#too lazy to draw myself today so here it is

[ladyelainehilfur]

For anyone wondering what I look like:

Link for picrews I used here

[yelloworangesoda]

im in a bad mood.

[sugurouge]

— yes, my lady : sebastian michaelis x f!reader

content warnings! reader is a descendant of the phantomhive family, power imbalance (master/servant) but also (human/demon), somewhat monsterfucking if you squint (i wanted to make use of his ‘true form’ a little), smut, size difference, manhandling, praise, pet names (my lady, darling, dear), orgasm control, sacrilege, a tiny bit of blood, topics of loneliness

summary: after another tiresome day out in the world, you are greeted with your recent mistake—sebastian. a hand-me-down from your ancestors that you summoned by chance and who now apparently has a contract with you. yet this modern world, working women, independence, and your awfully bratty attitude are challenges that are entirely new to him. however, he did swear to serve you. so, allow him to take care of his tired "mistress"

wordcount: 5k | my kinktober masterlist

It’s not every day that your job becomes stressful enough to fully tire you out. But today, today was even more draining than you had anticipated. Deep red eyes watch your tired form from across the hallway, raking over your figure as the owner remains quiet. Sebastian hasn't quite understood the fulfillment behind humans working themselves to the bone, nor the desire for young women to eagerly venture out to conquer “corporate,” as you once called it.

Yet, understanding or not, he is sworn to serve you and look after you. You are in his care until the contract is completed.

For this, he steps forward, his touch as sultry and gentle as his voice that welcomes you home. “My Lady,” the demon begins, as strength returns to your figure upon the stabilising hold of his hands on the small of your back while you remove your heels. You meet his smile with a glare from your pretty eyes, still wary of your newly added decor.

“I can handle myself just fine, Sebastian.” Yes, you’re a feisty one. Sebastian has been well aware of that fact since the moment you met. You dislike men staring at you in the street, loathe the forced small talk with them at work, or having to humour one of them when all you want is to be in the safety and comfort of your home. The once safe haven you now share with some sort of butler, or so he proclaimed. Never would you have expected such an outcome from your family’s antiques.

But here you are, the independent woman from before, now with a handsome devil at your beck and call. “You appear particularly exhausted tonight. Why not let me take care of you and help you to a restful night?” Sebastian proposes with gentle calmness to your vervour as his hands return to rest behind his back.

He irritates you. His act of concern for you when all he truly cares for is your soul. The motive is clear, yet he play-pretends to be something you cannot wrap your head around. “And what could you do for me?” you challenge in return, crossing your arms in front of your chest as the tip of your nose lifts a little higher to meet Sebastian’s gaze. “Anything you wish,” replies the butler, without a hint of malice in his words. “I would propose running a hot bath, brewing a warm cup of tea, and—” he pauses, clearly having caught himself with an idea you would despise.

The proposal sounds pleasing, almost exactly what you would do if you weren’t feeling too lazy to run a bath for yourself. But he doesn't need to know that. Your expression remains unfaltering, almost challenging. “And what? Speak, Sebastian.” The quirk of your brow ticks Sebastian off in just the right way, your confidence and demand a challenge he secretly enjoys.

The distance between your bodies grows smaller, and a gloved hand tips your chin up as red hues draw near. “A massage for your exhausted figure, my Lady.” He drawls the title, a pinch of condescension hidden in his words. You can’t resist the idea of standing on your toes, leaning further into his space to see him shrink away as your lips almost brush Sebastian’s while you speak: “Carry me, Sebastian.”

Yet, he does not shy away. He feels your pulse quicken, hears your heart drumming a beat of bravery, while your sweet lips could offer a relief he hasn’t felt in millennia. A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth upon your demand and, without hesitation, you find yourself in his embrace. Knees and shoulders pressed firmly against his body, Sebastian carries you to your bedroom.

He knows tonight won’t be easy on him. Sebastian is well aware of the mischief you try to conceal, to seem more mature than you actually are. But tonight you appear different; tonight, you bring new challenges to your rendezvous once your head finds its rest on his shoulder. The tease of your breath against his neck, your smaller fingers playing with his necktie as you wet your lips. Nothing good comes from those pretty lips, Sebastian notes.

“Sebastian?” How can you suddenly say his name so softly? He looks down to you, the crimson tinge to his eyes making him appear like a starved hunter under the faint lights of the streetlamps and mood lights in your apartment. “The water is already set and at the perfect temperature for the female body.” Of course, he had heard your footsteps from afar and decided that tonight would be perfect for a bath. He is an expert at planning, at being one step ahead of everyone else. That is, until you continue speaking. A simple command, short and to the point, too alluring: “Undress me.”

You need to try harder if you wish to get a rise from him. For now, you find yourself seated on your bathroom counter with a newly found frown adorning your face. It doesn’t suit you, but it entertains Sebastian. “Your wish is my command,” he speaks an octave lower, honey almost dripping from his words before skilled fingers smooth out the fabric of your blouse. Sebastian’s gaze does not meet yours while he unbuttons it; he stays focused on the task without lusting over your exposed skin.

Suddenly, you wish he would want to devour you. The gloved touch that teases your upper body is not enough, yet so close to the fulfilling feeling of desire that you miss.

The clothing item is pushed off your shoulders before his touch ghosts along your waist. “May I continue?” The question is accompanied by one hand held out to you, palm facing up for you to grasp and rise to your feet. In one swift move, you find yourself staring at your reflection in the mirror as Sebastian spins you around to undo the intricate buttons of your skirt you had struggled with this morning—why must designers place them in such difficult spots?

To nobody’s surprise, they are undone as quickly as your blouse, before your silk dress follows suit and pools around your ankles, leaving you in nothing but a tantalising set of underwear—dark red, almost a perfect match to Sebastian’s eyes. You eyes meet through the mirror and you refuse to shy away. No, like the little vixen that you are, you lean forward just enough to expose yourself further to your demon as you pretend to busy yourself by wiping off your lipstick.

It feels humbling to witness his gaze remain unfaltering; Sebastian continues to look into your eyes rather than the places you want his greed to be. “I will prepare your tea now,” he states as business continues as usual before leaving you alone.

A sigh is all you allow yourself as your shoulders slump. You really tried to seduce him. At the thought, you find a smile tugging at your mouth, the lust to be desired something that has been missing for a while now in your life. You know work, you know how to overwork yourself, and you have no time for flings or meaningless encounters. That was when he entered the picture.

Upon Sebastian’s return, he finds you seated in the bathtub; You’ve made sure to keep your hair out of the water and expose your neck, for hungry eyes to appreciate the shein layer of damp on your skin. The plate beneath the teacup meets the ceramic of your bathtub as your widened—nearly pleading—eyes shoot up to challenge his. If only you had acted a second quicker, you would have caught him staring at your cleavage, barely covered by the water and foam.

“Is there anything else you may need?” Sebastian inquires. He hates to admit it, but tonight seems like a greater challenge than he anticipated. How the simple word “You” could weaken a demon of his calibre is something for future Sebastian to concern himself with. Present Sebastian relishes the desire tugging at his stomach, the way you stare at him so submissively. Until you continue speaking: “Massage me, my butler.”

You turn your back to him as he takes his place behind you on the edge of the bathtub. Would you still be so smug if he grabbed your cheeks between his fingertips? If he forced you to look deep into his eyes while coaxing the cutest sounds past your lips? How can you act this way when at night you hump your pillow and beg for more, something better? Yet in the daylight, you behave like a spoiled princess, and he only adds to that imaginary status of yours. How badly he would love to ruin it. One or two more slip-ups, and he might find a loophole in your contract and commands.

To your dismay, gloved hands meet the skin of your neck. “Take them off, Sebastian. Touch me fully.” Your words bounce off the bathroom tiles, and his reply of “Yes, my lady,” echoes back. Shivers elicit along your neck as his skin touches yours, and the strength behind Sebastian’s touch massages the knots and the sorrow from your shoulders.

The moment is sweet enough to let your eyes fall closed, your head resting against Sebastian’s thigh as you sigh a gentle moan of relief. The sound snaps Sebastian’s attention to your face. With your eyes closed, he allows himself a moment to admire your features. Even a demon can admit that some humans are indeed beautiful. Sometimes, that beauty doesn’t surpass their soul, but in your case, there is something so unique about you that captivates Sebastian’s attention and lust.

You catch him staring as your eyes flutter open, the position you find yourself in so vulnerable, with him leaning above you. “Naughty butler…” you tease, and Sebastian wants to wipe that cheeky smirk right off your face. “If you have so much time to stare at me, you might as well wash my body for me.” The disrespectful teasing, as if he were nothing more than a pet, reminds Sebastian of someone else, someone he couldn’t wait to devour many years ago. But what else could he do but make himself useful for now?

In a swift move, Sebastian shrugs off his jacket and pushes up the sleeves of his buttoned shirt before kneeling beside your bathtub. He appears disinterested again, putting on a perfect mask of nonchalance as he runs the washcloth along your shoulders and arms, warming your figure and letting rose-scented water wash the sorrows away.

Until you’ve had enough of this act. Until you grow overly confident as you lean into his proximity: Your fingers lace around Sebastian’s wrist like a personal handcuff, your eyes locking onto his. “Be more thorough, Sebastian. Wash away the filth.” You go as far as to help him run the cloth over your chest. The drag of his nails against your sensitive skin sends shivers down your spine, and Sebastian watches you attentively, to witness your pupils dilate, the pink tip of your tongue darting out to wet your lips as your noses almost touch. He has never obeyed such a troublesome person before.

You start to bring out the worst in him—something that wants to teach you a lesson, something to remind you how different the roles could be if it weren't for this contract. The washcloth is pushed over your breasts and dips beneath the surface of the water to run along your stomach before being abandoned entirely as Sebastian’s fingers dip into the supple flesh of your thighs. Blunt nails drag along your inner thighs, and he loves to watch the shift in your demeanour; how you grow shy beneath his touch, your stare faltering as he draws dangerously close to your sacred area.

There is no bite to your bark as you cry out his name, your need for him too evident while you try to maintain a pretence. "S-Sebastian!" Finally, you act as your thighs press shut around his hand, panic ever so evident in your pretty eyes he can't stop the devilish smirk from spreading across his features. "My dear, don’t tell me you expect to play with fire and come out unharmed…"

The next moment, your back meets the cold stone as Sebastian races forward, hands placed left and right from your figure on the edge of the bathtub. The impact forces a puff of air to escape your lips as your eyes snap up to meet your butler’s dark pair, searching for a trace of humanity in those pools of crimson. "Behave…" you attempt to regain control, which is met with a chuckle. "I only follow your commands," he challenges as the cloth returns to clean your body. "You wanted me to be thorough, let me be thorough."

However, the lips that crash against the racing pulse in your neck have nothing to do with the command of cleaning your body. Sebastian acts upon his own selfish accord, upon the lust you’ve ignited by teetering too close to the dangerous territories of demonic desires.

And he makes you feel too good as he ravages you, suckling and nipping at your skin until you can't help but moan, your head falling back to offer him more space. You can't even think of a fitting command, the sweet words for him to "Don’t stop, please," a much more natural reaction as his palms cup your breasts, pinching and pulling at your nipples until you whimper ever so prettily.

"Who would have thought you could turn into such a sweet darling?" Sebastian teases with whispered words against the shell of your ear, the hum that follows so deep and low it has your stomach fluttering. Your fingers lace between his dark strands, effectively holding him in place as you return to being face-to-face with Sebastian. Shamelessly, you allow yourself to rake your eyes over his sharp features. You've never wanted anything more than him. But the thought evaporates upon the sharp sensation of nails against your waistline and hips, upon the pair of fingers pushing between your folds before rubbing against your clit.

Oh? How willingly you part your legs now, Sebastian muses.

"Is this thorough enough, my lady?" he mocks as his fingertips press against the opening of your pussy, your eager hole giving way slightly as he pushes past. He knows what he’s doing to you. He sees it in the crease of your brow, feels it as your hips buck against his touch. "More, Sebastian, I need more tonight." Like the greedy thing you are, you take it upon yourself to play with your breasts, yet the silent plea in your eyes tells your butler all you want is for him to take care of you.

“Oh dear,” he whispers gently, but smiles victoriously as your moans tumble from your trembling lips when two of his fingers push inside you. "Do you give yourself to me? Allow me full reign, hm?"

The idea sounds great, perfect, until you manage to flutter your heavy eyes open and see the devious apparition in front of you. Sebastian’s eyes are more slanted, set ablaze, deep pink hues now replacing his usual red, with lust overflowing past his thick lashes as pointed teeth hide behind his full lips. Giving yourself to a demon doesn’t seem like the best idea, but the fingers stimulating your gummy spot have you nodding regardless. How lucky you are that you need to use words under these circumstances.

“Darling, tell me,” Sebastian urges as his thrusts become harsher, uncaring for the water or your comfort as your tits bounce and your walls clamp so promisingly. “N-no, no, Sebastian! Just, ah—” you falter as you try your best to stay present, to keep control over this demon while he fingerfucks you. “Think, speak, quickly, little Lady,” he further pressures you. What he wouldn’t give to do with your body whatever he wants. “Just-, just tonight! Sebastian—” the way you moan his name makes you a sinner itself, it should send you to all seven hells as the echoes ring inside his mind. “Look after me, tonight,” you finally manage to cry out as your walls pull in desperate need. “Make me feel good,” your final demand.

But instead of sweet release, you feel the disappointing emptiness as he retracts his fingers, leaving you a heaving mess in your bathtub—only now do you notice how cold the water has turned. “You can ask more nicely than that, my dear.” There is little consideration to be spared for the length of your bath once a strong arm wraps around your waist. Sebastian wastes no time in having you seated on his lap, your wet form drenching his clothing as he spreads your legs over his thighs and presses you flush against his chest. “I will look after you until the day you die,” he whispers into your ear, and maybe if the words weren’t so true and less intimidating, you could consider them romantic.

You notice that Sebastian’s form has returned to fully human, with almost tender eyes meeting yours this time around, turning your desire mellow and seasoned with sweetness. “Kiss me, please.”

He follows suit as your lips crash together a moment later, his palms stabilising your back in his hold. “More…” you breathe. Your fingers reach out to guide one of his hands on your back, between the valley of your tits, down your stomach, until you ultimately buck your hips against his, seeking further friction in desperate need. He tightens his hold on your body, tugging gently at your frame as he leans forward to suck on your wet skin, leaving marks in his wake. A small grin tugs at his lips as a soft whimper escapes you. “What’s wrong?” The whispered question makes goosebumps spread over your skin as the chill of his breath battles with the warmth of your bathroom.

“Want to be ruined by you.” The words that fall past your lips seal your fate. “Please, make me feel good, Sebastian.” You sound so desperate, only a fool would resist. “Taint me,” you shamelessly sigh against his ear, “Let me feel you.”

“Taint you…” he murmurs, halting his movements momentarily to witness you grow impatient before one of his arms holds a firm grip around your waist, restricting your movements as you’re now fully pressed against his chest. “How much more does my little Lady want to be tainted?” His free hand ghosts along your puffy lips, your slick making the drag too easy, too appealing to not draw circles into your clit, only pulling back any time he feels you squirm on his lap. Your little cries are music to Sebastian’s ears. It’s so good, too good, the way his fingers move, almost as if he already knows all your weak spots. “Do you wish to experience bliss only I could give you, and ruin yourself for all eternity?” His questions urge you to wrap your arms around him, to hide your face in the gentle embrace of a monster, as though you’re trying to hide from judgement itself upon your immoral fantasies. “I wish for that, Sebastian.”

No further words are needed, not when your lips convey more as they meet Sebastian's. A kiss so fierce, he may steal the air from your lungs and drag you to hell himself. Teeth pull at your bottom lip unapologetically, his tongue meeting with your own, entwining with another until you taste him. Meanwhile, the familiar stretch of his fingers, accompanied by the filthy squelching of your arousal, threatens to overload your senses. The teasing returns as your lips part to allow Sebastian a front row seat to your desperate play, as his thumb presses into your clit. You really yearn for this orgasm, don’t you? Of course, you do, with how tightly you clench around his digits, pulsing as though you’re trying to keep him inside—as if he couldn’t offer you a much better alternative.

“Let go, my dear, you look so beautiful right now, I want to see you come undone for me.” Sebastian encourages, as his fingers expertly curl against your walls, each time pushing past the limits of what you’re able to take. So you let go, finally, allowing your eyes to shut as your fingers fist the fabric of his dress shirt. He’s never received praise in a prayer-like form, the sighing thank-yous tumbling free between your moans, so unlike the feisty thing you pretend to be. You are adorable. “Very good, my darling, just like that.” Sebastian whispers, as the movements slow down until his fingers still inside you, until the heaving of your chest and the trembling of your thighs calms, and you fall into his embrace.

But much to Sebastian's surprise, and despite his predictions about your exhaustion, you return his previous affections. Your lips kiss along his neck as you undo his necktie, fingertips already so eager to free him from the confines of his clothes, it makes Sebastian wonder who the real glutton between you two is. “My Lady,” he innocently halts your advances as he entwines his fingers with your own, kissing each tip while holding eye contact. “Shouldn’t we proceed to your chambers? I don’t wish to bring needless discomfort upon you—you need your strength to handle me.” At that, you feel his tongue drag along your pointer finger before a final kiss is placed on its tip, while a devious smile returns to Sebastian’s lips. If only you wouldn’t look so adorable each time he teases you. But you are already too far gone to keep up pretences, when you can instead allow someone else to finally be your resolve.

So it's only natural for you to command Sebastian once more. “Bring me to my bed,” you mumble while your arms already lace around his neck. He follows.

Yet it catches you by surprise once you’re simply dropped into your bouncy mattress and sea of pillows. However, in the next moment, you find yourself caged underneath Sebastian. Your hands roam free to undo his dress shirt and shrug it off his figure, allowing your nails to drag over his pearly skin until you reach his pants and finally feel what lies hidden behind the dark fabrics.

You seem in control, until firm hands spread your thighs and Sebastian leans in, to nibble along your inner legs, shining in the moonlight as he dives between your thighs to lap at your cunt, his tongue pushing past the tight ring of your entrance before dragging all over your hot and puffy pussy. He then licks and kisses his way up your stomach, sternum, and nipples, while the surprising satisfaction of his cock—hot, hard, and leaking with pre-cum—coats itself with your juices. He grinds against you until you writhe for more, until his hands find rest on the back of your knees so he can press your legs up against your sides, fully opening you to thrust into you without struggle, without restraint, as lust overcomes him.

