#w: moth to a flame

[nicsalazar]

Moth to a flame || Nicole & Zane

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @rn-zane  & @nicsalazar SUMMARY: Nicole comes to the ER with a cut. Zane's super chill about it. CONTENT WARNING: Medical blood

Eleven. That was the last time Nicole set foot in a hospital. A sprained wrist after a tree climbing accident. She always enjoyed climbing, despite her mother’s numerous warnings. What she first recalled of that day, however, wasn’t her mother grounding her for two weeks (though that did suck), but how much she had hated being asked questions and prodded by professionals, and fuck— did it make her feel like a freak. 

So she decided, after that, that she was done visiting hospitals for the rest of her life. 

It was clear in her demeanor that she didn't want to be here, waiting to get that nasty cut on her arm checked. It wasn't even her fault. And it was fine. But the boss insisted she got it checked. Doing as much as to send someone to chaperone her. A fucking chaperone. Nicole slumped, face wrinkled in displeasure, mind going over incident reports and other paperwork she wasn’t looking forward to get done. She almost missed the nurse that was fast approaching to her side.

Straightening up her back slightly —she wasn’t rude, okay?— Nicole gave a nod of acknowledgement. "Believe me, this is unnecessary. I can just... rub alcohol on it myself" thank you very much, she didn't say.

Zane rarely had much time to do a proper reading on patients before he saw them, usually getting the highlights thrown at him before running to the next bed. This time, he’d actually managed to find a free computer at the nurse’s station, sitting down mostly to get his mind back on track. He wasn’t supposed to be here right now but when the handsome charge nurse asked Zane for… well, anything - his automatic response was an enthusiastic yes. One day, he might end up accidentally curtsying to the man if he wasn’t careful. 

So here he was after his already 16 hour day shift, filling in for a sick nurse and heading into hour 20. And he was hungry. 

The smoothie glass with his shift ‘snack’, very clearly marked with his name and a ‘do not touch’ sticker, had held him off for some time but… besides, his replacement would be here in less than an hour. He had other things to think about, like the - oh, wow - literal firefighter waiting for him. 

Head slightly clearer, he maneuvered past the gurneys posted in every hallway and pulled back the curtain to the assigned spot. A courteous nod to the man standing by the hospital bed was all Zane managed before the patient, the firefighter, spoke up. 

Zane smiled, a soft smile reserved for children and the more nervous of patients. “I really won’t be a minute and from what I heard, you might not even need… stitches…” His voice faltered at the end, eyes dragging to the wound on her arm. It was still weeping blood despite the fabric pressing down on it and the smell wafting up…

He cleared his throat, dragging half of his attention back to the patient. Nicole. Human. Not a meal. “I’m Zane. Do we need to worry about any debris in there, Nicole?” 

Maybe they’d be done soon. And she wouldn’t have to tell Leah about her ER visit. Nicole lowered her gaze, snuffing out the small flame of hope in her chest. Instead her eyes fell on the makeshift bandage, willing to accept –for the first time– that it still seemed to be sticking with fresh blood every now and then. And that couldn’t be too good, right? She tilted her head to figure out a proper answer to his question.

“I— probably” Nicole admitted, jaw tightly clenched before she let out a weary sigh. Some of the tension evaporated in her breath. After all, these people were here to help. No matter how terrifying she found their shiny tools to be. When she spoke again, the edge was gone from her tone. “They patched me up with what they had in the field. We don’t really get too…” she snapped the fingers, fishing for the word in her hazy brain. “Cómo se dice? We just got the basics up there, y’know? But should be clean enough”. 

Nicole glanced at her crewmate, but he remained quiet, as if scared to contradict her. “Someone in handcrew slipped, they were carrying fuel… branches, weed, anything that can—” did nurse Zane need the whole story? She paused, heat rising to her cheeks. “It might be a little dirty, anyway” she concluded, releasing the hold she had on her left bicep, silent permission for the nurse to go ahead and get to work. 

For the first time ever, Zane was relieved to have a nervous patient. Nicole seemed way too preoccupied with her own discomfort to notice how jittery the blood was making him but her guest on the other hand… Feeling like he was getting rid of a witness, he politely asked the man to hang back in the waiting room due to lack of space, which definitely wasn’t a lie. With curtains on every side giving staff just enough space to squeeze in next to the beds, one extra person could definitely fill up the space. 

