and the only thing coming out of his mouth when he opens it is complaints about how that brat of a leader is doing this to him on purpose, has to be. This is one of the rare instances where fussing over him actually gets some desirable results. Tuck a blanket around him, get him set up with some water, and check in on him every time you stop. Eventually a hand shoots out from between the front seats and grabs at the air until you take the hint and lock your fingers through his. Its not much, but from Dabi? Its everything.

Ultimately he does his best to sleep through these incidents and has you under a firm promise to never describe them to the others, ever. He’ll incentivize it if he has to. You know he’s good for it.