You shake your head at the stretch of his girth welcoming your pussy, sweet pleas mixed with whiny complaints escaping your lips without much thought. “‘S too much, Sebastian… can’t…” you admit. The chuckle that follows is devious, before a soft sigh in satisfaction follows as tender lips place an adoring kiss to your cheek. “You will,” Sebastian whispers, followed by the command “Now just surrender to me.” His lips seek out your own once more as he picks up a relentless pace.

Your nails dig into his back, leaving red streaks that run deep. You can’t look at anything but him—his strong body on top of yours, the visible strain to his muscles while he ruts into you—until you find yourself once more captivated by his eyes. He almost looks at you lovingly, no hungrily. But Sebastian doesn't just want to consume your soul; no, his desires reach beyond basic greed. He wants to own you, to keep you to himself, to reign over you until your best years are over. You can see it clearly while swimming in crimson. But with the delicious drag of his cock inside your walls, you might just let him. Who would have expected you to be tamed this well by getting fucked?

“Please, please, please,” you exhale as your head lolls from side to side, writhing beneath your very own demon. Oh? You’re quick to beg. Quick to turn desperate, so eager to have more of something that should never have been yours. “Sebastian, Sebastian,” you repeat like a mantra as his hands hold your fragile body, digging into your hips to force you into a perfect arch for Sebastian to ravage your skin. He litters kisses over your chest, laps at your nipples, and drags your hips back down to snap against his while he is guided by gluttony.

“Give yourself to me,” you demand with no trace of shame in your bones, finally giving him a task worthy of your beautiful soul. “Stay with me, be mine…”

You almost feel dizzy with how easily Sebastian hoists you up until you’re on all fours, ass perfectly exposed for him to fully sheath his cock inside you, effectively pushing your upper body into your sea of pillows. But in stark contrast to his rather harsh handling of your body, his lips return to press soft kisses along your back. “I am yours if you are mine, my darling.” The words flow like honey before your blood coats Sebastian’s tongue as he breaks the skin, engraving himself on your skin.

Your fingers dig into the cushions, searching for support as you struggle. But the strong arm lacing around your body is all the comfort you will need from now on; his cold touch will soon set you ablaze.

Sebastian is deep inside you, the head of his cock finding your sweet spot almost naturally as he perfectly curves against your velvet walls, hips snapping against your ass with unforeseen fervour. His hands dig into your hips, surely bruising your hip bones for the coming days, but you’ve never felt this good before. Never so full, never as cared for as by the monster that is in love with your soul. You moan his name in delight, making Sebastian proud once you eagerly bounce back into his thrusts.

The husky sounds of pleasure grow clearer as his movements slow down. You feel yourself being further pushed against the mattress, to spread your legs wider and arch deeper, for his penetration to slowly steal your sanity. Who would have expected the pressure of his palm against your stomach would make you clamp around him this much? Moaning, whimpering, pleading as you beg for mercy, trying to tell him it’s too… “Too good, Sebastian, I’m—”

His movements are slow but precise, accentuating the way you desperately clamp around him in an attempt to hold him inside you for eternity. “Yes, fall apart. Let go for me,” Sebastian’s eyes roam over your smaller body beneath him—a sweaty, shaking mess. He will take care of that right after you are done. For now, instead of worrying, his hands grab at your ass almost aggressively, spreading your lower lips even further as he ruts into you.

The high-pitched squeal that escapes your throat when he picks up his pace again serves as a perfect display of your misery. Tears prick at the sides of your eyes as your hips are pushed back to meet Sebastian’s relentless thrusts. “Make me proud, little Lady...” his final demand, with sneaky fingers returning to play with your clit as he hoists you off the bed, holding you tightly against his chest.

You’re fully seated on his cock, entirely engulfed by his embrace and consumed by the demon, just as you bask in the sweet release coursing through your veins. Sebastian allows himself to be lost in your pretty cries and the way your pussy practically drips from both of your orgasms. True to his nature, he watches you like a devil on your shoulder; dark red eyes witnessing your fucked-out expression while the cutest smile illuminates your features.

His lips caress your neck as he whispers, “Do you feel better now?” You hum and let your fingers card through his hair, a tired “I do. Thank you, Sebastian” exchanged from your mouth to his ear.

Swiftly, Sebastian moves to carry you back to your spacious bathtub and lets it refill with warmth. “How about my Lady actually relaxes this time around?”

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[aliceintheworld]

PURE ATTRACTION | JJK | TATTOO ARTIST

Pairing: TattooArtistJungkook X NaiveReader

Summary: "I shouldn't be watching a man undressing, especially not from the house next door."

Warning: more religion 😬 depression, Jimin, Taehyung, and Yoongi appear. Jungkook in a towel 💦👅 finally a kiss (things from here happen quickly.) ATTENTION, THIS STORY IS NOT SLOWBURN.

A/N: Guys, I took a while this time for reasons of: laziness and discouragement. I wanted more people to read what I write, but I'm introverted even on the Internet, which leaves me with few alternatives to show my writing to the world. Thinking about it, I'm in trouble. Other than that, only a few days have passed, so everything is fine. Back to the story, everything starts to pick up pace. Just to repeat, the fanfic is not slowburn, so there will be smut in the next chapter. Stay tuned.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 3

I spend the whole week riding an emotional rollercoaster. I find myself visiting my neighbor, Mrs. Jeon, more frequently than usual, and with each visit, our friendship blossoms deeper. She shares stories of her youth, of wild adventures and carefree days when she was my age. Her openness encourages me to share my own experiences–or rather, my lack of them. I recount my first disastrous kiss, confess that I've never been in love, and reveal how my once unshakeable faith in the church has wavered since my father's passing. I feel a weight lift off my shoulders; here, I am free to be imperfect, to be vulnerable, without fear of judgment.

Yet, there's one thing I keep to myself: the incident with her son, Jungkook, and the profound effect he has on me. Throughout all my visits, I never see him again. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I casually ask Mrs. Jeon where he is. She tells me that he moved and rented an apartment to avoid being a burden. He only spent the first night at home after his trip, and I remember that night well–from my window, of course–but I don't mention it. Disappointment settles in me like a stone; I long to see him again, but I focus on his mother instead. Having her to confide in is a relief, a breath of fresh air in my otherwise stifling life.

I patiently wait for her to open up about her own struggles, her depression, but she never does. I worry that I might know something I shouldn't, that perhaps she's not comfortable sharing with me. But I promise myself I'll keep her secret safe, no matter what. Today is Sunday, and I won't visit Mrs. Jeon since I'll see her at church. I'm excited–despite my mother making unnecessary comments and disturbing my peace of mind, I'll have someone to rely on.

I smooth down my dark brown dress, fixing my messy hair. I dab a bit of lipstick on my fingertips and press it onto my lips, careful not to overdo it. The truth is, I enjoy makeup, but I've never learned how to apply it properly. I feel embarrassed drawing attention to myself with bolder colors; after all, people are used to my lack of vanity. I sigh, steeling myself as I head downstairs to meet my mother.

She hasn't stopped talking about Jungkook. Unlike me, who had a good first impression, she despises him. She criticizes everything: his eyebrow piercing, his bold style, his tattoos, even the way he carries himself. I can't help but wonder if she accepted the dinner invitation just to analyze him, searching for flaws that exist only in her mind. She's been friends with Misuk since moving to town, and I want to believe–perhaps naively–that my mother doesn't have ulterior motives.

We arrive at church early, the space quiet with only a few members milling about. My mother drifts away to chat with the older congregation, and I find a seat, taking a deep breath. I scan the room for Mrs. Jeon but I don't see her. Since it's still early, I'm not too worried. I take a moment to read the Bible, reflecting on positive thoughts when I feel a gentle touch on my shoulder. I turn, and there he is–Jungkook, smiling brightly. I frown, almost convinced he's a mirage. Am I daydreaming?

"Hi Y/N, are you okay?" he asks softly, his lips brushing almost against my ear. His intense gaze locks with mine, and I'm relieved to be sitting down; my legs feel weak in his presence.

"Everything's fine," I reply, my eyes dropping to my fingers. I want to engage him, ask about his week, inquire how he's been, but the words stick in my throat. It's as though I can't act normally around him. I take a deep breath, mustering the courage to comment, "I didn't know you attended church."

"I don't," he laughs, amusement dancing in his eyes. And rightly so; considering his clothes–a heavy leather jacket, shaved sides, and a wavy fringe–it's sexy but definitely not what you'd expect at church. "I haven't been since I was a kid."

"Really? Why?" I ask, genuinely curious, my gaze drawn to his eyebrow piercing, oddly captivating.

"I didn't feel welcome," he replies simply. There's no bitterness in his voice, and I understand all too well what he means. My mother, for example, was the first to judge him based on his appearance, and I can only imagine how difficult it is to feel at home in a place where you're not embraced.

"I understand," I say, unsure of what else to add. "So, you came here to give it another shot?"

"No way," he chuckles. "Actually, my mom mentioned you two planned to meet at church today."

"That's true," I confirm.

"Unfortunately, she can't make it today. She's not feeling well."

"Is she okay?" My concern surfaces immediately.

"She's fine, don't worry. Just a headache, and she took some medicine. She'll be better soon," he assures me, his hand lightly touching my shoulder. I can't help but notice how warm and gentle his touch is. I shake my head, trying to divert my thoughts from Jungkook's hands to anything else.

"I'm relieved to hear that," I smile, noticing the church is starting to fill up.

"I'm actually inviting some friends over to my apartment, and I wanted to know if you'd like to join us," he says, brushing his fingertips against his ear, a bit shy. I'm taken aback; I didn't expect this invitation. He wants me to come over with his friends?

"And why?" I ask, surprised. It's been a while since we last saw each other, and we haven't talked much even then.

"I like you. I want you to come so we can have fun."

"If this is some kind of payment, or something like that... you really don't need to." I reply, not believing it. I don't have friends, and the thought that he wants to be with me and the people he likes seems absurd to me.

"It's not that. I'm even a bit offended." He jokes, smiling. "I really want you to come, please."

"Jungkook... I don't know."

"I swear they're nice. Every time I'm in Busan, we hang out. They're trustworthy, I promise."

"I can imagine," I reply, still hesitant. I'd have to leave church, skip the service, and ask my mother for permission to go out with him, and of course, she wouldn't allow it. No way. It's not that I don't want to; I desperately want to spend time with him. That's been on my mind all week. "I don't think it's possible; my mom..."

"I know," he interjects, as if he anticipated my response. "But what if, just this once, you say you are going to my mom's? We could say I'm taking you there when in fact, you're coming to my apartment."

"Are you asking me to lie to my mother in a church?" I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it. He shrugs, grinning.

"God knows it's just once," he replies confidently, pouting slightly. "What do you say? Later, I can take you to my mom's whenever you want, or you can stay at my apartment since I have more than one room. You set the time and conditions."

"Jungkook..." I groan, covering my face with my hands. The thought of lying to my mother, especially to go to a guy's house, sends a wave of anxiety through me. If she finds out, I'll be in big trouble.

"Come on! It'll be fun. I promise," he pleads softly. I can't say no to him, at least not now. I nod, agreeing to the madness.

"Okay, but you're the one who's going to talk to my mom. And if I say I want to leave, you agree. No alcohol because I know you drive. Those are my conditions," I assert, trying to sound firm. He smiles and salutes me, like a soldier receiving orders, and I slowly get up, taking small steps toward my mother. I let Jungkook lead the way, my nerves creeping back as I prepare to tell a lie in this sacred place.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Eunji. Good afternoon, everyone," he greets my mom and the other church members. My mother looks utterly shocked, her eyes nearly popping out of her head as she takes in his appearance.

"Good afternoon, Jungkook," she replies, lacking enthusiasm, her gaze scanning him from head to toe. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to do a favor for my mom," he clarifies, and if I didn't know better, I'd almost believe him. "My mom asked Y/N to keep her company since my dad will be out of town for a few days. I came to pick her up."

"Really?" my mom looks at me, and I don't say anything, just nodding.

"It's true. My dad went to Daegu this weekend, and since my mom hasn't been feeling well, she asked Y/N to spend time with her. If you allow it, of course," he smiles calmly, and I brace myself waiting for my mother's response. I watch her weigh her options, glancing between Jungkook and me for what feels like an eternity before she sighs and nods.

"Alright, that's fine. Is your mom feeling okay?"

"Yes, she's getting better. Can we go now?" he asks, a hint of urgency in his voice.

"Yes, you may go," my mom sighs, placing a hand on her forehead. "It's a shame you're missing the service today, Y/N. Next week, you'll definitely come, okay?"

"Yes, mom, for sure," I agree weakly, clearing my throat and avoiding her gaze, still stunned that she let me go to Jungkook's house. Well, not his house, but is practically the same thing.

"Shall we go, Y/N? My mom is waiting," Jungkook says, raising an eyebrow. I nod, still silent, as we make our way toward the exit.

Some people stare, especially the older members, who seem shocked by Jungkook's appearance–too conservative, in my opinion. Somehow, the situation feels even funnier. Once we're sure no one can see us anymore, I burst into laughter, clutching my stomach. Jungkook chuckles too, exhaling as if he's just finished a tough exam and is finally free.

"Your mom is tough, huh?" he laughs. "I thought she was going to kill me with her eyes."

"Sorry," I say, still giggling a little. "She's like that with everyone."

"Even with you?"

"Even with me," I nod. "What do we do now?"

"Now, we go to my apartment. My friends have the key, so they're probably already there."

"Don't tell me they're all guys," I groan, suddenly anxious. I hadn't considered that he might not have any female friends, and I'd be the only girl at the apartment if that were the case.

"No, relax! I have female friends too. You'll like them," he assures me, walking toward a sleek black car parked across the street. I know nothing about cars, but I can tell this one is expensive. I feel out of place, acutely aware that Jungkook lives in a different world, one that's far removed from my own.

The tension in the car is palpable as we drive. The ride feels like it takes forever, the windows closed, and I'm intoxicated by his scent. I discreetly watch his large hands on the wheel, the way his long fingers tap rhythmically against the leather seat. I have to swallow hard to keep from drooling over him. I'm starving–not for food, but for him. All week, I've yearned to be near him, to touch him. I think I'm suffering from a Jungkook overdose, craving something I haven't even tasted yet.

I ponder whether he's aware of the effect he has on me, but I like to believe he hasn't noticed. It's easier that way. I breathe slowly, attempting to relax in my seat. It takes another ten minutes before Jungkook opens the gate to a condo with a small remote and drives in slowly. His car fits the place perfectly. Everything is stunning and upscale. I glance at my clothes and regret agreeing to come. Why did I say yes? I don't know his friends, and I don't know Jungkook that well, aside from the overwhelming attraction I feel toward him. What do I actually know about him? That he's a tattoo artist from Seoul? That he's rich and hasn't set foot in a church since childhood? I feel like I've walked into a situation that's spiraling out of control.

"Hey, Y/N, are you okay? You went quiet all of a sudden," he asks, concern etched on his face.

"I'm fine. Just feeling a bit strange," I admit.

"Why?"

"I don't know," I confess, omitting my paranoid thoughts. "I always feel like this in new places."

"I get that. I feel that way too," he tells me as we step into the parking elevator. I follow him, digesting this new revelation.

"You seem so confident and social," I comment, genuinely amazed. His big eyes meet mine as the elevator rises, floors passing by in a blur.

"I know, it seems that way. But in reality, I'm quite introverted. I have a small circle of friends and prefer it that way. I just fake it really well," he shares, and I find myself wanting to know more about the person behind the confident exterior.

"Really?" I ask, intrigued.

"Yeah," he nods, his expression earnest.

I try to respond, but the elevator stops on a floor, and Jungkook smiles at me, indicating that this is the right place. I feel one of his hands gently touch my waist, guiding me to a white door. I have to take a deep breath to keep from freaking out, my sweaty, trembling hands hidden in my pocket. I hear different music from the other side of the door before the place fully opens up to us.

"Hey, he's here! Finally, Jungkook!" I hear a male voice. It's a guy around Jungkook's age, I realize as soon as we walk in. His hair is a dark red, and his skin is pale and smooth. It's no surprise that his arms are covered in tattoos, drawings and phrases I can't read so far away. He also watches me closely, smiling warmly.

"Guys, this is YN, the one I told you about," Jungkook introduces me with a smile.

I turn red because there are at least seven people staring at me from head to toe. The apartment is well-kept, with dark wooden furniture. The living room is immaculate, with abstract paintings and photos of Jungkook and his family on the walls. I don't have much time to take everything in as my eyes focus on Jungkook's friends, who are strangers to me so far. Saying they're different from me would be an understatement.

They all have many tattoos and wear dark clothing. I sense an aura of confidence from all of them, but never hostility. It's as if they're very similar to Jungkook, with a completely different exterior from their inner selves. I relax a bit, smiling warmly and putting on my best expression.

"Nice to meet you all," I say, feeling a bit shy. They stand up and smile at me.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. I'm Yoongi. That's my girlfriend, Minji," says the red-haired guy, pointing to the woman who just smiles. I offer my hand, feeling his cold skin from the beer bottle he was holding earlier.

"I'm Bora, and this is my boyfriend, Jimin," one of the dark-haired women greets me next, pointing to her boyfriend. They're a good-looking couple, the kind you see in magazines. Jimin has the brightest and most open smile.

"Nice to meet you," I nod.

"I'm Taehyung, but you can call me Tae," one of the guys says, taking a sip of his drink.

"I'm Yoori, Tae's girlfriend. Nice to meet you," she winks, making me laugh.

"And I'm Hayun, the only single one in the group," one of the girls shakes my hand, pulling me into a hug. She kisses my cheek, making her presence increasingly noticeable.

"Hayun, you're only single because you want to be, come on," Bora rolls her eyes. Hayun laughs, grabbing a snack from the coffee table.

"I like being single, except when I'm surrounded by couples. Especially couples like you guys."

"Do you have a boyfriend, Y/N?" Jimin asks. Embarrassed, I shake my head.

"No," I reply. They seem surprised, making noises with their mouths.

"But Jungkook is single too, right?" The guy with dark hair says, drinking his beverage. I thinks his name is Tae, if I remember right.

"And I want to keep that way." Jungkook replys.

"Of course you do." Yoongi laughs along with his friends, rolling his eyes. I remain silent, not understanding the joke. Then Yoongi looks at me and seems to notice my confusion. "Y/N, Jungkook never dates. The only time he tried, it went so wrong that now he doesn’t want to do it again."

"It was a disaster." Yoori adds, as if telling a fictional story. Jungkook rolls his eyes, sighing, but his friend continues: "he’s been avoiding relationships like the devil avoids the cross since then."