“Right, I noticed the firefighter thing. That’s really cool, y’know,” Zane started, falling into the habit of talking to distract patients and, in this case, hopefully distract himself as well. “Not sure I’d willingly run into a burning forest, even if I was getting paid for it.” Practiced hands busied themselves with preparing an IV line, his attention focused on the non-injured hand for now as he swiped over the skin of her forearm, tightening a tourniquete. “Small pinch,” he warned, settling the IV needle in place and making quick work of bandaging it down, definitely not entranced for a moment at the droplet of blood that managed to leave the line before he screwed the cap back on. 

“I’ll need to draw some blood, maybe get a little fluid in you. Are you feeling woozy at all?” Turning from Nicole, he busied himself with preparing supplies for the wound, really not in a rush to expose the whole thing to his nose. 

Nicole offered a small, thankful nod once the nurse finally dismissed her chaperone. She planned on slipping past him when she was free to go, but her escape ideas and other petty thoughts were interrupted by the nurse’s voice. Breathing out a laugh, her eyebrows pinched together. “It really isn’t like that—unless you’re a smokejumper… or a hotshot, which I’m not. They’re the cool action heroes” she explained. There was nothing glamorous about digging up a fireline or reducing fuel. “You work in the ER, I bet people think it’s… y’know, stuff out of a movie”.

Her eyes landed on Zane, as much as she hated staring. Nicole’s options were limited in the secluded space. For the first time in the evening, her thoughts went to someone other than herself. Knowing a thing or two about exhaustion, it was easy to recognize the signs on him. So she acknowledged the pang of guilt at her previous behavior, mentally promising to be more cooperative moving forward.

At the sight of the needle, Nicole tried to distract herself by sneaking a look past the curtains. She couldn't really make out anything but white coats and varied colorful scrubs, but it did the job of taking her attention away from her arm as the nurse set the IV line. “No…no. I’m—” fine, she almost said, stubbornly. But the words died in her tongue. No one was here for her to prove a point anymore.  “Not woozy, but— guess my arm kinda hurts” she conceded, bringing her thumb and index finger as close together as possible, “barely”. That part was true, she had endured far worse. Meanwhile, she appreciated the play by play, wondering if that’s what she had needed when she was a kid. No one seemed to explain much to her, referring only to her parents. She could do the whole introspection thing once she was back on her feet. “Right, blood, take it”. She gave him a nod, ready. 

She was talking now, visibly less stressed now that her coworker had left. The answers about Zane’s firefighter inquiry seemed rehearsed in a way, as if she was used to making sure people didn’t think she was an actual hero. It was stupid, obviously, if only judging by the giant cut on her arm that she definitely wouldn’t have gotten working at some desk downtown. “Yeah, your job seems really safe and this definitely doesn’t make me think you’re an action hero,” Zane joked, nodding towards the cut and just as quickly looking away from it again. Keep it together, man.

Smiling as Nicole finally let go even further, admitting to her pain, Zane gave her good arm a soft but comforting squeeze. “Secret’s safe with me,” came the conspiratorial reply as he gathered up the vials, took the samples and set them aside. He was running out of tasks to do that didn’t involve assessing the wound and a phantom heart was starting to beat wildly in his chest at the thought. This hadn’t been a problem any other time, he’d literally gotten covered in blood a few shifts ago and only felt a mild pang, like when you dropped a fresh cookie and realized you couldn’t eat it. Now it felt like a tug, this hunger, egging him on to get to the source of blood and then… what? He’d never bitten anyone, didn’t plan on it and especially not in here. 

So he rambled on as he gathered up the rest of the materials, moving to give Nicole some painkillers. “I remember the first forest fire I ever saw, we were in California and it almost started out of nowhere. The news had all this footage of people doing what the could, helping families from their homes or spending hours cutting down trees and digging ditches, I was pretty much in awe and wondering if would ever be able to make an impact like that. Then when they covered the deaths I realized that a job that dangerous is definitely not my style, I mean, Grey’s makes hospitals look like the most dangerous place ever to work but that’s TV and here…” Zane finally looked up from the gauze he was unpacking, mild horror dawning on his face. “Sorry, I’m… rambling. Let’s get to that wound, yeah? Get you out of here.”