"Really?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"It’s not true, Y/N." Jungkook smiles at me. "They’re idiots."

"That’s not a lie." Minji, who had been silent until then, clarifies. "He’s been asked out several times, and he always declines. Women go crazy for him, for some reason."

"I know what the reason is." Jimin laughs mischievously, suggesting something while raising an eyebrow. I turn red when they laugh at the joke. Jungkook doesn’t contest it, too busy eating one of the snacks on the table. "But what about you, Y/N? Have you ever dated before?"

"Never." I reply. They don't look surprised this time.

"So you're like Jungkook, who avoids relationships?" Bora asks with a laugh. I feel Jungkook's eyes on me, watching attentively for my response. I shake my head, feeling awkward.

"No, actually, it's just a lack of options," I clarify, deciding to be honest. I hold my hands together nervously.

"Now you have two options," Yoongi suggests with a chuckle. Minji hits his arm trying to stop him, but he continues: "There's Hayun, since she likes to try out a little bit of everything, like some pussy and shit."

"Oh!" I widen my eyes, shocked, as they laugh even more. It's the first time I've seen someone speak so openly like this. Embarrassed, I look at Hayun, but she doesn't seem to mind the comment, laughing with the others.

"Who would be the other option?" Taehyung asks his friend with his trademark grin.

"Our friend Jungkook, obviously," Yoongi clarifies, and I choke on the answer, coughing uncontrollably.

They laugh even more, watching me nearly suffocate from the joke. Jungkook pats my back, smiling widely. His thumb caresses the skin of my arm, waiting for me to calm down. We're so close that he inadvertently wraps one of his arms around my shoulder. I'm shocked and even more unsettled. For me, physical contact beyond my mom is rare. Hugs, affection... I'm just not used to it.

"Are you okay?" he asks amidst his friends' chatter. I nod, staring at my hands. "Sorry about Yoongi; he always makes these kinds of jokes. He doesn't mean any harm."

"It's fine," I assure him, feeling awkward, unable to look into his eyes. "I actually liked everyone."

"Really?" he asks, bringing his nose close to my hair. My whole body shivers as I realize he's smelling my perfume, giving a satisfied smile when he pulls away. "Good to know."

I stay silent, feeling his warm breath near me. Jungkook removes his arm from my shoulder, but his skin still brushes against mine when he takes off his heavy jacket, leaving him in just a T-shirt. His friends are fun and involve me in the conversation, making me feel comfortable, but the truth is that having Jungkook so close drives me crazy and I can't pay much attention. I wonder how long I'll feel this way about him. Will this strong effect never go away? This is the third time we've met, but something tells me that no matter how many times I see him-be it two times or a thousand-my heart will always race whenever he gets close and smiles at me.

I don't even notice the time passing and only realize it's late when Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung offer to take their girlfriends home, along with Hayun, who complains about not having anyone waiting for her at her apartment. Everyone leaves until only Jungkook and I remain. He promised to take me to his mother's house if I wanted, but I'm hesitant to ask as it's quite likely Mrs. Jeon is already asleep by now.

"Y/N, do you want me to get a towel for you?" Jungkook asks, tidying up the living room. I'm confused, picking up some empty soju bottles his friends drank to throw away.

"What do you mean?"

"You're not going to stay here?" he asks, furrowing his brow.

"Not really?" I laugh, then realize I might have been a bit rude, so I rephrase my response. "I mean, I don't think so. I don't want to be a bother."

"It's no bother. If you want, you can take a shower in my bathroom and sleep in the guest room." He offers with a smile. I bite my lower lip, unsure what to decide. I want to stay here, but it's just him and me now; is it really the right thing to do? It doesn't matter, Y/N. Just for one night.

"Okay then. Do you have a toothbrush, please?"

"Of course I do. Come with me, I'll get the stuff for you to use the bathroom." He calls me with a smile and walks down the long hallway. We pass by a few doors until we reach his room. My throat goes dry as my eyes scan the new space. His bed is large and covered with a dark gray blanket. The walls are white and everything is very organized, with a laptop next to the wardrobe and a fluffy black rug on the floor. His scent is everywhere, almost as if I'm breathing him. I clutch my hands together nervously about being alone with Jungkook in such an intimate space. He reappears after going to the closet, holding a white towel and some cotton clothes.

"You can take a shower in my bathroom while I use the guest one," he says, placing the items in my hands.

"Jungkook, that's not necessary..."

"Don't worry. I want you to be comfortable." He says before I can argue. His satisfied smile makes me not deny it again, happy to receive so much care from him. I just nod, agreeing. "The toothbrush is in the cabinet by the sink, in the package. You can open it, okay?"

"Okay, thank you very much." I smile before he walks down the hallway. I head to the door leading to the bathroom and sneak into the new space. I start thinking Jungkook has no flaws.

The place is as clean as the rest of the apartment, which makes me curious; does he clean everything himself, or does he hire someone to keep it tidy? I slowly take off my dress, grabbing my phone to text my mom and let her know I'm okay. I feel bad for lying, but the night was so good that I can't truly regret it. If I had to lie, to meet these same people, I would do it again. Thinking this surprises me, because just a few hours ago, I didn't think this way. The shower has a strong hot jet of water that massages my whole body, and it's so good that I have to convince myself to finish the shower and put on the clothes, trying to be done before Jungkook.

I brush my teeth quickly, smelling my skin that's still male fragrant with the liquid soap. I smile at myself in the mirror, brushing my hair with my fingers, trying to manage the unwashed strands. I open the bathroom door carefully, trying not to make too much noise and disturb the neighbors at this hour, when I see Jungkook again, this time only in a towel. I hold onto the doorframe, barely able to stand. A voice in my head tells me I shouldn't be watching him naked again and that I should turn around, go back into the bathroom, and pretend nothing happened, but I can't. I simply can't anymore. His muscular, wet back is in my field of vision as he searches for clothes. At that moment, my brain turns to mush and I decide to say what's been stuck in my throat.

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" I muster the courage to ask him but I regret it immediately. What the hell am I doing? Jungkook turns slowly and the view from the front is a thousand times better than from the back. His whole body glistens in the light of the room, and his tattoos have never been so vivid. His body is muscular, virile and strong. I gonna lose my mind! Feeling new sensations I've never experienced for anyone before.

"Y/N?" He whispers my name with that soft voice he used when we first met. He doesn't seem surprised or embarrassed, which makes me even more unsettled.

"You're doing this on purpose, Jungkook?" I ask again. I have no idea where I got such courage and I don't know how long it will last. My heart feels like it's going to leap out of my chest. My whole body is on edge and sweating. I feel my hands trembling as I swallow hard. "You're trying something? I mean... you're not wearing clothes again and..."

"What do you think, Y/N?" he retorts suddenly, with a hoarse, deep voice. His eyes wander from my head to toes, as he raises an eyebrow along with his piercing, with a smirk at the corner of his mouth. My legs turn to weak twigs immediately, ready to collapse.

"I-I don't know." I stammer as he takes one step, then two and three, getting closer and closer to me.

"When I arrived from my trip to Busan, on the first day, I was tired and exhausted," he tells me, taking another step. I start to run out of breath, anxious and aroused. My cheeks flush as he speaks more slowly. "All I wanted was to rest and sleep the whole night, but that night I couldn't, not for an hour. Do you know why?"

"N-no..." I moan softly as his chest presses against mine. His warm, wet skin makes contact with mine, and I no longer know where I begin or end, pressed against his body. His pink lips curl into a wicked smile, as if he knows exactly what he's doing to me and it's all intentional. I shiver as his free hand moves up my wrist and grips the back of my neck firmly, making my eyes focus on his mouth and then his dark, deep eyes.

"A woman, next window, taking off all her damn clothes, completely shameless," he growls, pulling my neck closer to his face and pressing his lips to my ear. My spine tingles as I feel his teeth on my earlobe, in a bite that doesn't hurt but damn, it makes me shiver. My body contracts once and twice, and I know exactly what I'm feeling now: desire. The kind I feel occasionally when I try to touch myself alone and can't reach climax. The feeling I only have when I'm alone and confortable in my bed, trying to use my imagination even with the lack of real experience, but this is real, and it is infinitely better than what my mind could create.

"It was an accident, Jung..." I try to say, but my voice doesn't come out. The tip of his nose travels along a sensitive spot behind my ear, one I didn't even know existed, slowly moving down my jawline, discovering new paths. His hand tightens around my waist, keeping me in place, immobile.

"It may be that you didn't notice, Y/N, but I know you were watching me, even while I was undressing, even when you had every opportunity to stop." He argues with a smile, as someone who knows what they're doing and enjoys seeing the result. "And you know what's worse...? The worst thing is knowing the effect you have on me. From the first time I saw you in my house, with your innocent and curious eyes. I can't get you out of my damn head. Your mouth, your scent..."

"J-Jungkook... please." I beg, closing my eyes tightly. And I know what I want. I want him, since the first time I saw him. Since my eyes met his, I desired him so strongly that I couldn't think straight. He pulls away just a little, and I almost moan in a plea for him not to go. He sighs, pressing his forehead to mine.

"Can I kiss you, Y/N?" he asks in a very soft voice, and I nod because, despite all the things I believe in–God, hell, heaven and even my mother–nothing has ever been as adored as Jungkook. Since I met him, inexplicably, I only think about him, like a spell unable to contemplate of any other answer besides yes. I look at his eyes as they travel to my mouth, and I lower mine to his, exhilarated by that pink that only exists in him.

I move closer, my lips almost touching his, feeling the warmth of his breath. "Just kiss me, please." I murmur scared of what I'm doing; temptation clear in every word. And then he does.

Ask for a TAGLIST in the comments.

@ane102 @ttipa @joonwater

[mommyownsmee]

SUBMISSIVE VERSION ~6.393 words

DOM/ME VERSION ~3.885 words

[Inspiration] ♡

I wake up to the soft warmth of sunlight streaming through the curtains, and the first thing I feel is you. Your presence is a quiet hum of comfort, grounding me before my eyes even open. The bed feels impossibly soft, and I’m cocooned in our shared haven—our sanctuary. I barely notice the room around me at first, too focused on the steady beat of your breathing beside me and the faint scent of you lingering in the sheets.

I shift slightly, my body still heavy with sleep, as I hear your voice—low and soothing, wrapping around me like a gentle caress. "Good morning, my love," you whisper, and the sound alone melts something inside me. I murmur something half-formed, instinctively turning toward you, seeking the warmth and safety I know only you can give. I feel your lips brush against my temple, and my heart stirs even before my body fully does.

"Time to get up, baby. I’ve got everything ready for you." Your words are so soft, so assured, and they fill me with a sense of peace I haven’t felt all week. The kind of peace only you can provide.

When my eyes finally flutter open, the first thing I notice is the golden glow bathing the room. The space feels alive with quiet intimacy, like it’s holding its breath just for us. I glance toward the window, the curtains slightly parted just enough to let the morning light kiss the wooden floors. Everything about this room feels like us. The books we’ve shared, the small treasures scattered throughout—a pressed flower, a photo, a painting I made one lazy afternoon. It’s all here, surrounding me with the tangible reminders of the life we’ve built together.

But more than the room, it’s you. You’re the reason this moment feels sacred to me.

I glance toward the foot of the bed and see the clothes you’ve chosen for me: my favorite oversized sweater, the one I always reach for when I need to feel safe, paired with leggings and warm socks. I don’t have to think about what to wear. I don’t have to think about anything. You’ve already decided for me, thought of every detail, just as you always do. It’s a small thing, but it feels monumental—a reminder that I don’t have to carry it all. Not here. Not now.

I look back at you, and you’re watching me, propped on one elbow, your eyes warm and steady. You always look at me like this, like I’m yours and yours alone. It’s in that gaze that I find myself letting go. The tension in my shoulders, the tightness in my chest from a week of being too much for too many—it all starts to slip away under the weight of your care.

I don’t have to be anything but this. Just yours. Just here. Just us.

"Thank you," I whisper, my voice still thick with sleep but full of the gratitude I feel in every part of me. You smile, leaning in to press another kiss to my forehead, and I close my eyes again, savoring it. Today, I’m not running on empty. Today, I’m not running at all. You won’t let me.

Today, there’s no space for me to lose myself in the world. Today, I’ll lose myself in you.

When I walk into the kitchen, the rich, comforting aroma of tea and freshly made food wraps around me like a warm embrace. The sunlight streaming through the tall windows bathes the room in a golden glow, but what draws my attention is you. You're already seated, calm and poised, sipping your tea as though you've been waiting just for me. I hesitate for a moment in the doorway, caught between wanting to stay rooted there and needing to come closer.

You glance up, and the soft smile that curves your lips makes my heart flutter.

"Come here," you say, your voice so soothing, so sure. There's no hesitation in your tone, no room for anything but trust, and I step forward, drawn to you like I always am.

I sit down across from you, my gaze flickering over the table before meeting your steady eyes. I open my mouth to speak, to ask, to say something, but you stop me with a subtle shake of your head. "Set the table for me, baby. No questions. Just do as I say." Your voice is warm but firm, guiding me with that familiar authority that makes me feel safe, even when I'm not sure what you're thinking.

Without a word, I move to obey. My hands work automatically, setting the plates and utensils in their proper places, each movement deliberate and focused. As I do, I can feel your eyes on me, watching every motion with quiet intensity. When you finally speak, your words are soft but powerful. "Good girl."

The praise washes over me, filling me with a quiet pride that feels almost too big to contain. My cheeks grow warm, and I know I'm blushing, but I can't help it. I love being your good girl, love how those words make my heart swell and my body relax all at once.

After breakfast, we move to the living room, the cozy space that feels like a little world we've made for ourselves.

The plush gray sofa, piled high with soft pillows, seems to beckon me. A blanket—our blanket-drapes over the back, always ready for moments like this. The faint scent of lavender fills the air, blending with the gentle hum of music coming from the record player. It's all so perfect, so carefully designed to make me feel calm, cared for, and so utterly yours.

You settle onto the couch and pull me into your lap, your arms wrapping around me in a way that feels both protective and possessive. The blanket comes around us, cocooning me in warmth, and I feel your fingers brushing through my hair. The movie you've chosen is one of my favorites, a story I know by heart, one that lets my mind wander without losing its rhythm. But I'm not paying attention to the screen; all my focus is on you.

Your fingers comb through my hair in slow, soothing strokes, and I melt against you, my body softening with every gentle touch. Your lips press against the top of my head, my temple, the sensitive curve of my neck. Each kiss feels like a quiet promise, a reminder that I'm yours and that this moment is ours.

I can't help the way my hands clutch at your shirt, anchoring myself to you as I feel myself sinking further into this space you've created for me. My gaze drifts to your lips, your collarbone, the graceful lines of your neck and chest. I want to speak, to tell you how much I need this, how much I need you, but the words catch in my throat. It doesn't matter. You already know.

"Good girl," you murmur, your voice so soft it feels like a secret meant just for me. "You're doing so well for me. Just let go."

And I do. The tension l've been carrying all week dissolves into nothingness, leaving me weightless in your arms. My body grows pliant, my breathing slows, and my thoughts fade until there's nothing left but the feeling of you-your touch, your voice, the steady rhythm of your heart.

In this space, there's no need for words, no need for control. There's only surrender, quiet and blissful, and the warmth of knowing I'm exactly where I belong: with you.

The bathroom you later decide to go to with me is warm and inviting, the soft glow of candlelight reflecting off the tiled walls. The air is filled with the soothing scent of vanilla and sandalwood, wrapping around me like a comforting embrace. The tub is already filled, steam curling upward, and you’re there, your hands steady and sure as they guide me closer. Every detail feels intentional, like it’s been created just for me, to ease away the tension I didn’t realize I was still holding.

You help me into the bath, your hands firm on my waist, and I feel the warmth of the water envelop me. It’s not just the heat that relaxes me; it’s you. Your presence is grounding, your care palpable in every motion. As your hands follow the water over my skin, I can’t help the way my breath hitches. Your touch is slow, deliberate, reverent. You linger just enough to remind me who I belong to, and I can feel my cheeks growing warm, a blush creeping across my skin. I know you notice—I know you always notice—and when your eyes meet mine, the heat in your gaze only deepens my surrender.

Then you murmur, "Do you want Mommy to dry you off?"

The question catches me off guard, and I gasp softly, my lips parting as the meaning sinks in. My blush deepens instantly, the warmth spreading from my cheeks all the way down to my chest. I can barely find the words, so I nod instead, unable to do anything else under the weight of your gaze. Your smile is soft, knowing, and it makes my heart stutter in my chest.

"You know how to make Mommy happy, don’t you, baby?" you whisper, your voice low and intimate as you wrap me in a towel. The fabric is soft against my skin, but it’s your arms around me that truly make me feel safe. I lean into you, my body sinking into your embrace. Every thought, every worry, every piece of myself that feels too much—you take it all away, leaving only the quiet hum of belonging.

And as the evening drifts on, you lead me to the bedroom, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a golden hue over the space. The towel is still wrapped around me as I sit on the edge of the bed, the satin nightgown you laid out resting beside me. My fingers brush against the fabric for a moment, but I hesitate. My mind feels so soft, so quiet, that even the idea of dressing myself feels like too much. I glance at you instead, silently waiting, knowing you’ll guide me. You always do.

"Stand up, baby," you say softly, your voice steady and soothing. The command flows over me like water, and I obey without a second thought, rising to my feet with a quietness that feels natural under your gaze. You pick up the nightgown, the silky fabric sliding through your fingers before you lift it over my head. The touch of the material against my skin is cool at first, but your hands are warm as they smooth the gown over my shoulders and down my sides. Your touch lingers just a little longer than necessary, your fingers brushing against my skin, and I shiver, a soft sigh escaping my lips.

When your eyes meet mine, I feel that familiar warmth flood through me again, the blush creeping back as your fingers tilt my chin up. Your lips find mine, soft and commanding, and I melt into the kiss, letting it ground me even further. When you pull back, your gaze holds me steady.

"Perfect," you murmur, the word like a balm against my quiet insecurities. "You're absolutely perfect."

In that moment, I believe you. Because with you, I am.

The bedroom feels warm, wrapped in a quiet intimacy that settles over me like a second skin. The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a golden light across the walls, highlighting the delicate, familiar details of this space we share. The air is a mix of lavender and sandalwood, lingering from the bath we took earlier, but more than anything, it’s the scent of you that grounds me, that keeps me present in this moment.