Without giving himself time to overthink it, Zane positioned himself next to Nicole’s wounded arm, removing the material that had previously been keeping her blood where it was supposed to be. It wasn’t too bad, would definitely need a few stitches and a little bit of cleaning up but there didn’t seem to be any damage to muscles or nerves. A small artery had gotten cut, still dripping out fresh blood. Zane swallowed. “You’re going to… you’re going to need a stitch or two.” His eyes were locked on the wound now, gums aching with pressure. 

Nicole bowed her head, shaking it in disagreement. “I’m not!” she doubled down, a hint of mirth betraying her words. The optics were there, she couldn’t pretend they weren’t. If she were slightly removed from her situation, then she could probably see it a lot clearer. She let the topic go, unwilling to agree with him, but unable to find the arguments to persuade him.  Zane, on the other hand, was doing a great job at turning her perception of medical care around. She felt further at ease once he offered a friendly squeeze.

The gentle hum of understanding was the only sound Nicole made as he recalled his memories of wildfires. It never got easier, dealing with families losing all their belongings. Arguing with those who refused to live their livestock behind. And then, of course; the casualties. Civilians and firefighters. It was a lot, but any sort of commentary she made would tilt their previous argument towards Zane’s point of view.

“You’re fine” Nicole never minded ramblers. If anything she always held quiet appreciation for them. It made conversations so much easier. She was a listener, and if somebody else wanted to take the spotlight, well… it was the perfect scenario, wasn’t it? “Getting out of here sounds great, but I don’t mind your chatting” she raised her gaze to offer a reassuring smile, but his face gave her a pause. “Um. Are you—” okay? She closed her mouth, let him gather and prepare what he needed. Meanwhile her mind raced, searching for an explanation. Maybe he was new. Hadn’t gotten used to all the bodily fluids yet. He looked very young. it would make sense. 

Nicole knew direct questions were uncomfortable. Sometimes provided no results. So she had perfected the art of the roundabout. Finding a parallel thread to pull from, until the truth came undone. “Long day?” She tried, instead. Maybe she was doing that thing again. What was it called? Projecting or something. “You look a little rough, is all” Or like you’ve never seen a bloody arm before. Only then, she realized she should be concerned about that. From a logical point of view, not a sentimental one. Because this person was about direct all the pointy things into her skin and if he wasn’t completely comfortable… “Sure we need that? I— I need that, I mean. You think I need that?” she looked pointedly at the suture kit. “I scar pretty well, actually”. She was stabbed in the shoulder once, not a single was stitch needed. But Zane couldn’t know that was because a jaguar had overtaken her body for five years. “Maybe a bandaid’s enough”.

“Hmm?” Lips pursed tightly together, Zane tore his attention away from the wound and looked up, straight into Nicole’s worried eyes. So he obviously wasn’t hiding his raging thoughts well, or at all. She was looking at the suture kit like he’d proposed cutting off the whole arm to make things better and honestly, he didn’t blame her with the way he was acting. “Oh, uh… yeah, extra shift today. Sorry.” Hands working on their own accord, practiced movements dousing some gauze and wiping it around the wound, most of his attention on the opposite wall in the hopes of shutting up the clawing voice in his head. 

“Think I might ask the doctors to stitch it up, actually. Since it cuts a little deep.” He’d done a few sutures in his time here, most of them shallow but sometimes, on the really busy days, a junior doctor would throw the suture kit his way and run off to some other, hopefully more sick, patient. Theoretically, Zane could do a good job of stitching up the wound. At this very moment, though… 

The gauze moved over a nice, clotted part of blood, tearing it away and -joy- exposing even more blood from the wound. Zane felt it before he realized it, the shift in mindset and the distant feeling of his eyes gaining more focus on what mattered. His gaze was downcast, thankfully, as now red eyes were staring down at the wound. “Let’s, uhm…” he stuttered out as he moved to stand, briskly enough to make the stool he’d been sitting on tumble backwards. “I’ll go get them now,” he blurted out, turning away from Nicole and grabbing at the bridge of his nose, which was a mistake with a blood splattered glove still on. “Sorry, I… sorry.” It was almost incoherent, words spoken through gritted teeth as he stood tense for a few seconds too long, willing his body to move. 