You guide me to the bed, your hands firm but gentle as you help me settle onto my back. The cool satin of my nightgown clings to my skin, and I can feel your eyes roaming over me, drinking me in. I blush under your gaze, the intensity of it making my body feel both exposed and cherished. The emerald green fabric feels almost decadent against my skin, the way it drapes and clings to every curve making me feel utterly beautiful, even before you speak a word.

The thin straps have slipped slightly from my shoulders, and the cool air brushes against the places where the fabric doesn’t quite cover. My thighs are bare, and the hem of the gown rests just above them, teasingly short, almost too much. I can feel how much you’re taking in, how you’re savoring the sight of me, and it makes my heart race, my breathing shallow.

But then there’s you. You’re still partially dressed, your shirt unbuttoned and hanging loosely over your shoulders. My eyes keep flickering to your chest, exposed just enough to make my pulse quicken.

I can feel my chest rising and falling quickly as I lie there, clutching at the duvet like it’s the only thing tethering me to the bed. But it’s not the duvet holding me steady—it’s you. It’s always you.

You lean over me, your palms pressing into the mattress on either side of my head, caging me in with your body. Your lips brush against my ear, and your voice, low and commanding, sends a shiver down my spine. "Look at me, baby," you say softly, and I obey instantly, tilting my head up to meet your gaze. Your eyes hold me captive, and I know I’m completely undone, completely yours. I can’t hide how far I’ve fallen into this space you’ve created for me, how my mind feels hazy, my body soft and pliant beneath your touch. My lips part as if to speak, but no words come. I don’t need to say anything—you already know.

"Look at you," you whisper, your thumb brushing over my bottom lip, and the touch makes my breath catch. "You’re so far gone, aren’t you, my sweet girl? So soft, so obedient, just the way I like you." Your words make my body melt further into the bed, and I nod faintly, trembling under the weight of your attention. Every part of me is laid bare for you, and I can feel your love, your care, in every word, every touch.

"My perfect little plaything," you murmur, your voice like a warm caress, and then your lips find mine. The kiss is soft at first, tender and grounding, but it deepens quickly, turning possessive and commanding. I respond without thought, my hands clutching at your shirt as though holding onto you is the only thing that matters. My breath hitches as you press closer, your body warm and solid against mine.

Your hand trails down my side, your touch featherlight and teasing, and I can’t stop the soft whimper that escapes my lips. The sound feels raw, unfiltered, but you love it—I can see it in the way your eyes darken, in the way your lips curve into a knowing smile against mine. That sound, that surrender-it's all for you.

Everything I am in this moment is for you.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

"You don’t have to think about anything," you whisper against my lips, and the sound of your voice melts through me, soft and commanding all at once. Your hand is slow and deliberate as it trails lower, and I feel every inch of its path, like it’s leaving a mark on my skin. "You don’t have to do anything. Just let me take care of you."

I nod, a trembling motion I can’t quite control, the weight of your words sinking into me, making my body feel impossibly soft and malleable beneath your touch. "That’s good," you murmur, and the way your tone wraps around me, warm and possessive, sends a shiver through my body. It’s a reaction I can’t hide—not from you, not ever—and the way your lips curve into the faintest smile tells me you already know.

Your hand trails down my side, fingers grazing the curve of my waist and teasing the sensitive dip of my hip. It’s so gentle, yet it leaves my body trembling, my breath catching as you linger just long enough to make me ache. When a soft, helpless whimper escapes me, I see the way your eyes darken, your breath catching just as mine does. You lean down, brushing a kiss to the corner of my mouth, then to the hollow of my throat. "I’m so proud of you," you murmur against my skin, and those words, so quiet and so full of meaning, make me feel like I might come undone right there.

"Always so good for me. Always so ready to give me everything."

I feel the weight of your body as you shift, pressing closer to me, grounding me in the warmth and solidity of you. Your hand moves lower, slipping under the hem of my satin nightgown, and I can’t stop the soft gasp that escapes my lips. My hands clutch the sheets, twisting them in my fingers as I try to hold onto something—anything—to keep myself steady. But there’s nothing steady about this moment, about the way my body arches instinctively toward your touch, about the trembling breaths that I can’t quite control.

"You’re so soft like this," you whisper, your lips brushing against my ear. Your voice carries that quiet, commanding tone that makes me shiver. "So pliable, so obedient. I could do anything I want to you, and you’d let me, wouldn’t you, baby?"

My cheeks burn as I nod again, the movement small, hesitant, but undeniable. The blush spreading across my skin feels impossibly hot, but your smile—soft against my skin—only deepens the sensation, making me feel even more exposed in the best way.

When your fingers slip away from the hem of my gown, I almost whimper again, my body leaning toward you instinctively, aching for the loss of your touch. But you’re not done with me—of course you’re not. Your fingers glide down my arm, featherlight, teasing, until they catch the thin strap of my nightgown. You tug it down slowly, baring one of my shoulders, then the other, your lips following the motion of your hand. Each kiss leaves my skin buzzing, every touch making me sink deeper into this space you’ve created for me.

"You look so beautiful in this," you murmur, your voice low and full of quiet command. "But I think I’d like you even better out of it."

Your words send a fresh wave of heat through me, and I watch you as you sit back on your knees, your hands moving with deliberate care as you slide the satin down my body. Inch by inch, you expose my skin, and I can feel your eyes on every part of me, taking me in as though this is the first time you’ve seen me like this.

The air feels cooler against my bare skin, but your gaze burns, leaving no room for the chill to linger. I’m completely exposed beneath you now, my body warm and trembling, my thighs pressing together as though I can somehow ease the ache building inside me. But I know there’s no relief—not until you decide to give it to me. I can see it in your eyes, that possessive, unshakable certainty that makes my breath catch.

I glance up at you, my lips parting as though to speak, but the words don’t come. I don’t need to say anything. I know you can see it—the way my body quivers under your gaze, the way I look at you with complete trust, complete surrender.

"You don’t have to hide from me," you say softly, your voice so warm and sure it melts through me. I feel your hands slide down my sides, your fingers grazing those sensitive spots that make me shiver. The way you touch me, the way you speak—it’s like you’re peeling back every layer of me until there’s nothing left but this: soft, open, and completely yours. "You don’t have to think. Just let me take care of you."

Your words ground me, soothe me, and all I can do is nod, letting myself sink further into the moment. When you lean down, your lips press against mine in a kiss that starts soft, teasing, like a question you already know the answer to. But then it deepens, your tongue sweeping against mine with a claiming intensity that leaves me breathless. I can’t help the soft moan that escapes me, my hands instinctively clutching at your shirt, needing something to hold onto. Every touch, every kiss from you feels electric, like my body was made for this—made for you.

Your lips trail lower, leaving a path of warmth and fire along my neck, my collarbone, my chest. My breath quickens, my body arching into your touch as though it has a mind of its own. Your hands are everywhere—firm, deliberate, possessive—as they trace the curve of my waist, the softness of my thighs. When you spread my legs, I feel my blush deepen, the vulnerability of the moment making my chest flutter. But I don’t resist. I could never resist you.

"You’ve been so perfect for me today," you murmur, your voice like a caress as you press a kiss to the inside of my thigh. The sensation sends a shiver through me, and I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks. "Always so eager to please. Do you know how much I love you like this?"

I nod, my voice trembling as I manage to whisper, "Yes, mommy." Saying the words makes me feel small and safe in a way I can’t explain, and the way your eyes light up in response fills me with warmth.

"Good girl," you say, and the praise hits me like a wave, making me melt further into the bed. Your voice is low, full of promise and control, and it sends a thrill through me. "I’m going to take care of you tonight. You don’t have to do anything but be mine."

I let out a shaky breath as you lean down again, brushing your lips against mine in a kiss that’s soft but lingering, like you’re reminding me that I’m exactly where I belong. Your hand trails over my cheek, gentle and grounding, and I turn into your touch, unable to stop myself from seeking the comfort you so effortlessly provide.

"Stay here," you murmur, your voice low and commanding, the kind of tone that leaves no room for anything but obedience. "Don’t move. Keep those pretty legs right where they are for me, baby."

I nod again, my body already trembling under the weight of your words, my thighs instinctively pressing together before I stop myself. You smile—soft, knowing, and entirely in control—and I feel the way my body relaxes, giving itself over to you completely. There's no room for thought, no room for hesitation. There's only you, and the quiet surrender that makes me feel so perfectly yours.

My heart feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest, my breathing uneven as I watch you lean down, pressing one last soft, grounding kiss to my temple. That simple touch steadies me, even as anticipation buzzes through my entire body.

Then you rise, leaving me lying there, small and soft and completely exposed under your gaze. My eyes follow you instinctively, wide and adoring, unable to tear away as you stand above me, the shift in power between us making my pulse quicken. There’s something about the way you look down at me—with that quiet, unshakable authority—that makes me feel utterly yours in a way that’s both thrilling and terrifying in its intensity.

You move to the corner of the room, to the dresser, and the sound of the drawer opening fills the quiet space. I don’t move, I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I just watch, my body frozen in a mixture of anticipation and need as your hands find the harness and strap. The faint creak of leather as you fasten the buckles seems impossibly loud in the stillness, and my breath hitches as I realize what’s about to happen.

I can’t look away. My eyes are glued to your hands, the way they move over the leather with practiced ease, the way you adjust each strap with deliberate care. I can feel my blush deepening, the heat crawling up my neck and into my cheeks as I watch you prepare yourself. My breathing grows heavier, my chest rising and falling in shallow gasps, and I can feel my thighs shifting of their own accord, trying to press together, though I know it won’t offer me any relief.

The harness wraps around you perfectly, dark leather fitting snugly against your body, framing your hips in a way that feels almost too powerful to look at. The strap is sleek and smooth, intimidating but not overwhelming, and it’s impossible not to be hyper-aware of every detail. You adjust the buckles one last time, making sure everything is just so, and then you turn back to me.

Our eyes meet, and the intensity in your gaze makes me feel like I’m going to melt into the bed. There’s something in the way you look at me—a mixture of power and affection, desire and control—that leaves me trembling. My chest tightens, my breath catching as my thighs press together again without thinking, a futile attempt to calm the ache growing inside me.

You smirk, and the deliberate confidence in that simple expression makes my whole body feel like it’s on fire. I watch, transfixed, as you cross the room back to me, every step slow and measured, every movement exuding a power that leaves me breathless. My eyes can’t stop drinking you in, the way the harness hugs your body, the way you carry yourself with such deliberate authority. It’s overwhelming, and yet, I can’t imagine looking away.

You stop at the edge of the bed, standing over me, and the weight of your gaze makes me tremble. My body feels small, pliant, and completely exposed to you, and I know you can see it—the way I shiver under your eyes, the way I grip the duvet just a little tighter, trying to keep myself from falling apart too soon.

"I think you’ve earned a reward, don’t you?" Your voice is soft but steady, laced with that quiet authority that makes me want to do nothing but obey. The words make my heart race, my body arching slightly without even meaning to, and all I can do is nod, unable to find my voice.

I nod quickly, my eyes darting between your face and the strap, my cheeks burning with a blush I can’t control. My heart is pounding in my chest, and I feel utterly exposed, trembling under your steady, knowing gaze.

"You can’t speak, baby?" you murmur, your voice soft but laced with power. I shiver as your fingers trail along the curve of my thigh, the touch light but commanding, pulling a quiet whimper from my lips. "Do you want this? Do you want me to fill you, to remind you who you belong to?"

"Y-Yes," I manage to whisper, my voice barely audible, shaky with anticipation. My body feels like it’s humming, my mind soft and pliant, and your smile sends a thrill through me—a mixture of tenderness and control that makes me melt even more.

You climb onto the bed with deliberate grace, settling between my legs, and I feel the press of the harness against my skin as you lower yourself over me. The weight of you is grounding, the warmth of your body pulling me deeper into this space where nothing else exists but you. Your hands frame my face, your touch firm but gentle as you tilt my chin up so our eyes meet. I can’t look away. The intensity of your gaze holds me completely, and when your lips find mine, the kiss is slow, possessive, leaving no doubt in my mind that I’m yours.

"You’re mine," you murmur against my lips, the words a quiet promise that settles deep in my chest. "Every inch of you belongs to me."

I nod again, the motion small and trembling, and you smile, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. The praise that follows, "Good girl," feels like it wraps around me, sinking into my skin. I let out a shaky breath, surrendering completely as you whisper, "Now, let me take care of you."

I feel you guide yourself against me, the strap sliding along my wetness, teasing and deliberate. My body arches instinctively, my hands clutching at the sheets as soft, desperate sounds escape my lips. The ache inside me is overwhelming, and I can’t stop the quiet moans that rise as you take your time, coaxing every bit of need from me.

"So responsive," you murmur, your voice filled with quiet admiration as your hand cups my cheek. Your gaze meets mine, and the love and control I see there make me feel like I could cry from the intensity of it. "You’re perfect like this, baby. Completely mine."

When you finally push into me, it’s slow and deliberate, every inch a reminder of your ownership, of how fully I belong to you. I gasp softly, my back arching as my body adjusts, the fullness grounding me and pushing me further into surrender. You still for a moment, your hands steady on my hips, your presence calming and reassuring.

"You’re doing so well," you whisper, your voice gentle, like a balm. The kiss you press to my temple makes my chest ache with how much I love you. "You take me so perfectly, my love."

The rhythm you set is slow at first, teasing and deliberate, pulling soft gasps and quiet whimpers from my lips with every movement. Your hands grip my thighs, keeping me open for you, and I feel completely vulnerable, completely exposed—but safe, so utterly safe in your hands.

My chest rises and falls quickly, my breaths uneven as my body responds to you without hesitation. Every motion, every touch, every word you murmur feels like it’s unraveling me, drawing me closer to something I can’t quite name but trust you to lead me to.

"That’s it," you murmur, your voice low and steady, a grounding force in the haze. "Let go for me, baby. Let me take you where you need to go."

And I do. I let go of everything-every thought, every hesitation, every piece of myself that doesn't belong in this moment. My body moves with yours, my breath catching on every gasp, every moan that escapes me, and all I can feel, all I can be, is yours.

As the pace quickens, the room fills with the sound of us moving together, the rhythm of our bodies blending with the heat of your whispered praise. My head spins, my breath coming in shallow gasps as your voice cuts through the haze, grounding me, owning me. Your lips find mine, the kiss possessive and deep, stealing what little breath I have left. One hand tangles in my hair, holding me in place, while the other steadies me, keeping me anchored beneath you.

"You’re so good for me," you whisper against my lips, your voice low and full of intent. "So perfect. My good girl."

The words make my chest tighten, a flood of warmth rushing through me that only fuels the fire already consuming me. My moans spill out louder now, raw and unrestrained, mixing with the steady rhythm of your movements. I feel completely exposed, utterly vulnerable, and yet, I’ve never felt safer than I do in this moment, beneath you, yours.

Your hands slide up my body, your fingers brushing along the curve of my waist, the swell of my chest, before settling on my hips. The pressure of your grip is firm, commanding, keeping me exactly where you want me, holding me steady as you move with deliberate purpose. Every thrust feels like a claim, and my body arches instinctively, desperate to give you everything you ask for.

My head falls back against the pillows, exposing my throat to you, and the moment your lips press there, I shiver, gasping as your teeth graze just enough to leave a spark of sensation behind. Your breath is hot against my skin as you murmur, "I love you," and the tenderness in your voice makes my heart ache, even as my body burns for more. "You’re always so good. Always what I need."

Your words fill me completely, making me tremble with a mix of love and surrender. My hands reach for you, clutching at your back, your arms, anything I can hold onto to keep myself grounded as wave after wave of sensation crashes over me. My fingers curl into you, nails pressing into your skin, and I feel your body respond to my touch, your movements becoming even more deliberate.

Then your hand tilts my chin up, and my hazy eyes meet yours. The intensity in your gaze holds me captive, and the vulnerability you find in mine makes me feel like I might unravel entirely. My chest tightens with love, my body trembling as I try to keep my focus, to give you everything you’re asking for.

"Look at me," you command softly, your voice steady but laced with a quiet power I could never resist. "Don’t look away. I want to see you when you fall apart."

I nod, barely able to manage the motion, my lips parting as if to speak, but no words come. The only sound I can make is a sharp gasp when you adjust your angle, your movements suddenly hitting the perfect spot. My body arches involuntarily, a cry escaping my lips as the pleasure rushes through me.

"There it is," you murmur, your voice filled with satisfaction as your lips curve into a knowing smile. "That’s my girl. Take it for me. Let me see how good I can make you feel."

Your words push me closer to the edge, your touch guiding me, commanding me, as my body responds to you with complete surrender. I don’t think, I don't hold back-there's nothing but this moment, nothing but you. The way you look at me, the way you move, the way you call me yours-it all consumes me, pulling me under, until there's nothing left but the bliss of falling apart for you.

Your breath comes in short, uneven gasps, my hands clutching desperately at the sheets as you push me closer and closer to the edge. My body feels like it’s on fire, every nerve ending alive and attuned to you. I can’t stop the way my legs tremble around you, the way your name falls from my lips like a prayer, broken and pleading. "You’re so close, aren’t you, baby?" you ask, your voice low and filled with promise, and the sound sends a fresh wave of shivers through me. "Let go for me. I want to feel you fall apart."

Your words tip me over the edge. With a shuddering gasp, I give in completely, letting myself unravel for you, my body and mind wholly yours in this moment. The release washes over me like a wave, overwhelming and all-encompassing, and the only thing grounding me is you. The way you hold me, the steadiness of your presence—it keeps me safe even as I fall apart.

My body tenses for a moment, every muscle tightening under the force of my climax, and then I melt beneath you, soft and trembling. My cries fill the air, raw and unrestrained, and I know you hear them, know they’re for you. You keep your hands steady on my hips, your movements slowing just enough to guide me through the waves of release, letting me ride them until there’s nothing left but quiet, blissful surrender.

"That’s it," you whisper, your lips brushing against my ear, your voice soft and full of love. "So beautiful. So perfect."

Your words make my chest ache in the best way, a warmth spreading through me that has nothing to do with the heat of the moment and everything to do with the way you see me. The way you know me.

When you finally still, I’m trembling, my chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. My body feels soft, pliant, completely spent beneath you, but your touch keeps me grounded. You press gentle kisses to my forehead, my cheeks, my lips, and each one feels like a tether, pulling me back to you, back to safety.

"You did so well for me," you murmur, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. Your voice is tender, full of pride and affection, and the words make me feel like I’ve given you something meaningful, something precious. "I’m so proud of you, my love."

You pull out slowly, carefully, your movements so deliberate that even the slight loss feels gentle. I can’t help the soft whimper that escapes me, my body already missing the fullness of you, and my hands instinctively reach for you, needing to feel you close. You smile—a soft, knowing smile that makes me feel so deeply seen-and you gather me into your arms without hesitation.

The blanket comes around us as you settle back onto the bed, holding me against your chest, and I relax into you completely. My head rests on your shoulder, your steady heartbeat grounding me in the aftermath. Your fingers stroke through my hair in slow, soothing motions, your voice soft and reassuring as you murmur, "You're safe. You're mine. You've always been mine."

And I believe you. I always will. In your arms, I know I'm exactly where I belong.

[mintmatcha]

Inevitable Things: chapter two

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks. no porn in first two chapters, sorry gang :)

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

When you arrive at 8:35, all of the lights in the building are already on, a warm, yellow hued light against the stormy sky. The exterior almost melts into the overcast; it makes you think of that ‘bye-bye blue' that Disney coined for its buildings, only much more depressing. Sometimes you look at this build and think about the hours of your life that it’s stolen, but not today. No, for once, you decide to have a good day. 

It’s your birthday, after all.

The dash across the parking lot is a bit wobbly, your heels catching the gravel and potholes. Mic had texted you last night to remind you to wear something special, since he and a couple other office friends were taking you out, so you had dawned the only pair of heels you actually liked: a red pair you found at a thrift shop years ago. The stilettos are a bit high and much too sexy for your taste, but there’s an unknowable something about them that you love. 

You did, however, forget your umbrella.

One of the interns is by the door, jacket pulled over his head to protect himself and his cigarette from the rain. Izuku, chubby cheeked and doe eyed, is shorter than most of his peers, with thick green curls that puff up and frizz in the humidity. For his stature, he’s surprisingly built; he and his boyfriend -no, fiance now- go to the gym together every morning and the hard work shows. You can’t help but notice the curve of bicep that flexes as he moves his arm back to his face.

“Good morning!” you call out. The weather is cool, so you wrap both hands around your special little birthday latte. Izuku seems unphased by the weather; he sniffles a bit as he pulls another drag, freckled nose wrinkling. The red stained rims of his eyes are stark against his tan skin. 

“Yeah.” He sucks in a breath, trying to keep his voice light and failing. His Southern draw sits heavy on his tongue. “Not quite.”

“Oh no, what happened?” Rain drives a shiver up your spine and so does the look in his eyes.

 “Like, okay, it was so-” He takes another thick pull and exhales it too quickly, coughing a bit as he talks. His ideas come faster than his mouth can handle. “First thing this morning-- well, actually, Ka-chan and I got here before anybody, so it wasn’t, like, first thing-first thing, you know? Anyway, like- thirty minutes after the first thing, when Mr. Aizawa arrived, he like, didn’t even set his stuff down before he told me to get into the conference room, which is crazy because he usually won’t do anything until you’re here and-”

“Izuku, focus.”

“I am focused-- these are important details! Mr. Aizawa pulled me into a conference room this morning and reamed me out. Incompetent: he called me lazy and incompetent, which is crazy because I do so much in this department! You wouldn’t believe it! And you know what Ka did? Laughed. He could hear it from the cubicle and he laughed, isn’t that awful? We’re getting married and yet he thinks it's okay to laugh at my misfortun-?”

“Wait, slow down,” you say. “Why were you yelled at?”

Izuku takes a dramatic gulp of air to slow himself, but it clearly does nothing. His finger twiddle the cigarette back and forth, ash falling to the puddle at his feet.. “He told me the work I turned in yesterday wasn't acceptable.”

It couldn't be the things you did. There’s no way; you’re smart -- well, okay, maybe not. You’re competent at least-- competent enough that you’ve done the reports previously without any complaints. 

“No.”

“It's my fault.” Izuku continues. His accent gets thicker when it’s holding worry, clipping words and rounding out other sounds. “I should have finished them myself, but Denki offered to help me out-- and I had a meeting with the wedding planner yesterday so I had to leave early; if i was late again I would have upset Mitsuki and I couldn’t upset Mitsuki again because she’s intense, like, way more intense that Katsuki ever is, so I’m a little terrified of her-”

Fuck. You can’t listen- you’re trying to focus on keeping your breakfast down. That was your work. You’re the one that made Izuku and Denki look bad.

“-Biomedical engineering. Why did I pick biomedical engineering? I should have chosen law school like Iida. That would have been a better career path.”

“What about Denki?” You interrupt his rambling and he seems to snap out of his panic loop. For once, he’s quiet. “What about Denki, Izuku?”

“Oh.” Izuku says. “Yeah. Well.”

He places the cigarette between his teeth and goes to suck, only to realize he’s hit the filter. With a tsk, he smashes the embers against the concrete side of the building, but doesn’t drop the butt, instead holding it in his palm. A trickle of rain runs down your cheek, just enough to make you shiver.

“Allegedly,” Now, he speaks too slowly, chewing on every word. ��HR is working on his off boarding.”

Your body forgets how to breathe. The interns are all part of a specific college program- if they aren’t working, they don’t get credit towards their summer graduation. Because of you, Denki will not be graduating this spring-- in fact, he’s going to have to wait another full school year until he can apply for graduating again. Your head is spinning from the lack of oxygen and you have to manually force yourself to suck in a breath.

“He’s fired?” you ask, stupidly. 

“I’m not surprised, to be honest.” Izuku says. His pretty little curls are flattened now, heavy with wet. “This was his fifth big mistake and Mr. Aizawa is, well… he’s Mr. Aizawa. He doesn’t pull any punches.”  

“Oh, geez.” You want to barf. “Oh, no, oh, geez.” 

You’re ruining someone's life. One mistake and  you’ve fucked everything up. Tears prickle hot behind your eyes as you think; what are your options here? You can’t just let this happen. Your job is to fix things-- that’s the only thing you’re good for. Discussing this with Aizawa would be a dead end; he’d probably just fire you too. You need to go above him. 

“I’ll fix this,” you say, mostly to reassure yourself. You turn on your heel and march inside, a plan already forming in your mind. “Don’t worry.”

“Fix what?” Izuku calls after you. “Denki getting fired?”

You flash the security officer your badge, not bothering to turn around. There’s no time for that. The head of HR is usually punctual, so you only have a couple minutes before he arrives and sees the termination paperwork. It’ll take time to process, of course, but you’d rather fix this before it’s even reached that point.  You scramble to your desk and don’t bother to sit down before you’re picking up your phone and dialing. The number is posted on a little sticky note, right under ‘emergencies only’ written in big red letters. This… counts, right? This is an emergency in its own regard.

The line rings once, then twice. Then, it clicks. 

“Good morning.” The voice on the other side is unusually smooth, a clear timbre despite it all. In between words he takes long, drawing breaths, pulling through his nasal cannula. “Is my company? On fire?”

You laugh at that and you aren’t sure why. Maybe it’s the trill of fear in your gut, burrowing its way out anyway it can. “Good morning, sir. No, the building is still standing, luckily.”

“Please,"  he says, and you understand immediately.

“Yagi.” The informality of it all feels weird, even after all this time. He's the CEO and he wants you to address him like a friend. It’s been that way since you first started, but it still feels undeserved. “How are you?”

“I’m well.” Behind him you can hear the mumble of the television: a children’s show, you think. “My niece is visiting. So, I’ve been. Spending a lot of time. By the pond, feeding the ducks.”

He mentioned once that he had wanted children, but the company had taken up too much of his time. That memory makes your gut twist in a different way as you remember just how finite his time really is. 

“That sounds lovely.”

“It is lovely.” He pauses. Then, clears his throat. “Not that I’m. Not happy to hear from you, but… why are you calling?”

“Well, I-” You’re not sure where to start. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, swaying like you have to pee. “I made a mistake.”

“What kind of mistake?”  

“Not a company ruining one, but…” Oh, geez. Maybe you'll end up being the one without a job today.  “I finalized some work for the engineering department interns and it wasn’t up to standard. And the manager-”

“-Shouta?”

 “Yes, uh. Aizawa. He wasn’t aware of that fact and he fired the intern for work that I did.”

There's a pause.

“Are you sure?” He sniffles a bit. You can picture how he itches his nose with the back of his hand. He hates that tube. “I know he isn’t. The warmest man, but Aizawa. Isn’t one to fire. An employee without. Apt reason. Have you tried. Speaking to him?”

You can’t. The idea of confrontation makes your skin itch. Besides, you can’t just look him in the eyes and admit you fucked up-- he’d lose his mind. 

“I just can’t let Kaminari get in trouble for my work.”

Yagi hums a low tone.

“I’ll bring it. To Shouta’s attention.” You almost jump for joy at that. “And I’ll let HR. Know.”

“Oh, thank you.” You’re physically bouncing. “I felt so guilty.”

“That’s under. Standable.” he says. “Maybe we. Have the engineers. Do their own work from now on, okay?”

“I know, I know, I just--” Can’t say no? “I like to be useful.”

“You’re more than useful.” His voice is warm, almost paternal. “I’m being told that I have an episode of Bluey to watch, so…”

“Goodbye, have fun, thank you, thank you, thank you.”

You hang up, then wait a couple beats before sighing with relief. Crisis avoided! Happy birthday to you! Maybe, against all odds, this will be a good day. 

You drop into your seat and let it spin. Your latte isn’t hot anymore, but even lukewarm it’s still pretty damn good. After it boots up, your computer notifications are alight with companies wishing you a happy day and a merry 30% off. There’s a couple of DMs from coworkers that you haven’t opened yet as well and the attention makes you glitter.You almost forget that Touya still hasn't read your messages. It's not a surprise; he always forgets your birthday. It shouldn’t upset you at this point.

The workday official starts and, for once, it’s calm. There’s time to organize your desk and check on your facebook. Maybe, just maybe, the universe has decided to be kind to you. Yagi sounded better than he usually does, if not a bit winded.

You’re thirty, but you don’t feel older. 18 feels like last week, 25 is still your friend. Being this old almost feels like a joke-- especially being this old and single, with a job you’re not passionate about. You thought, maybe, that things would be okay by now. You’d be successful, with more than a couple hundred in your checking account, and a husband that could return a fucking text. Life, of course, had other plans.

It’s not that you don’t love Touya. You do. You really do. You just wish that you didn’t. It's easier to love someone like Hizashi or a boring man from R&D, but being with him feels like running on sand as it sinks down an hourglass. You're too far gone already, too intertwined with him; fate has linked you to a man that will inevitably break your heart, over and over again.

You almost don’t notice the stomp of boots down the hallway until it’s too late. You’ve been eclipsed.

Aizawa turns the corner so quickly that you jump and spill your coffee. His brow furrowed so deeply that his ‘11’ lines have gained an extra 1, and extra wrinkles have puckered around his straight drawn mouth. When he speaks, his lips curl up in one corner in revulsion, giving you a hint of canine. Someone from marketing walks down the hall,  meets your eyes, then turns back around, fleeing it away from this situation. You wish you could do the same.

 His hands press flat against your desk. The space he takes up alone makes you wilt, drawing back into your chair. Oh, he's pissed. Beyond pissed. His hair is down for once, falling in front of his face as he talks, and his hoodie sleeves are pushed to his elbows, revealing the punched, tense muscle underneath. The finer hairs on his arms are raised up into goosebumps, standing straight like pins.

“If you have a problem with the way I run my department,” Aizawa seethes. “At least have the balls to say it to my face.” 

The air in your lungs turns icy. You’re frozen there, hands hovering above your keyboard, unsure if you should even pick up your drink. 

“On what planet is it acceptable to tattle on me to the CEO?” His voice carries down the hall as he growls at you, the low, rolling tone of his voice somehow more terrifying than actual yelling. He reminds you of a wild dog, ears pinned back and ready to bite. And you’re just the poor rabbit in his path. “And to HR? Are you fucking kidding? You’re better than this.”

Oh, this is the type of interaction you were trying to avoid. Heat flares across your cheeks as you sputter and you frantically look anywhere else to avoid the burn. “I-- uh--”

“Did the interns come crying to you again?” Aizawa continues. “Did you let them walk all over you again?”

He leans in even closer.

“You are not their mother or their friend. They are adults. With jobs. And they do not need the secretary saving them from work they are paid to do-- especially Kaminari, who regularly abuses your good faith.”

Your shoes. You focus on those. Your pretty, candy red heels with the delicate strap, the ones Touya always compliments and the ones that make you feel beautiful. 

“Calling Toshinori? May I remind you that he is actively dying? May I remind you that you are actively wasting his time with this?"

Shoes, look at your shoes.

"I also don’t have the fucking time for this. We are a business in a time crunch-- I don’t have the energy or brain power or man power to be dragging around dead weight," he says. "If I decide someone isn't fit enough to work here, they are not fit to work here. Do you understand that?”

Oh. A sudden, horrible realization hits you. All of the weeks of stress and loneliness and heartbreak and other random bullshit that’s built up in your life is hitting all at once and, despite how hard you’re trying not to, you are going to cry. Tears are prickling hot against the corners of your eyes, burning to come out, and you know there’s only second before they spill over-

“Do you understand that?”

You look up. He looks down. Your lip quivers. 

Aizawa immediately draws back, eyes widening with realization. He opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again, drawing in a short breath. His brows are pinched together differently now; if he was anyone else, you’d assume he was sorry. If he was anyone else, you might care.

“I didn’t mean to…” he tries.

“You’re-” You want to scream and fight and curse, but all you can say is: “I hate you.”

It’s incredibly juvenile, but saying it feels good. With all of the fury you can muster, you stand, chair bouncing back against the wall behind you, and march out of there and straight into the women’s bathroom. You hold your chin high until the door slams behind you. 

Then, you sob. It’s loud enough that you know it can be heard in the hall, wet enough that all of your make-up ends on the back of your hands, hard enough that you lose one of your contacts, but you just can’t stop. It comes in a torrent, one that doesn’t stop until you’re all blurry eyed and swollen and absolutely, positively destroyed.  

Fucking astrology. Fucking Aizawa. Fucking work. Fucking Touya. Fucking turning thirty.

Your heels look stupid against the blue and white linoleum. The faux leather no longer looks convincing, but like cheap, normal plastic. Your cellphone is still on your desk and covered in an 8 dollar latte, so there's nothing to distract you from your own downward spiral. You want to be helpful. You want to be a good person, but nothing seems to work out that way. 

By the time you manage to peel yourself out of the bathroom stall, the world has started to turn again. Someone’s at the coffee station, stirring in way too many sugars, someone else is taking on the phone just out of earshot. Aizawa is thankfully gone. You’re not sure you could have handled more of that.

Frankly, you’re not sure you can handle more of anything. You strip your other contact from your eye and throw on your only other option: the emergency glasses you have stashed in your desk. Great, as if you didn't feel bad enough already, now you feel ugly too. 

A ping comes through from HR, letting you know that you have sick time available 'if need be.’ For once, the office gossip works in your favor. You shoot off a quick reply, confirming that you're going to head out, then grab your phone. It's sticky and wet, but it still works.

do you want to leave work early and go get drunk?<-

Hizashi’s response is almost immediate.

->leave work early????? who is this and what have you done with my babygirl?????

-is that a no? ): <-

->are you kidding?????? I’ll be at your desk in 15

You are going to get drunk. Very. Very. Drunk.

[megs-1800]

Take Care Of You

Notes: I have had this in my drafts forever. I am so glad I finally finished it. Send me some requests as I am struggling with ideas on what to write. (Y/F/T - Your Football Team). Reader is a Fem footballer who plays for a Mens team.

Summary: You play for a men's football team in which your team draws against Man United in the FA cup. You and Mason have been dating for 8 months but keeping your relationship a secret. When one of the United players tackle you and cause you a fatal injury will Mason be able to keep his cool or will everyone find out about your secret relationship?

Pairings: Mason Mount x Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, mentions of injuries and blood. Implied Smut.

I can feel my eyes slowly open as I hear my alarm going off, I quickly reach over to the bedside table and turn it off groaning as the tiredness overwhelmed me. As I let out a stretch I felt a body next to me and all the memories from last night come flooding back. I turn and see Mason giving me a sleepy smile “Last night was incredible” he mutters “you know we are both going to get into the shit for having sex the night before a game if anyone finds out”.

I shake my head and give Mason a lazy kiss “I don’t care it was totally worth it. To be honest I still have plenty of energy for another round” which I give Mason a suggestive wink and bring him closer. I can hear him utter a groan “Umm you are so irresistible Y/N” he says trailing his fingers up and down my body sending shivers down my spine. “But we both have got to play 90 minutes today and I need to be in my best form especially if I gotta play against you”. I hum into Mason knowing he was right and giving him another kiss.

We lay there for another 5 minutes just embracing eachother, Mason reaches over and taps his phone looking at the time and slowly pulls away. “I really need to get going I need to go back to the hotel and get showered and changed and meet the boys before the game.”

“I know I just really don’t you want to leave” I give Mason a pouty face. As Mason gets dressed.

“I know baby I really don’t either, how about after the game I come back here? The boys are travelling back but I can stay here if you are happy with that? We can have tomorrow off together?”

I nod in agreement to Mason and give him another kiss as he leans over me on the bed. “Sounds perfect! I would wish you could luck for today but I don’t really mean it” I joked and shoot Mason a wink.

“I love you baby girl” Mason shoots me a smile as he walks out the door.

“I love you more Mase” I quickly reply so he can hear me.

I hear his car pull away from the driveway and I know I need to get up too. I quickly stretch and make my way into the shower. I look in the mirror see the bright purple hickey on my neck I am going to have fun covering that up I thought. As I get into the shower I let the hot water heat me as I put my head back to rest on the tiles as I let myself relive last night.

Mason and I have been dating for 8 months, it was still relatively new and due to this we wanted to keep it private. We have met eachothers families and a couple of close friends but apart from that we have kept it out of the media. Its been difficult to have to keep sneaking around but we both know its for the best at the moment. I am a professional footballer playing for Y/T/N you play upfront as a striker and are widely known as you are the only girl to play for a mens professional team. Today you have drawn Man United at home in the FA cup, everyone is so excited but you are nervous having to play against Mason, it will be the first time you are not rooting for eachother and will be playing against eachother.

I can feel the nerves hit, it’s a massive game today and it’s the quarter finals. I feel like I have something more to prove being a girl. We are doing the warm ups on the pitch, it’s a nice March afternoon and the sun is shining so I hope luck is on our side.