It finally did, clattering into the nicely prepped table of supplies and sending a few things scattering to the floor. The brisk walk away from Nicole, away from the temptation, was closer to a run than a walk as he retreated to the nearest bathroom and locked the door, leaving him only with the blood spattered gloves, eyes still gleaming red and head pounding. 

Nicole opened her mouth, deciding to ask a follow-up question. Something that would shed light on why the young nurse's behavior suddenly changed. But he interjected before she could say a thing. His suggestion earned him a frown, and Nicole’s latent annoyance surged up again. A doctor? Wouldn’t that take more time? Time that she absolutely didn’t want to spend in a fucking hospital? She shook her head, making the mistake of clenching her hands into fists. She let out a hiss as her wounded forearm protested the action.

But the pain reined back her anger, allowing her to put things into perspective. Neither Nicole nor this guy were having the best of times, clearly. It was better to part ways. He certainly didn’t look in the headspace to shove a needle into her arm. She sighed. “Ah…Y— sure, whatever you…” her words were cut off once more by his jolting movement. Jesus. She winced at the clattering sound the stool made as it flew back. She sat there, dull ache forgotten, watching this man become an incoherent, twitchy mess. The apologies spilling from his mouth barely registered, as another clumsy movement ended up with supplies scattered on the ground. Oh, the guy had lost it. Nicole almost felt sorry enough to reach out. But she didn’t, because having to wait for a doctor still pissed her off .

His turn to disappear was marked by a flash of something red, but Nicole was too stunted to comprehend any of it. The detail would end up forgotten as she reported the story back to her crew. With the small cubicle now silent, there were no distractions to stop the steady wave of annoyance washing over her. She clenched her jaw, tempted by the idea of bolting.

Well, so much for Zane changing her perception of medical care.

[flintstonegummy69]

togachako au

[gothsuguru]

thank you to the person who requested geto being obsessed w gojo’s gf because the idea of it is DELICIOUS - here’s a lil teaser!

[syncopatedid]

Thinking tl;dr thoughts about how Link Click clicks with the butterfly leitmotif just as well as the other wuxia donghwa because: 1. The Butterfly Lovers:  One of the great Chinese tragic love stories of its time, centered around the romance of Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai who were soulmates but fate kept tearing them apart, and were only able to finally reunite after death when they are reincarnated as butterflies. Much like its theme of ill-fated soulmates, the pair seemed trapped in an inescapable fate that threatens to keep them apart.

2. The Butterfly Effect: Part of the Chaos Theory, the butterfly effect is the idea that small, seemingly trivial events could ultimately result in something with much bigger, unpredictable consequences. Key word here is unpredictable. This very much is a concept that is reflected in this series, on how Xiaoshi's... and later on, Lu Guang's actions, had resulted in changes in the timeline, with the final revelation being that Lu Guang's one action had led to the future being completely altered, but at what cost to follow?

3. Xiaoshi and Lu Guang as yin/yang butterflies: Butterflies in Chinese culture, for the most part, are good omens, symbolizing "rebirth" and "transformation". However, the conundrum is that for transformation and rebirth to occur, it implies there must be certain "loss" or "death". Most butterfly species also have very short lifespans, which directly mirrors Xiaoshi's life cut short. Far as symbolism goes, I see them as a Yin/Yang dynamic, so Xiaoshi would be a black one (like a Black Swallowtail) to Lu Guang's white (like a Cabbage white), but what gels perfectly in my brain about these two species is that not only do they contrast each other in almost every way (size and flashiness?), a white butterfly is specifically thought to represent the spirits of the dead revisiting their loved ones (see also: 1.) and I am alluded, ironically, to the imagery of Guang being the soul from "another world" returning to the past in search of his lost soulmate, and now existing in an alternative timeline, a world where he actually doesn't belong to... and must eventually let go of. Just something to think about.

[pcketknves]

[ paths crossed ] ; a continuation from here for @pennedbymoxiee .

it'd always been pretty easy to tell whether or not someone was bullshitting her . the lilt of a voice , the fear of being caught in a web of lies ; neither of those things present within the woman that was nearly a victim to ellie's wrath . for a moment still did it seem as though hesitation stirred within , the corners of a weary and dry mouth twitching ever so slightly before sucking back a click of disappointment the tongue against teeth .