I can feel the tension in the tunnel, I am jumping up and down and doing my thigh stretches before the game. The captain is shouting words of enthusiasm to try                                                                                                and get us pumped. I can see the Man United team line up next to me. I can see Mason a couple of players down he gives me a little smile and a little wink, which I return with a warm smile. I quickly turn away trying not to blush. That’s when I hear one of the Man United guys shout “Jheez look at that piece of ass” I turn around to notice that it is one of United’s new signings Blaze Pama he is their newly appointment defender. I am used to being sexualised as I am playing in the men’s team but never before from the opposition, I roll my eyes and I can see Mason shoot him a look of disgust but then one of our players steps in “yeah and watch how that piece of ass tear you apart on that field” I quickly mouth a thank you to him which he responds with “we always got your back”. All the team are like my protective brothers they always make sure I am shielded.

I can hear the music and that’s when we walk onto the pitch, we are set up ready for kick off and I feel my eyes drifting to Mason which he catches me staring and gives me a quick funny look in return, I know catching me staring at him has boosted his ego. I just hope I can keep my head in the game.

It gets to half time and I am knackered, maybe Mason was right maybe we shouldn’t of slept together last night. Now I know why they put that rule in place. We are listening to the gaffer give his half time team talk. He turns to me “Y/N you are having the best game! I know you keep getting those little tugs and fowls by that Pama but just ignore him do not let yourself retaliate” I nod my head in agreement I think he has seen how fed up I am getting of the fouled.

Its currently a 0-0 draw, we are impressed that we have not conceded yet. On paper Man United have the better team but we are working so hard. I have had a couple of chances which one of the was cleared right off the line by Onana. I am having one of my best games of the season.

We are out ready for the second half which Pana looks at me across the pitch and licks his lips, I scowl at him and roll my eyes. Mason catches my looks and turns his gaze to see what I am looking at. He walks straight over to Pana “come on leave her alone mate” Pana looks confused at Mase “that’s what we are supposed to be doing! I am getting in her head. Why do you care anyway you fucking it or something?” Mase doesn’t reply and walks away, Pana is new to the team and hasn’t settle in well, Mason wasn’t his biggest fan and after his actions he really hasn’t gone up in his ratings.

The ref’s whistle blows indicating the start of the 2nd half, Pana continues to keep giving me knocks and unnecessary tackles I am trying my best not to retaliate but he is causing it difficult he isn’t playing football he just playing dirty. United score within the first 10 minutes of the second half, great cross from Mason which Højlund buries at the back of the net. Our keeper kicks the ball to me and I place it on the centre stop “come on Boys we can do this!” I shout back in encouragement. United are now on fire after their goal throwing everything at us. They are through on goal which our defender makes an excellent tackle and kicks the ball up field to me, I bring the ball down and keep running. I can see Mason is picking up the pace to keep up with me, that’s when Mason puts his legs out and wins the ball. I topple over the top of his feet and he runs off with the ball. I  quickly get up and wipe myself down and run after Mason. The ball is kicked out of play and Mason quickly tuns to me and mouths a “sorry” my heart warms that even playing against me he apologised.

We are now in added on time and we are throwing everything at the ball, we are all having shots just trying to get a sneaky goal. The board goes up and confirms there is only 2 mins of added on time. We get a corner, I am stood on the penalty spot and I can feel my shirt being pulled “come on ref for fuck sake how many times?!” I am shouting, Pama turns to me “shout up you little bitch! You shouldn’t be on the pitch anyway” I turn around and shove him “fuck off will you!” I shout back at Pama I have had enough. The ref blows the whistle and tells us to break it up. I bring my attention back to the corner that is about to be taken.

I am watching the ball the whole way, then in the corner of my eye I see Pama’s studs its too late for me to move out the way and as the ball hits my head his studs connect with the side of my face. I go down screaming in pain. I watch as our players screaming at the ref for a penalty, which the ref confirms its being checked by VAR and then all the players attentions turn to me.

I am still screaming in pain, Mason is already with me “let me look! Let me look” which I can hear the panic in his voice. I put my head up and I can feel the blood running down my face. “hey you are going to be okay yeah” Mason tries to reassure me but he doesn’t sound too convincing,  a couple more of our players come over and inspect my face. They all calling for the physios over. Mason walks straight to Pama “What the fuck man!” and shoves Pama, Bruno pulls Mason away straight before it gets heated. “There was no need for that!” he tries to explain to Bruno “he probably has given away a pen!” Mason tries to cover up the fact that he hurt his girl. Bruno tells him to walk away.

Mason walks over to where I am sitting, blood staining the ground. I can feel myself getting light headed from the loss of blood. They are trying to patch me up, but when the physio’s are asking me questions and follow their fingers I cannot do it, I feel so weak from the hit. The physio’s shake their head towards to the captain and I see the worry in Mason’s eyes. I mouth a quick I am okay to him to try and reassure him. I can feel the tears running down my face alongside the blood due to the pain. We can see the ref listening to the piece in his ear which he points to the spot awarding us a penalty and give Pana a red card. I can hear our fans excited about the penalty and giving Pana verbal abuse as he walks off.

“Do you think you can walk?” the physio’s ask. I shake my head “I-I don’t know I can t-try” I reply. I slowly get up with the help of my players and I can see Mason trying to give me space to not make it too obvious we are a couple but his eyes do not leave mine as I walk off the pitch. I am taken straight down the tunnel to get medical attention from our physio’s.

We score the penalty meaning it is taken to penalties. United win on penalties unfortunately. I watch the game from the TV in the medical room. As soon as the game is finished I see my phone buzz. I look down and see a message from Mase:

Mase: How are you feeling? X

Y/N: I have been better.. but considering everything I am doing okay thank you for having my back out there x

Mase: Of course I will always protect you. Did you want to leave tonight if you not feeling great? X

Y/N: Don’t be silly my brother said he will drop me off as I cannot drive but I would love to meet you there. I just want to be in your arms right now xx”

Mase: Okay take it easy and I cannot wait to see that beautiful face. I love you xx

Y/N: I love you too xx

My brother drives me back home once they have stitched me up, the drive was relatively quiet with just my brother chatting about how if he gets hold of Pama he is a dead man which makes me laugh. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” My brother asks as we pull up outside my house. “Thanks for the offer but Mase has come over to look after me so I will be all good”.

“I am glad you got Mason” my brother says giving me cuddle “I know I am a very lucky girl”. I thank him again for driving me home and told him to message me once he is home. He watches me walk inside then slowly drives up the drive way.

Once inside I can hear the TV on low volume and the smell instantly hits me, whatever it is smells amazing. Mason suddenly appears from around the corner, as soon as he sees me he runs across the room and wraps me in his arms. He places a soft kiss to my forehead “how are you doing?” he asks inspecting my scars. I give Mason a small smile “I am just shattered its been a long day. The scar doesn’t hurt too much just my head is really sore”.

Mason gives me another hug “I am so sorry baby come and sit on the sofa. I have put dinner on as I am starving so I am guessing you are too” which I nod in response.

“It smells amazing Mase, I cannot wait to eat that! Well I am guessing a congratulations is in order my semi-finalist!”

“Thank you baby! The boys are so excited. I just wish it didn’t end like that. Pama had not right to do that. Its so far out of order! Wait until he is back in training I am going to give him a peace of my mind, no one hurts my girl.” He places a strand of hair that has fallen out of my messy bun behind my ears and gives me a kiss to my lips, it’s a small soft kiss like he is trying to be careful not to break me.

“Mase he isn’t worth it. I have played up against so many pricks like that before. He thinks because I am girl he needs to assert his dominance. Its not worth it affecting your career just because he is a dickhead. Now come on I am okay that’s the main thing and now I get my sexy boyfriend to look after me”.

The sound of my phone binging takes us out our romantic moment “Jheez someone is popular! Everyone must be so worried about you” Mason says “Yeah my management team released a post confirming I am okay I am guessing this is just the comments from that.” I open up my phone and see all the Instagram comments. I suddenly stop and am wide eyed. Mason looks at me with concern “whats wrong?” he asks. “Well I think our secret is out”. I say passing Mason the phone so he can see the comments for himself.

Your yourusername posted:

Thank you to all the Y/T/N fans today, I am gutted about the result but thank you for cheering us on loud, your support is exceptional. Thank you to all who have messaged regarding the injury, I am all okay just need time and rest. I had 14 stitches along my hairline but I will be making a total recovering and be back playing as soon as possible! As always thank you for being the best fans in the world!   

User 1: I cannot believe Pama’s tackle absolutely out of order. No sportsmanship at all!

User 2: I was so worried when Y/N went down with the amount of blood. Glad she is going to make a total recovery.

User 3: Is anyone going to talk about how Mason Mount went straight to Y/N when she went down?

User 4: Yeah and the way he shoved and went off at Pama after the tackle?

User 5: Did anyone else see the replay when Mason tackled Y/N and he mouthed ‘Sorry’ to her? Totally shipping them together 💗

User 6: I love Mason and Y/N together, please tell me its true 🥰

User 7: Give the fans what they want! 🙌

“Well I guess its out in the open now” Mason says shrugging it off.

“I knew playing eachother was going to be an issue” I say with panic in my voice.

“Calm down why are you panicking? You knew they were going to find out eventually and well they seem to be very happy about it. So why don’t we give them exactly what they want?”

It would be nice to have everything out in the open regarding me and Mason, having us a secret has been nice but it is probably time to do the hard launch. Everyone already is assuming so it does make sense. “I think I am ready to be public official with you Mount” Mason gives me the biggest smile and kisses me, this time with urgency and passion. I wince as his hand goes to grab my hair, Mason quickly pulls away “shit I am sorry” he says apologising. “Its fine just a bit delicate for now, we cannot go as hard as we did last night.” I joked.

Mason sends me a wink as he stands up “okay I will go easy on you tonight” he comes back a couple of minutes later with his phone. “what are you doing?” I asked confused. He joins me on the sofa and puts his phone up to us as he is taking a selfie. I quickly hide myself in his chest as I look a mess right now and Mason takes the picture.

“I think its time for the hard launch now” and shows me the picture. It’s a lovely photo, we look settled together and comfortable in eachothers arms. “I love it” I reply. “I love you” Mason replies.

Mason types away on his phone, I get the notification that I have been tagged in a post. Mason posts that picture of us:

You had us all worried there for a minute Y/N/N but I will take the best care of you @your_username. Y/T/N she will be back in no time! 💗💗

[demiromanticmickey]

On today's "I am SO not normal about Dead Friend Forever": Discussing Catholicism and Colonization in this gay Thai slasher series

Some background on me: I am from a Latine Catholic family. Raised as a non-practicing Catholic (we didn't go to church or pray). Then my parents enrolled me in a Catholic school that I attended from 5th grade to the end of 7th grade. Today, I am not Catholic and have never really considered myself as such.

Ok, so in the flashback episodes of DFF, I have been noticing a lot of things. My findings under the cut.

Let's start with this crucifix and photo of the Virgin Mary and a baby Jesus.

Screenshot from ep. 5.

The camera lingers here a bit so we're obviously meant to pay attention to the phrase. I put the screenshot through Google translate's image translator and the translation it gave me was, "Think good, do good, be a good person." I didn't think much of it when I first watched the episode other than it was supposed to establish that the boys attend a Christian or Catholic school.

But then there was this image posted on Be On Cloud's Instagram (also from ep. 5): X

Zooming in, we can see there's another picture of Mary in the background. Watching the classroom scenes, it's easy to miss because the series itself is more washed out than the official photos posted. But this emphasis on Mary led me to believe the school is a Catholic one. So out of curiosity, I looked up the schools the writers and directors attended because I felt I was onto something here. And boy, was I!

Source: MDL

Ma-Deaw, if you didn't know, is one of the directors of Dead Friend Forever (he also directed Manner of Death and Inhuman Kiss , and lots of other things).

One Google search later (X) and I learned "Montfort College" is a Catholic school. It started out as a primary school that later added a secondary school as well.

Now let's take a closer look at some of the details of this school:

First, the school's motto "Labor Conquers All Things". This reminded me of the phone conversation Tee had with his uncle:

On my first watch, this sounded familiar to me but I couldn't really place why. It wasn't until I saw this other Tumblr post (X) that pointed out it's similar to a bible quote from the New Testament. The quote varies a bit depending on which version of the bible you're using but it's along the lines of, "He who does not work, neither shall he eat".

This is meant to discourage "laziness". Nevermind the fact that people deserve to eat simply because we get hungry and need food to survive. The idea that we only "deserve" things based on productivity is an extremely colonial one. — Reminder also that Tee is being forced into this "work" in the first place. He's just a high school kid. I don't need to like his character to understand how fucked up his situation is.

Then there's the patron of the school. St. Louis de Montfort was a French Catholic priest most known for his study in Mariology. What is Mariology (X)? The study of Mary, the mother of Jesus. I didn't know that was a thing but it's unsurprising considering how prominent images of Mary were in my own religious upbringing. And she's what started me down this rabbit hole in the first place. Mary is a big deal to the Catholics. I'm going to be paying even more attention now if more Mary imagery pops up.

The Garden of Eden and Original Sin

Now I want to draw attention to these images:

Screenshots from ep. 7

Here we have Non and Phee biting into an apple as they leisure around this lush green field. We know they've visited this location more than once because they're wearing different outfits in the screenshots. And I think it's important to note that it's Phee holding the apple and offering it to Non.

The use of the word "bait" in the bts of ep. 7 is quite interesting too. (X)

The Garden of Eden was the paradise in which Adam and Eve resided. In this garden, there were many trees to eat from. The one tree Adam and Eve were forbidden by God to eat from was the Tree of Knowledge. A serpent (Satan), first tempted Eve into taking from the tree to eat it's fruit. And then Eve gave the fruit to Adam. That is Original Sin. And because Adam and Eve ate from the Tree of Knowledge, all humans thereafter are born sinful and bad, and can only find salvation through God.

Of course in the scene between Phee and Non, the sin the apple represents is being gay. And it's after this, and after the bracelet scene, that Non becomes involved with Por's film and his tragedy begins.

Zoomed in screenshot from ep. 5

And I wonder if the bracelet scene is the last time Phee and Non visit this forest location. It would parallel how Adam and Eve were cast out of the Garden of Eden once they sinned.

Final Thoughts

You give me a story that criticizes Western religion and how it's used as a tool for oppression and colonization, and I'm gonna eat that shit up. I am gonna eat it up. Every. Single. Time.

I really wasn't expecting anything like this from Dead Friend Forever. This level in attention to detail is unmatched. I don't think I've watched a more well planned out show. And no matter where DFF goes from here, these seven episodes will always hold a special place in my heart. 💗

[rubberbutton]

I am refusing to say anything disparaging about my efforts here, but it is taking all my willpower. Pls clap. Anyway, this is an illustration for the fic below. Javert had the SLP (slutty lil ponytail) for 95% of the drawing process, but I decided to please myself and did the curly hair at the last minute. Also, the fic was originally set at night in the bedroom so the state of dishabille made sense, but less so when I moved it to midafternoon. I was too lazy to add more clothes tho.

Ut Ameris Amabilis Esto - Valvert, rated teen for old man snugglin', no warnings

It was the habit of the old bachelors at Rue de l'Homme Armé, No. 7 to eat the day’s largest meal in the early afternoon.

They’d then take a cold supper at whatever time suited them. Most days, it was their custom to dismiss Mère Chenault, who came in to do the cooking and housework, after she’d prepared lunch. She’d initially resisted this arrangement until it was made clear to her that she’d receive the full day’s wages for a half day’s work. 

She was a proud woman, who’d fallen into bitter poverty after the early death of her husband.With an invalid daughter and six dependent grandchildren to support, she’d been grateful to have found her current place. Her employers were peculiar men who kept themselves to themself, but it was less work for more money than her last position. 

“I may not be a rich woman, but I pride myself on making my own way—I’ve never once had to accept charity,” she said upon meeting Monsieur Fauchelevent. “Save once when the littlest was ill and the doctor wouldn’t see him without upfront payment.”

Mère Chenault didn’t mind the pair’s strange ways. She knew that many men become eccentric in their old age, and bachelors in particular become set in their ways. It was to this tendency that she attributed Monsieur Fauchelevent’s insistence on managing the accounts with the green grocer and the butcher himself. The poor man managed it badly, as often as not ordering quantities which far exceeded the pair’s meager needs. When pressed, he equivocated: he felt terribly hungry when he placed the order only to find his appetite quite deserted him when the meal was before him. The resulting surplus was sent home with Mère Chenault as it would go to waste otherwise, and Monsieur Fauchelevent considered waste a grave sin. 

The second bachelor under her supervision, a Monsieur Javert, was likewise odd. Though a robust man who appeared to her eyes hale and healthy, he claimed to have a delicate and changeable constitution—a dish which agreed with him last week would turn on him this week and he could no longer abide it. Again, Mère Chenault was obliged to take the excess to prevent it being wasted. 

She gently chided Monsieur Fauchelevent for his excess and made a consommé for Monsieur Javert’s weak stomach. 

— 

“That woman is an idiot,” Javert said, looking out the window onto the street below, where Mère Chenault had just stepped out. Today she had such a bounty a boy had been hired to help her carry it home. “No, don’t chide me. Your expression is rebuke enough.” 

“Mère Chenault is a good and honest woman,” Valjean replied, then allowed, “It is to our advantage if she does not possess an inquiring mind.” 

Jean Valjean was seated at the escritoire, a stack of letters, mostly charitable solicitations, beside him. It was late afternoon in early summer before the heat had settled over the city, and the breeze coming in through the window was exceedingly pleasant.

Javert took a seat in his usual armchair, opening a book of poetry. He despised poetry. He felt it was a discipline without purpose and poets were notorious for their dissipation, besides—but the book had been a gift for his edification. He read silently, occasionally grimacing or snorting to telegraph his contempt. If he found a line particularly execrable, he read it aloud. Very, very occasionally he read a line or two which he found almost tolerable. In these instances, Valjean hummed and asked him what he thought about it.  

After some moments since Javert’s last recitation, Valjean said, “I had a letter from Cosette today.”

Javert made a noncommittal noise and turned a page. He was a picture of complete disinterest, but perhaps his fingers had tightened on the pages when the name Cosette was mentioned. 

“They’ve had an easy journey. They mean to return in a fortnight,” Valjean offered. Javert didn’t acknowledge this intelligence at all. “She asked after your health.”

“Did she?” Javert drawled, finally looking up. “She’ll be disappointed to hear that I am quite well.” 

“Cosette doesn’t wish you ill,” Valjean said and frowned.

Javert set his book aside. “Perhaps not, but I doubt hearing news I’ve taken terribly ill and am not expected to live out the night would grieve her.” Javert waved his hand to forestall further protest from Valjean. “I don’t begrudge her. She has every right to hate me.”

It was an old argument. 