" okay , " a heavy sigh , though one wouldn't be able to discern if it were out of disappointment she couldn't use this one for info or if it were out of relief she could let her guard down a smidge . " so you're not a wolf ; the hell are you doing all the way out here ? it's not smart — got these so called " scars " running around on top of the wlf and the infected . "

thick were the humidity that seemed to only increase with ellie's incessant pacing back and forth as though she were trying to gauge in her mind where to go from there . gaze never leaving the dirtied tops of canvas sneakers , she'd stop suddenly where dirt and debris would shift 'neath the soles of worn down shoes . with a small pivot did she regard the woman with a steeled gaze , finally being able to take in the view of what could have either been enemy or companion .

" joel — , " she'd pause , eyes quickly shutting as she turned her head away briefly . to speak of his name brought upon her memories she didn't want to relive and a guilt she continued to pile on her like pounds of dirt 'pon a grave . " he used to tell me about the other countries out there in the old world — you're not from here , are you . "

much less a question than it were a statement ; the accent gave it away . her hands found their way to the stable hills of her hips , her mind yet again the tipping scales as she weighed her options . fear and the general distrust of others told her to jump ship ; abandon the idea of strength in numbers , but the crushing desire to not be alone willed her for invitation . a quick and skillful once - over took in the other's arsenal ; prepared despite not being from the U S of A .

" that's not a bad arrangement of shit you got , " her tone lighter now ; as though to apologize for her otherwise vicious behavior from earlier . she'd had the bad habit of never apologizing unless she truly meant it — a sign of her authenticity and her dislike for lying . " given you haven't been bitten yet or at the very least shot dead . . . makes you one of the rare ones . "

another brief pause ; a moment of caution , though she'd thrown it to the wind rather quick .

" ellie , " a bloodied and dirt - riddled hand reached out — what was the point in lying , anyway ? " looking for a girl named abby . got big ass muscles and a braid , you seen her ? "

anything was better than nothing .

[candyn-gutz]

Where did you first found it btw? I assume in a "omg look at his fits" type of post?

honestly i really don't. remember??? but maybe it was from some recs i randomly saw on twt or something...

i first read it when i was uuuhh 14? i think. it was an eye opening experience then. his fits were a big bonus though.

[devotedlystrangewizard]

someone tell me what the difference is between evil durge and heretic rt that makes me really like heretic but feel disappointed by evil durge mmhmhmm

[moe-broey]

LIKE something I think is all of the Askr family are like mirrors. Alfonse is a reflection of how much he loves Sharena and the summoner. Sharena is a reflection of how much she loves Alfonse and how, I think in the autistic sense, I think she mirrors A LOT. Henriette is a reflection of how much she loves Gustav (and seemingly, so severely that that love struggles to reach everyone else). Gustav was likely a reflection of how much he loved Henriette and his father. All of them are performing, adhering to SOMETHING. Their roles, and what seems to be The Correct Course of Action.

[gutterbonestm]

Tattoo design of a moth being singed by candle flame

[boypussydilf]

i GOTTA rewatch hlvrai but i fear that it will once again fling me into the deepest throes of insanity not that that’s a bad thing but like im not ready for that. im busy

[hua-fei-hua]

i think “grief borne of hope” would be an interesting theme to explore.

“i’m sad because i feel as if i have to watch others suffer, because that choice to help is a false bottom i can’t remove. i’m sad because i’m grieving for my underclassmen, whom i fear will follow my example and continue to suffer themselves for the sake of their peers. i’m afraid of giving them the strength to force themselves through trials and situations i wouldn’t wish any of them to undertake. i grieve for the losses they will suffer because i fought in vain for improvement, but all they saw from me was hope.”

the losing captain’s grief. the problems with inspiring hope. it’s such a sad story to tell, and i don’t know if i can answer the question of, “well, how do you solve those problems?”

[orangetintedglasses]

That was one downside to the new hairstyle, a distant part of him mused: the entirety of his face was right out in the open, and he wasn't able to just duck his head or tilt it and hide behind a thick mop of blond locks. No, now the fear on his face was out in the open before he had a chance to try and correct it; plaintive eyes, bright and watery, were clearly stuck on the other man as Wolfwood pulled him closer.

Despite the context, what they'd just been up to... he felt like a child, scared and unable to do anything except stare, listen and be moved by someone else. Someone with more wherewithal in the moment.