Valjean held up the letter. “She cannot hate you too much. She’s invited you to dinner.”

“Unlikely,” Javert replied, sourly.

“She has—come and read it for yourself.”

Javert rose and came to lean over Valjean’s shoulder, his eyes narrowed as he pored over the missive. “What date does she propose?”

“Well, she hasn’t given a date quite yet,” Valjean hedged. “But it says right here: I trust Monsieur Javert is well. I hope that he will be available to join us for dinner once we’re back in the city.” 

“Bah.” Javert’s lip curled. “It’s not an invitation if it doesn’t include a date.”

“It’s reasonable for her to wait until they’re settled after their travels,” Valjean said, brow furrowed. “Cosette is always sincere. See, she continues, if Monsieur Javert has any particular tastes or appetites—”

“—If she only knew—” Javert interjected with a hint of tooth. 

Valjean hushed him, though the corner of his mouth quirked upwards. “—Be sure to share them and I will make sure to consider them in planning the menu.” He set the letter down. “It’s not in her nature to hold a grudge. She’ll warm to you.” 

“How could she not? Everyone adores my amiable nature and good humor.”

 “You are quite capable of being amiable. You have even, on occasion, been good humored.” Valjean put his hand on Javert’s where it lay on the table. “Perhaps this might be an opportunity to demonstrate it.” 

Javert hesitated. “If I fail, the stakes are high.”

“God gives second chances.” 

“Yes, but does your daughter?” 

“Of course—you’re already on your third or fourth.” 

Javert did not smile at the joke and pulled his hand out from under Valjean’s. He straightened and gave Valjean his back, which he tended to do when he felt harassed. He took his seat again and buried his large nose in the book of poetry. Uncertain, Valjean laid out a new piece of paper and picked up up his pen. He made it no further than the salutation and a few initial pleasantries, however, before he set the pen back down.  

“I don’t have to answer her at the present moment.”

“She’ll worry if you don’t answer soon.”

“I don’t have to indicate that you’d accept an invitation.”

“She’d understand from the omission that I am rebuffing her overture.” 

Valjean arranged the ink pot and pouncet-box on the desk, then straightened the piles of waiting letters so their edges were all aligned. “Are you?”

There was a long silence. “I find myself between the praecipitium and the lupi.”

“Ah,” Valjean said. He wanted to sigh but fought the impulse. 

“If I decline, you’re disappointed. If I accept, I’ll surely blunder or offer your daughter some insult. You hope that your daughter and I will come to some mutual understanding or, more foolishly still, affection. She’s right to be wary of me. For what I was, for what I have done, and for the blight in my soul. You are are closer to saint than any other man living and are thus able to endure my person, but you go too far in expecting your daughter to do the same. Even if she were to entirely forgive the harm I did her mother, that I have done to you, she would be right to abhor me. Men may endure me but no one has ever liked me.” He pronounced all this with a cold and brittle certitude. It was not self-pity—or not primarily self-pity—but a judgement handed down by God. 

 Valjean indulged himself and sighed heavily. “So you decline the invitation?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“So you accept the invitation?”

“I didn’t say that either.”

“There’s no hurry. Think about it and let me know once you’ve made a decision?” 

Javert held the book of poetry, but it could not be said that he was reading it, as his gaze did not travel along each line but remained fixed and unchanging. Valjean addressed the most pressing of the other correspondence: orphans, widows, homeless veterans. There were still more waiting for his attention, but he hesitated and glanced at Javert, who could have been made of stone for all that he moved. 

“I’ll leave the rest of these for the morning, I think,” Valjean said and set his pen down. Javert didn’t mark him. Valjean rose and walked to stand before him, still Javert refused to meet his eyes. Valjean plucked the book from Javert’s hands, ignoring the noise of protest. 

“If you mean to further belabor the issue—” Javert started coldly.

“I don’t intend to talk.” Valjean caught Javert’s wrists and pulled him to his feet. Javert tried to free himself but was no more able to resist than a mouse in the cat’s claws. Valjean bent over, set his shoulder to Javert’s middle and hoisted him up like a sack of flour. 

“Damn you,” Javert said, as he was born out of the study, down the hall and into the bedroom. Valjean tossed him onto the bed, which creaked like a ship in a storm as it shuddered under Javert’s sudden weight. He started to rise, but Valjean held up his hand, palm out to halt him. 

“You stay,” he said, his voice was low, calm, almost pleasant. 

Javert stayed, though whether it was capitulation or merely the knowledge that he would only embarrass himself in a physical contest was uncertain. 

“Have you lost your mind, old man?” he said, eyes narrow and intense. 

“Goad me as much as you like,” Valjean said, mildly. “Does it help?”

“A little,” Javert allowed. Valjean climbed onto the bed, Javert watching with both deep suspicion and an avid interest. 

“Roll over,” Valjean said. 

“It’s four o’clock in the afternoon,” Javert said, scandalized, even as he complied. 

Valjean laughed. “Save your blushes. That’s not what I’m after.” He sidled up to Javert and lay down next to him, propping himself up on an elbow. He lay a hand on the back of Javert’s neck, petting the curls that lay along his nape,, then began to stroke lightly to the base of his spine and back again. Valjean pillowed his head on Javert’s shoulder. He was tall and broad man and well muscled. Still he maintained his sharp edges and the shoulder blade under Valjean’s cheek was boney. 

Javert sighed the large intake of breath lifting Valjean like a bellows. The small of Javert’s back was damp with sweat. Valjean plucked at the linen to pull it away from the skin, then kept tugging, pulling the shirttails from the waist of his trousers. Javert shivered as Valjean’s hand slipped under the shirt’s hem and found skin. Valjean let his hand wander, though no lower than Javert’s waist band, though the temptation was strong. He could hear Javert’s heartbeat under his ear. It had been clamorous and rapid, but now slowed, grew calmer. 

He waited until it had slowed further still and stayed that way to say, “When she was little, Cosette loved me as a child loves a parent. It does not matter whether the parent is worthy of that love, the child cannot help but feel the attachment strongly. Now she is a woman grown and she retains love for me still. It does not burn as brightly as once it did. And why should it? It is right that her greatest affection is for her husband.” Javert didn’t respond; his heartbeat remained steady. “I have no other family. I have no friends. I’ve had no lovers, save you.” 

“Let me roll over—my neck is complaining,” Javert grumbled.“I suppose you mean now to draw some parallel between our situations.”

“Something of that nature.” Valjean sat up enough for Javert to roll onto his back and waited until he was settled. “I don’t have prepared remarks.”

“You are genial, kind and good natured. But you have kept any who would seek a greater connection with you at arm’s length. I have seen how you turn aside every invitation with polite demurral. Perhaps a necessity given your circumstances, but certainly your choice.”

“I have not always been genial, as you well remember,” Valjean said wryly. “You have also made the choice to keep others from extending the offer of friendship. You have a ferocious scowl—yes, that’s the one—and harsh words for nearly everyone. Perhaps if you’d like to be liked, you might consider being, well,  likable.”

Javert growled low in his chest. 

“Or not,” Valjean said. “As you prefer.”

Javert rolled to his side, pressing against Valjean, and buried his face in Valjean’s neck. Valjean cradled the back of his head with a hand. 

“I’ll go,” Javert said into the tender skin below Valjean’s ear. “I do my utmost to be, ugh, amiable.” The words sounded as though they’d been extracted from him under great duress. 

“Thank you,” Valjean said. “I’m sure you’ll succeed. After all, I find you amiable.” He shifted  enough to capture Javert’s mouth with his own. “Very amiable indeed.”

Fin. 

[sentientfunfetti]

What if reader gave dollhouse!Wally a cute little box with a clay heart inside it? Like, "here's my heart, for you" kinda thing.

“giving you my heart” a dollhouse! wally/reader drabble

(dollhouse!wally and his au belongs to @/itskorrychang on twitter! go support them!)

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED!

-

-

it had been a few weeks since you and wally had been seeing each other. time seemed to move a bit slower in the neighborhood, but you associated that with the bliss of being utterly comfortable where you were. when you had moved to the neighborhood, you were off-put by how quiet it was. from what you were told it was a bustling community full of games, jokes being told, pies and other baked good being baked and other types of fun…

but, when you arrived it was quiet. too quiet. it was unnerving say the least.

then you met the only resident. wally darling. as eerie as he was there was always a level of endearment to it. wally seemed harmless, just a tad socially inept. on your first day he invited you over for tea in his home, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the rows after rows of dolls he had.

“oh…those? i made them myself…”

he said it as if it wasn’t a big deal. his level of craftsmanship wasn’t lost on even you, who had no idea how to make anything like that. they were so pretty…and he seemed to appreciate your enthusiasm and compliments, even going as far as to make one of you. most people would have found that creepy…especially with how many details of you he had captures on such a small base, even going as far as to point out his favorite ones.

least to say, you were swooned. head over heels for him, and you wanted to show your appreciation for both his hospitality and for you to express you feelings for him. your crafting skills were…limited least to say. the only thing you could wrap your head around besides from drawing was clay, and so you spent all night making a heart shaped…object…for wally, even going out to find a cute box to paint over for the heart shaped ‘thing’ to be held in.

looking down at the box in your hands as you make your trek to wally’s house, you couldn’t help but feel a bit anxious about how he’d feel about it. there was no doubt about it; wally’s skill level was leaps and bounds above your’s, so that left one question: would he even accept your gift? you could only hope not.

…you weren’t even able to get your fingerprints off of it like most people are able to.

pushing all of that aside, you were already at his doorstep seemingly within a blink of an eye, and now all there was to do was knock. you lifted your arm up stiffly and knocked.

“coming.” he announced through the door, and you heard his footsteps approaching. you jumped when he opened the door, his usual lax smile on his face. you quickly hid his present behind your back without thinking. “ah, neighbor. you’re a bit early today…” you smile the best smile you could muster and giggled. “well, i wanted to come and see you early this time! i hope that’s okay…” you watch his lazy grin grow and your face warms. despite you at first being apprehensive to him, you quickly found out that he was just as kind as any other person.

“oh, neighbor. you know that my doors are always open. all you need to do is call or knock and if i’m able, and available, then you’re always welcome…” he responded lowly, standing in his doorway. his words were sweet, but they did nothing to soothe your already growing anxiety. it bubbled up in you just like before. “…thank you, wally…i really appreciate that.”

he responded with a nod, before stepping aside and motioning for you to come in. “anything for you, lovely.”

the pet name made your heart swell, as you stepped inside, making sure to angle yourself so that he wouldn’t be able to see the box you had in your hands. you hear the door click closed, the lock following. he turned to you with an eyebrow raised. “…neighbor…” he put a hand on his face, amused with the fact you were so obviously hiding something behind your back. “what’s that you’ve got there…?” he inquired, pointing, and you felt yourself shrink, your eyes shifting to the floor.

“o-oh…well…uhm…” his gaze was intense now. he was looking for your answer in your body language due to the now lack of eye contact between the both of you. “yes, precious?” he urged you to continue, leaning down a tad to be eye level with you. your eyes were glued to the floor, however. after a bit of silence, you suck in a breath and tap your foot on the floorboards underneath your feet. you stay silent for a moment, the only thing filling the silence is the sound of wally’s large grandfather clock ticking away every second you weren’t speaking. “i…i uhm…made you something…” you finally mumbled under your breath, your eyes flicking up to him for a moment.

“what was that, dear? i couldn’t quite hear you. you were mumbling.” you couldn’t tell if wally was teasing you or being serious. he did have a tendency to do that accidentally…only occasionally doing it on purpose when he realized what he said had affected you. he stood back to his original height and waited for your response, his intense gaze still on you, making you feel just a bit smaller than usual. you repeat yourself, a bit louder. “i made you something, wally.”

“is that so?” his smile widened, and he outstretched his arms. “can i see what you’ve made me? if you made it i’m sure it’s lovely.” you shake your head, and take a step back, chewing on your bottom lip. eyes back on the floor. “it’s not that good, really. it’s really not as good as the stuff you make so…”

“…so…what, precious…?” there was a dangerous edge to his voice you couldn’t quite place a finger on. you knew he probably didn’t mean for it to startle you, but you felt yourself shrink into yourself just a bit more at it. wally seemed to notice, and you watched his shoulders lax. he quickly corrects. you forget that he had an edge to him at times. that’s what being alone for so long will do to people, you think.

“it’s alright. really. i’m sure whatever you’ve made me is just as nice as you are. as nice as you have been.”

you look up and into at his red orbs and let out a bitter chuckle. “you’re only saying that because you’re curious.” you respond, raising an eyebrow at him. he shrugs off your accusation with the same smile as before. “can you blame me? my favorite neighbor—“ only neighbor. you don’t correct. you don’t dare. “— visits me with a gift, and now doesn’t want me to see it? who wouldn’t be curious?” dammit. he had a good point. you were stumped, and running out of energy to fight, so with a sigh you revealed the small box from behind your back. your face burned as soon as you saw wally’s eyes train on the small box in your hands. he hummed, before taking it away from you, your arms falling limply to your sides as you counted away the seconds until doomsday.

…okay…maybe doomsday was a bit overdramatic…but if he didn’t like it you would most definitely be thinking about that for the next few weeks. definitely. you mentally crossed your fingers, and let out a weak ‘surprise’ as you watched him open the box, his intense gaze fixing onto the smaller object inside.

he was silent. dead silent. so silent in fact that you were sure you didn’t even see him take another breath in. his chest stopped rising and falling as his intense gaze softened for a moment. “…see? i told you it wasn’t as good as the stuff you make—“ your hand clamps around your forearm for comfort as your shift.

“gods, i’m sorry wally—“

“…oh…neighbor it’s…this is…!” he looked up at you from the box in his hands with glazed over eyes. tears threatening to spill. he looked back down and plucked the small heart shaped clay piece out of the confines of the box and let out a shaky breath. “…it’s…it’s perfect…” he moved over to the table next to the front door and deposited the box in order to hold the heart in the palms of his hands, as if it was the most precious gem. as if it was made of glass and one drop would threaten to break it. you stood there…confused…almost shocked.

“…it is…? i mean i just like—“ you immediately begin to backpedal. you had never seen wally so passionate before except a few times, so this was almost scary. you weren’t even able to get your fingerprints off the damn thing, much less make the shape look uniform.

“yes. yes. it’s…it’s so cute…and…you made it for me? did you really, neighbor…?” wally asked, looking at you with a warm smile. “it’s wonderful. thank you. you even put my initials on it…” he outstretched a palm and pointed to the small detail, utterly infatuated. sometimes you forgot his eye for small details. you felt like a ant under a magnifying glass. studied.

you laugh and blush, rubbing the back of your neck. “oh…well. ya know…didn’t want it to get lost…!” at that, wally let out a warm chuckle, and a sniffle, regaining his composure as he continued on. “well, i assure you neighbor, the detail is appreciated…and i won’t be losing this anytime soon.” he took a step closer.

“…no…in fact…i’ll be keeping it close. as close as i can…” his voice was hushed, his grin wide and his eyes narrowing with it. you swallow thickly, face red. was he talking about you…or the gift? stars, which one was less likely to make you explode? “i’m…i’m glad.” was all you were able to muster out. wally didn’t miss a beat, however, leaning a bit again to catch your gaze, gift still in his hands. his hand went to cup your cheek, and you swore you could see a glint in his eye. “why are you so red, precious? aren’t i supposed to be the flustered one here?” his thumb stroked your cheek. yep. he was definitely doing it on purpose this time. you huff and put your hands on your hips. “listen here, if this is how you’re gonna react every time i give you a gift, this may be your last one, buster.” you turn your back to him and begin to walk towards the dining room to have a seat, pulling away from his touch, but the ghost of it was still there.

“precious.”

he called out, and you turned to see him now holding the heart in-between his thumb and forefinger to where you could see it; a mischievous glint in his red eyes. you shuddered and narrowed your eyes at him. “…what…?” you spat playfully.

“…was this you giving me your heart?”

author’s note ⊹˚. ♡

thank you for the request, neighbor! it was such a sweet one. i really enjoyed writing this one.

i also have a few things to go over, actually:

firstly, i’d like to thank you all for the requests and the likes and the follows! i’m really surprised i’ve been getting the attention i’ve been getting. thank you all for that.

secondly, i’d like to ask for a few things if that’s alright.

1) reblogs. self explanatory. likes don’t really do anything for me traction-wise as you may or may not know and i’d like for more people to be able to see my things!

2) can you all pretty please be more specific with the things you’d like for me to write? if you just send me a prompt and not specifically state that you’d like headcanons, or a drabble then i have no idea what you’d like.

3) more feedback. i want to grow as an author so criticism is of course encouraged and welcomed.

besides from that, ill be working on my reboot wally fanfiction over on ao3 and the requests i have lined up for me at the moment. thank you guys for the support. it means a bunch./gen

[stargazing15]

Dad's shirt

Jake x wife reader & daughter

Summary: it was Jake's third father's day and your daughter really loves the gift.

A/N: For those who voted for dad Jake, here you go! I didn't give the reader and Jake's daughter a name, I couldn't decide on a good one

Enjoy!

***

"Daddy is going to be home soon, you know what to say to daddy, sweetheart?" You asked you daughter.

"Yes mommy, how long? Not wait!" She still tried to use as less words as possible, a little stubbornness or laziness -you still hadn't figured out which one it was- but most certainly inherent from her father.

"It is I cannot wait, sweetie. I don't know, depends on daddy's boss and if daddy's plane has been nice today. Less than an hour. Okay?" Jake had texted you he was on way right before he left.

"Befo sleep?"

"Before. Of course, he will be here before sleeptime." The moment you said your last words, keys opened the front door.

"DADDY!" And off she was to the hallway.

"Hello little munchkin. You have been good to mommy?"

"The best!" You heard her say proudly.

"Come, come, come." Jake got pulled inside by your much smaller daughter, but with a big and excited smile on her face. Not matter how bad Jake's day might have been, she made sure it was always ending good. Younger Jake never thought he wanted this, but coming home to his loved ones was all he needed to be happy, the medals or mission successes weren't the peak of his happiness anymore.

"Hi baby." Jake gave you a quick peck on the lips.

"Hi sweetest daddy of our wonderful princess."

"Daddy, no looking, I have surprise. And mommy too! Come mommy. No cheating daddy!" Jake had closed his eyes and placed his hand in front of them.

"Look no cheating little munchkin, my eyes are closed. But I can't wait to see your surprise." He encouraged him/her.

"Come mommy." The two of you grabbed the neatly wrapped gift and made your way back to Jake to deliver the gift.