Wolfwood said he wasn't leaving; that he didn't want to leave, and this had just been... well, a weird tangle of all sorts of things that resulted in both of them being confused, and hopping on the defensive. And dimly, Vash knew he'd overreacted because of it.

But his heart hurt, now. His body hurt. It felt too stiff, too... tight at the joints, as his arms tried to move to return the embrace. There was a pounding in his head that wasn't there before, or maybe it was-- maybe it was left over from what had happened earlier--

"... s-sorry." was all he could think to say; a ghost of a word that came as his head tipped forward, forehead pressed to the undertaker's collar and spilled those stupid, forecasted tears against his bare chest in big drops.

"I-I... I was weird about it, t-too, I'm sorry..."

Wolfwood throws his sweats back on, not bothering with any other articles of clothing. He fully expects Vash to want him gone, to want space from him, and he's not even sure why. Conclusion leapt to; too far of a bridge crossed.

But then he hears Vash's reaction and his heart sinks in his chest. There's... relief, on one hand, that Vash doesn't want him to leave—if he had to spend the night alone (in a room without a door, no less) it wasn't going to be a great night. There's also concern... if Vash was this easy to set off, clearly he'd been sitting on some unspoken feelings.

He turns around to find the blond right next to him again. There are clearly tears in the forecast, and he feels absolutely powerless to stop them.

Damn it.

"Hey..." Wolfwood's hand automatically reaches out to rub Vash's arm and bring him close enough to hold, "You don't gotta beg or anything. Just thought you'd want some space, is all. I was kind of an asshole, and I didn't really know what I wanted. Just wanted to make you feel good, a-and I mean, in the shower you were... we were... you know..."

The mood from the shower had disappeared—he should have realized it, he knew, he just... he forced it too hard. It wasn't natural anymore.

"I got confused," he sighs, admitting defeat, "And I'd be lying if I said I'm not self-conscious about my lack of experience."

I love you, I don't deserve you, I'm only capable of hurting you.

None of those words are correct for this moment. The first three will come... eventually. Naturally. When their lives aren't at stake, when he's not some kind of walking, talking corpse...

"You didn't do anything wrong, Vash. These things happen, I think, sometimes. It's uh... not like I have experience with this kind of thing either." Wolfwood uses his other hand to scratch at the nape of his own neck anxiously, "I would... really like to stay here, if you're sure."

"Maybe... we can start over once we cool down?"

Wolfwood embraces Vash, holding him closer than he ever has before.

[pcketknves]

[ partnership ] ; a continuation from here for @pennedbymoxiee .

never the question on whether or not lara could handle herself ; ellie had seen it all with her own two eyes not yet viciously taken from her by the hands of anyone bold enough to try . in all of her time trying to survive , she'd found the living more inhumane than the infected . executions , torture methods she'd only seen in the various films she'd watched with joel — humans were the monsters . yet even still with the confidence did ellie find herself wondering if her permission would backfire one day .

one day wondering if she'd lose lara the way she lost him . wondering if she'd be just as helpless to stop it as that day a year or so ago .

" if at any point you wanna turn back around , " she'd murmur , her voice clear despite . anxiously would her hands fidget with one another , tracing the paths of old scars and new scabs . " i won't blame you , but i have to see this through to the end . "

wasn't long before they'd be gone on foot ; it'd be some odd few days before they could be remotely close to abby's last known whereabout . for so long had ellie been tracking the woman like some sort of bloodhound , noting every last location and the precise pathing . from the surface and the outside looking in was it a clear obsession — the need to rid herself the guilt of being helpless to save joel . if she could right that very wrong and solely live with the thought she'd murdered dozens to make it happen , she could live with that .

" i should've done it then , " she'd break the vocal silence , listening to the odd crunch of gravel and the shift of tall grass against her legs and beneath her feet . " i had the chance to beat the shit out of her . . . wanted to make her pay . don't know why i stopped — guess i thought doing it wouldn't have brought him back . she was scrawny as shit , too . fuckers that caught her really did a number on her . but it didn't feel right — i wanted her to fight back . i got nothing out of beating a kicked animal . "

maybe it was a bit much , but if ellie were anything , it was honest .

[pochaccoups]

hhu’s love languages (nsfw)

seungcheol —; biting

oh, how he loves to sink his teeth into your precious skin.

he’ll admit it—it’s a little bit (read: a lot) of a possessive thing. it’s not enough for him to have you face down, ass up, writhing underneath him as he pounds you into tomorrow. he just can’t resist from leaning over you, pressing his broad, sweat-slicked chest to your back, and clamping down on the curve of your neck with his teeth.

it doesn’t help that you say his name so pretty when he does; a breathy, high-pitched moan of two syllables—“cheollie,”—that drives him to insanity.

and it’s not just your neck that falls victim to his bite. it’s his favourite, yes—it’s easily accessible in all of your favourite positions, after all. but no part of you is safe.

when his head is between your legs, he kisses up along your calf, mouths at the fat of your thigh before you feel the soft sting of his teeth sinking into it. only then is he satisfied. only then does he give you what you want: his mouth on your pussy as he eats you out so good it leaves your entire body shaking.

when you’re sat in his lap, bouncing on his cock like a bitch in heat despite the way your thighs burn, his mouth finds your tits like a moth to a flame. they’re sensitive, he knows that, so he’s considerate enough to go a little easier on them, nibbling at the soft skin. he’ll still leave his mark on them, of course, only instead of bite marks he litters your chest with dark little love bites.

he loves nothing more than seeing your reaction to his dirty little habit. when you waddle off to the bathroom and leave him laying there in post-orgasm bliss, a yelp of his name has him grinning and jumping to his feet.

he finds you glaring at the mirror, with your hair a mess and your features flustered from the sight of the perfect teeth indentation on your right shoulder.

“i look like a shark attack survivor! how am i supposed to cover this?” you ask, exasperated.

and the worst thing about choi seungcheol is how hard it is to be mad at him. when he presses himself against you, snakes his arms around your waist, and drops his head to dot kisses all over the mark in question, you find yourself melting into him with an ease like it’s ingrained in you.

eventually, he speaks up, muttering his words into your skin: “don’t cover it.”

wonwoo —; hand holding

wonwoo, your sweet wonwoo. so shy that he gets flustered when you hold his hand in public.

in the dim lighting of your bedroom, though, he’s not so shy. in fact it’s you who’s flustered, your body searing hot, your head spinning from the weight of your boyfriend on top of you.

he’s got you manhandled onto your stomach, kneeling between your spread legs, fucking you like he’s trying to carve the shape of his cock into your very womb. what’s worse is the way his hands, lithe and pretty, take yours, pinning you to the mattress so he can drive his hips harder into you.

“w-wonwoo,” you sob, squeezing and grasping at the fingers that are laced with yours.

“hmm? what’s wrong, pretty girl?” he asks, practically cooing into your ear. “can’t take it?”

“i can,” you whimper, clenching around him, pressing your hips up into his thrusts. to show him.

“yeah, there you go. fuck, take my cock so good, don’t you?”

if you were to try and tell anyone that jeon wonwoo was capable of speaking like this, you’re sure they wouldn’t believe you. the wonwoo who can barely hold your hand in front of others, let alone kiss you? that wonwoo?

it’s the same wonwoo who fucks your face without remorse, who fingers you until you squirt, who eats you out until you can’t feel your legs—that wonwoo. and the best thing about him is that he’ll hold your hand through all of them, even as he abuses your poor cunt, like it’s reassurance. a touch of mercy to remind you he’s still your boyfriend who loves you so much even if he fucks you like an ex.

after all, he is a romantic. what’s more romantic than your pretty boyfriend holding your hands when he’s fucking your brains out?

mingyu —; choking

it may or may not be his habit of playfully grabbing his members by their neck that floods your mind with the idea of being in their place.

you’ve always had a thing for mingyu’s hands, even before you’d started dating him. the sheer size of them, the thickness of his fingers—all of it would have you squeezing your thighs together at just the thought of what he could use them for. (to make you see heaven and above, as you came to find out).

but mingyu is a gentleman in the most literal sense of the word. he’s big, he’s strong, and he compensates for that by treating you like glass. not that he doesn’t fuck you hard when you ask, but putting his hands around your neck is not something that even enters his mind. he’d let himself be struck dead before he’d use his strength to harm you.

fortunately, you’re good at getting your way with him—especially when he’s got his dick buried inside you. every last shred of his rationality goes straight out the window the moment he feels the hot, wet embrace of your pussy around him.

he grabs at your hips, your thighs, your tits; his fingers cling to every inch of your skin to keep himself from falling over the edge of insanity because you’re so fucking tight around him that it’s dizzying.