"Okay babe, keep your eyes closed and place your hands in front of you. And you here, stop jumping around for a second, you are going to trip over your own feet."

"No babe, DADDY." You and Jake giggled at her comment while you were laying the gift in his hands.

"Yes yes sweetie, daddy open up your eyes." Jake opened up his eyes and tried his best for the three year old to look as surprised as possible.

"HAPPY DADDY DAY!" She screamed as loud as she possibly could, poor neighbors, and started to jump up and down again. "Open, open!"

"I think you are the one who is most excited, will you help daddy?"

"Yes." Not even a second after Jake's answer she dragged his arm down to her level so she could help. Jake carefully removed the ribbon so your little girl could start destroying the wrapping paper.

Once the paper was removed the excited little one became even more excited, yes that was possible.

"DADDY DADDY LOOK!" Jake got a drawing smacked in his face by a very proud toddler. This made Jake burst out in laughing. The little ball of joy always managed to do something that put a smile on your faces.

"Wow little munchkin, did you make this?"

"YES, by myself!"

"It is really beautiful, I guess this here is mommy and there are you and this is me with my plane?"

"Yes!"

Jake now took the gift in his hand and unfolded it. It was a white t-shirt with the black text 'I'm the coolest dad' on it. In the O's were replaced by emoji's with aviators on. "I'll wear this proudly, who made the choice?"

"Me!" Your daughter said while raising her hand up.

"She has good taste. Clearly from me."

"Dork." You whispered with a smirk.

And then instead of trying it on himself, Jake took the shirt and put it over your daughter's head and lowered it down her little body, until it hit the ground. "It fits you perfectly little munchkin." Loving the the compliment, she kissed her daddy on the cheek and gave him a big hug.

"Mommy, LOOK!"

"Wow sweetie, is that a dress?"

"Noooo, daddy's shirt!" She mocked you, like you just asked her the dumbest question ever. Being miss smarty-pants, was definitely one of the other things she inherited from Jake.

"Come on you two, photoshoot. Let's go outside, the sun is shining. Mom and dad will be there in a second. Can you search for a nice spot?" She immediately ran off to search the sport in the garden.

"Well, beautiful mommy, thank you for the wonderful gift, although I think she might wear it more often than me." Jake said to you while wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling his nose in your neck. "I missed you today, I always miss you."

"Missed you too." Jake pulled you in for a kiss and deepened the kiss immediately. God you missed this one-on-one time.

"EEEWWWW, gross!" Your princess stood in the door with her small hands on her hips, being a little toddler-boss. "Photo!"

"Okay, okay, we're coming."

Taglist: @mrsjaderogers @cycbaby @bradleybeachbabe @mavrellover91 @iamdannyday @rhirhikingston @luckyladycreator2 @xoxabs88xox @angelbabyange @jstarr86 @dempy

[blueflareblitz0]

I think I made an account with my school email long ago, completely forgot about it, and then finally made a new one today since I forgot that tumbler exists. XD

So, allow me to re-introduce myself to this website~!

I’m BlueFlareBlitz (been too lazy to change my username since middle school) and I make art stuff!

Here’s a whole-ass dump of shit I’ve made as from 1-2 years ago ‘cause I think that’s a good starting point! XD

(I’ll post a couple other dumps until I’m able to present whatever drawing I’m working on atm).

[ryuichirou]

Replies

One reply + suddenly a hc list today! About the animals.

Anonymous asked:

Normally I rather dislike ace and duece as a couple but something about your art makes it ok... or at least more so than normal

lol thank you Anon!

I’m glad the way I draw them makes it more appealing to you.

thestarlightfae asked:

If the twst cast were animals, which animals do you think they would be?

Hehe, I’m coming back to your last question!

I feel like we talked about similar topics every now and then, so for this post to not sound very repetitive I thought that I’m going to make it more difficult for myself and actually give everyone a couple of animals. I also tried not to be too obvious, but I’m not going to not call the Leeches eels…

Also there is no equality there, some guys have more animals than others :( Sorry!!

Riddle –  a hedgehog, a mouse, a house finch… he just feels like a loud little bird sometimes lol He’s small but he could bite or prick or peck you. Of course, he is also a goldfishie..!

Ace – a fox, a red panda, a red cat. Always getting in trouble, but still pretty independent and sly, but also ekekek’ing happily when fed and spoiled. Capricious but also an idiot.

Deuce – a jack rabbit, a dog (a mutt), a rat… I don’t know he just feels like someone who could be a great and dear friend if you let him into your life <3 He is a little bit wild, but also easily tamable.

Cater – a ferret, a parrot (not sure which one), a husky-golden retriever mix. Kind of obnoxious and loud at times, but so incredibly magicammable! At the first glance at least, but he really needs an owner that understands him.

Trey – a bear, a badger, a turtle. Once again, Floyd’s nickname feels like it works perfectly for how chill he is… but he could still somewhat dangerous, even if he looks cute and cuddly.

Leona – a lion (shocking), a maine coon (is this cheating?), a panda. I don’t know man, he’s just here to relax, even if it bites him in the ass sometimes… but maine coons are supposed to be good hunters, so!

Ruggie – a hyena, a magpie, a raccoon. One man’s trash is another man’s treasure – he is excellent at finding stuff that he wants and taking it without anyone noticing.

Jack – a wolf, a kangaroo, an irbis.  Sorry, he is such a pup it’s very difficult to think about anything else, but… don’t provoke this guy!! He’ll fuck you up!

Azul – an octopus, a Turkish angora cat, a ram. Very careful and anxious, but also gracious and smart… and super stubborn and scary when angry!!! Also, angoras love to swim! And have the most gorgeous blue eyes.

Jade – an eel, a scorpion... But I also want to acknowledge dolphins because of…certain shenanigans that they do… anyways, this one is a huge DANGER sign. Anything venomous feels pretty much like him.

Floyd – an eel, a shark, a husky-wolf mix. Once again, the first two are pretty obvious, but he is also a wild fluffy beast running around and yelling… when he feels like it. When he doesn’t, he is super lazy and gets very angry when bothered.

Kalim – a mongoose, a puppy (can’t even give you a breed, just a puppy, something super expensive though), a parakeet parrot. A mongoose is just too ironic not to pick, but he is also super friendly, excited and sociable! And colourful, of course. Always the center of all the attention.

Jamil – a snake (viper/cobra), a chameleon and a caracal cat. Once again, cautious, independent, ready to attack but very sneaky about it. Also very gorgeous looking, it’s difficult to look away even if you know it’s dangerous…

Vil – a peacock, a show dog with tons of medals and awards, a horse. Speaking of gorgeous… Truly a magnificent creature that knows his own worth. Perfectly fit, perfectly pampered and groomed, but also has quite the temper.

Rook – an eagle, a fox, a hound. I feel like it describes Rook pretty much perfectly… An excellent hunter, but also there is something so sneaky about him. But then you look at him and see someone who is very friendly and open-minded, just like a dog! Weirdo…

Epel – a bunny, a chinchilla, a Pomeranian. He would be so mad, but let’s be honest, am I wrong? The last one especially feels like a no-brainer to me: so small and oh so fierce.

Idia – a skittish cat, an anxious borzoi dog, a fallow deer. Somehow both a loner and enjoyer of good company… he is cute and long and kind of both gracious and clumsy at the same time.

Ortho – a dog (Cerberus!), a clione (sorry it’s too cute Floyd is right again), a tiger cub. The last one is probably kind of sudden, maybe I should’ve went with something flying instead, but he does feel like a little pouncing hunter sometimes…

Lilia – a bat, a sugar glider, a shrike. Small, adorable, but oh god how fucking deadly. The more I think about it, the more I think of how much of a shrike he is…

Silver – a jackalope, a unicorn, a hippogriff. All fictional animals because he is just that otherworldly lol Probably isn’t fair to everyone else, so I’ll make it even more unfair and give him three normal animals: a swan, a hare, a deer.

Sebek – a crocodile, a bull, a dog (Doberman or Rottweiler?). He is a such well-disciplined dog, but also stubborn and kind of easy to provoke. Still, he is such a pup sometimes.

Malleus – a monitor lizard, a crow, a panther. The first two are pretty explanatory, but I just couldn’t resist the last one – had to give him a big gorgeous black kitty.

[chaotictakea]

Fake emergency

characters: aged up!atsumu miya, aged up!kiyoomi sakusa and male reader content: poly relationship, established relationship, reader is a workaholic synopsis: Atsumu and Kiyoomi have to fake an emergency for their S/o to actually come back home words count: 998 words author's note: it's my first time really writting in english so for the one's who will read this, even if I proofread it the best I can, if you can please correct my mistakes so I can improve myself. characters: aged up!atsumu miya, aged up!kiyoomi sakusa and male reader content: poly relationship, established relationship, reader is a workaholic synopsis: Atsumu and Kiyoomi have to fake an emergency for their S/o to actually come back home words count: 998 words author's note: it's my first time really writting in english so for the one's who will read this, even if I proofread it the best I can, if you can please correct my mistakes so I can improve myself.

Atsumu and Kiyoomi are two well-known volleyball players, they earn a lot of money each month.

With all that money that they own they want to spoil their s/o till death. Unfortunately for them they fell hard for a workaholic that rarely accepted unplanned or too expensive gifts and drowned himself into work.

Tonight Y/n normally should have come back home around midnight or even one in the morning, but he almost having an accident as he tried to go back home as soon as possible when it was only 8 pm. Only because of Kiyoomi's panicked voice on the phone just a few minutes ago.

. . .

" Guys I'm back home !" Y/n shouted as he entered in their shared house. He barely had the time to get rid of his shoes that he was already running towards the kitchen, the only place from where he could hear sounds.

He was already preparing himself for a disaster, or even worse, because of the panic he had distinguished in Kiyoomi's voice during their short call where Kiyoomi urged Taruo to come home earlier today.

What actually happened ? Atsumu had an accident again ? Someone set something on fire ? All these worries seemed to navigate through his brain for an endless time, when in reality only a couple of seconds separated his arrival at home and his presence in the kitchen.

A…perfectly normal kitchen, just like everyday. Y/n didn't have the time to react properly that Atsumu was already welcoming him with a sweet kiss and his hands wrapped around his waist.

He frowned in confusion, why was everything so normal ? With his brows furrowed he let Atsumu drag him to the sink so that he could wash his hands.

After his hands were clean Kiyoomi gave him a kiss on the cheek while he was cutting some fruits. No one was taking the time to explain to him what was happening right now as Atsumu happily made him sit on a nearby chair.

" So… there's no emergency ?" Y/n asked hesitantly as Atsumu was drawing small patterns on his hips with his fingers, he couldn't believe that his boyfriends made him quit his job earlier than he wanted for nothing.

" No emergency ? Of course there was an emergency. You weren't at home yet." Kiyoomi said a tad of condescendence which earned him a light punch from Y/n.

" It's not an emergency at all." The shorter man replied flabbergasted by his boyfriends trick as he was sandwiched between the taller men. But he didn't search to argue further about it. For a moment no one was talking everyone was enjoying eachother warmth, because even if Y/n was a tad upset beeing in his lovers arms was delightful.

" It's an emergency." Kiyoomi answered back as he sat in front of his boyfriends, Atsumu standing behing Y/n with his arms still wrapped around him.

" You don't have to work this much, we're here !" Atsumu complained hugging Y/n tighter in his arms. Which only made Y/n roll his eyes as he didn't want to acknowledge Atsumu's point.

Of course having two boyfriends that were successful in the world of sport didn't allow him to really worry about money. But, in his eyes, it wasn't a reason to get lazy with job, even when his relation with his work was all but healthy.

" I always worked like this." Y/n said, trying to justify his unhealthy amount of work time. " And no one is dead because of it."

Atsumu pinched him to make him shut up as his face was burried comfortably against Y/n's neck, spreading endless kisses on it. " Shh.. Don't try to find an excuse." the blond cooed as one of his hands was squeezing Y/n's left thigh.

Despite Atsumu's words Y/n was preparing himself to say something else, found himself silenced by Kiyoomi's kiss. " What about some vacations ?" the ravenette proposed as his fingers moved towards Y/n's face. The short boy shivered slightly as Kiyoomi's cold fingertips touched his face with an undeniable carefulness.

" Great idea !" Atsumu agreed as he finally stopped the kisses on Y/n's neck only to let Kiyoomi kiss his forehead. " Y/n where do you want to go right now ?" The blond asked with a sweet smile adorning his face.

Y/n raised his head for his eyes to meet the setter's one who still had his pretty smile on his face. He was surprised with the question before suspisciously asking: " When are we supposed to leave ?" He wanted to know that before answering Atsumu's question.

His sudden question made the two volleyball players think for a bit before they look at eachother in the eyes and nod simultaneously. " After tomorrow of course." They said together.

They didn't let Y/n the time to protest or even to be stunned by the upcoming travel that Atsumu felt the need to add something. " And you take your vacation right now." he ordered, silencing Y/n's protest with a kiss.

" If your boss tries to decline your vacations then just leave." Kiyoomi suggested while grabbing the bowl full of fruit he had cut beforehand. " He owes you too much vacations anyway." He added as his firm voice didn't let Y/n any other choice than to accept his suggestion.

They were right anyways. It has been a long time since Y/n actually took vacations. Some days of vacations with his two loving and caring boyfriends won't hurt him.

" And, of course, you'll leave your money at home." Atsumu cooed in Y/n's ear, he didn't want his stubborn boyfriend to pay for a single thing during his well-derserved vacation. But Y/n only snickered at Atsumu's proposition, who sounded more than ridiculous in his ears.

" In your dreams." He said while letting Kiyoomi feed him his fruit salad. Atsumu sighed, forgetting about his proposition as he understood it was pointless to try to convince him. He wanted to spoil his hard working boyfriend and he will.

He will just hide Y/n's wallet and black card.

But Y/n doesn't need to know about his plan.

[mooechi]

..hey there y'all 😁

so it's been approx. a day since I found out exams have been moved to next week, and I may or may not have ended up dramatically sulking thus resulting in being inactive bcuz I prepared for nothing LMFAAOOOO

but then again, I couldn't find myself gathering the time to open tumblr at all tbh. this week's been a tough one, w all the bombarding of events and all

anyways, I fortunately had enough spare time today to add in a few drawings to make up for my loss (LOL) , and yes, that includes that lazy ass scrap above.

even though I'm most likely gonna be inactive for a little further while, I'd still like to thank my good ol' childhood bestie for taking me out of my whiny slacking shell even temporarily. that mfs definitely gonna reblog this again, so you'll know what I mean.

so first and foremost-- since I've gotten addicted to fbje all the more lately, I stumbled upon a very pretty artwork within the manga. it's official, and I wondered how it'd fare if I were to implement it in terms of demon slayer's gaiden artstyle.

here's how it turned out!

it's not the best, I think I ended up making her look fierce..I honestly wanted to give it komorebi--dappled sunlight, if you will--but my brush ended up not being as compatible with the chosen style of gaiden so...yeah, I ditched that and went for this idea instead!

moreover, I was pleasantly surprised to see the amount of notifs I've missed. I'm so sorry that I've just seen it, but I'm glad that I now did..@muitsuri , WHAT HAVE U BEEN UP TO⁉️⁉️..I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THE ANTICS UVE DONE- FEEDING THE EVAKARI NATION⁉️⁉️ HELL YEA!!

I express my sincerest of gratitude's to all the appreciation too, thank you all so much! 💕

hence, I've done a lil smth...

I'm never designing wooden walls again cuz wtf did I do

remember that one idea where they snuggle (smth like that) back then? YEPPP finally got the motivation to bring that to life..somewhat.

you see, this was supposed to be in manga style..so imagine the truck that hit me when my dumbass finally noticed that I've been using THE WRONG BRUSH THIS WHOLE TIME

ofc, ended up questioning my life choices at that point. but hey, since it was late alr and I unfortunately couldn't afford to go back anymore, I forced through it 💪

well, that'd be all for now! I'm gonna go get some rest now--though not b4 I catch up to the updates 😘

i am not entirely satisfied yet displeased with the end product of all this..

I used fbje as reference, both anime and manga.

still, please refrain from stealing. you can take inspo tho!

[quibbs126]

I started making this Tuesday and finished today

I’m not entirely sure what my intention originally was, I think I might have been attempting to draw various Ratchets. Or just g1 Ratchet, but then I realized I made him too small to just post him alone

I got myself some references for g1, I think his IDW self (they were on the same page), Cyberverse, Animated and Prime. So I might have been trying to draw all of them, but I’m not sure

But yeah, I drew g1 Ratchet, and then I decided to draw Cyberverse him, because he had a neat design

For my first attempt at the style, I don’t think it turned out horrible? Not the best though, and I especially need to work on the arm joints

Also none of them have hands because I was too lazy to give them any. So just ignore the lack of hands

Anyways, so after that (but also on Tuesday, I just finished the lineart and colors today) I think I was trying to combine features to get a Ratchet design I’d like to draw. It was mostly these two for inspiration, but there was also a bit of the IDW design I took as well. But also it’s mostly in the head, I didn’t care much about the rest of it

I don’t think I intended to use the CV eye lines, but I wanted something and just ended up doing that. Might change them later. I also gave him the big eyebrows because I thought it suited him. Grumpy old man

I gave him the antenna because I thought he’d have one. Like he needs to keep the radio on in case anyone needs his assistance (and he’s surrounded by idiots)

I gave him circles and the simple chevron because it’s just easier for me to draw and I’m lazy

I gave him the sirens from CV because I liked them. I also gave him the thing in the back because it looks like a backpack and I like that on him, I like to read it as a pack with his medical stuff, even if it probably isn’t

But on to colors, I do wish I could have more red, but admittedly there isn’t much else to put it in the little I drew. So fair enough

But also, I didn’t want to give him the red chevron. That’s like, the common chevron color, and I like how he didn’t follow that in his g1 design, being grey instead. But the grey isn’t in much else of his colors, and the red would be more consistent. And also, I like the white with red accents, it fits him as the medic. So I don’t really know how to get rid of the problem here. I guess the best solution is to change other chevrons?

I’m also debating changing his eye color from blue. I consider it with most of the Autobots (and I would the Decepticons, but I haven’t really drawn them), since they almost all have blue eyes, and I want variety. I think Ratchet can still have blue eyes, since it kind of fits, at least with the blue half of the sirens. If I were to get rid of that, maybe his eye color could change, but I’m not entirely sure what to. I know I tried yellow and red, but maybe I need to expand

But yeah, I don’t know. I finished this, wanted to share it. I really do need to get better at figuring out vehicle modes/the rest of the body. Probably need better references than the g1 cartoon