“gyu,” you moan, and he’s alert in an instant, like a dog called on by its owner, ready for his next command. “choke me?”

his thrusts falter and his features are questioning, yet you don’t miss the way his cock throbs against your walls at your words.

“baby, i don’t know if i should-”

“please, gyu?” you plead, gazing up at him, tightening your thighs where they’re wrapped around your waist. “for me?”

and kim mingyu is many things, but tenacious is not one of them.

when it comes to you he’s hopeless, nothing but a weak fool in love. it’s why he doesn’t stop you when you take him by his wrist and guide his giant hand to sit just above your clavicle. you don’t make him squeeze or anything, you leave that up to him. you just want him to see it, to feel it. to get a glimpse into the fantasy you’ve been keeping from him.

his hips slow, his eyes darkening as he gazes down at you with an affection you’ve never seen from him. gently, his fingers, which almost wrap around the entire circumference of your neck, start to press. it’s barely enough pressure to tickle, but fuck, it’s so hot it sends your eyes rolling back.

suddenly mingyu gets it. adrenaline flushes through his body and goes straight to his cock—it’s a sight he wants etched into his brain forever. your eyes hazy, a tiny, content smile on your kiss-swollen lips, his massive hand gripping your neck as he fucks you with a new kind of fervour. he gets it, and he can’t believe he didn’t get it sooner.

you can see it clearly—how, in just a matter of time, he’ll have his forehead pressed to yours, his cock grazing the spot that has you seeing stars over and over while his hand cuts off your airflow, choking you hard, the way you’ve always wanted.

vernon —; spitting

is it cliche and predictable to assign him this? maybe. but what if he’s not the one doing the spitting?

he’s a little bit obsessed with letting you do what you want with him. it’s not a dom or sub thing—vernon’s an easygoing guy in all aspects of life, and if you feel like sitting in his lap and making out with him until you’re both gasping for air, the last thing he’ll do is complain.

his favourite thing of all is when you ride him. fuck, everything about you is mesmerising; the way you grind your hips over his cock so expertly, the way you brace your hands against his chest, letting your nails rake into his skin ever so often, the way your head tips backwards and your moans spill out in the sweetest song.

vernon gazes up at you like you put the stars in the sky, like you brought about life itself, like he can’t believe he’s the one who gets to see you like this. his eyes, dark, round, and glimmering, are a picture of how enamoured he is with you. he has no idea how crazy it drives you.

it’s natural the way your hand reaches for his cheek, the way your thumb moves to glide over his lips, soft and puffy. vernon falls in love for the millionth time when you dip it inside his mouth, push it gently against his tongue, gathering up his spit on the tip of your finger. it makes his dick jump to be at your mercy like this. his hips buck up into yours, desperate to drive himself even deeper into the addictive heat of your cunt.

you press his mouth open, just slightly, just enough, and lean forward. a pearl of your saliva, of you, lands in the centre of his tongue, and he doesn’t have time to swallow it before your mouth finds his, kissing him with greed. it’s messy—lips smacking, your moans mingling with his, but the thing about vernon is that you cannot get enough of him. even though he’s inside you and you’re skin to skin with and your mouths are connected.

you pull away, your grin cat-like, your attention shifting back to the stretch of his cock as you bounce up and down him with a newfound desperation.

“god, you’re hot,” he whispers, his own lips quirking into a fucked-out smile.

“yeah? you like it when i spit in your mouth, hansollie? so dirty,” you reply.

he doesn’t last much longer after that.

[corallapis]

girl…

[chuuyrr]

KISSIN' AND HOPE THEY CAUGHT US — DAZAI OSAMU

⊹ CW(s): f! reader, suggestive (kissing, touching, and making out in the office), dazai being a menace, established relationship, mentions of marriage, lovesick! dazai

⊹ SYNOPSIS: in which he wants you, and for you two to get caught

inspired by: agora hills by doja cat !

dazai osamu could never keep his hands to himself. he was dazai for goodness sake, and he has no shame, especially when it comes to you.

he enjoys being near to you at work just as much as he enjoys being with you in private. so, dazai takes every opportunity to be with you, whether it's holding your hand or twirling a strand of your hair in his hand while you work on reports, subtly leaning his head against your shoulder, or secretly squeezing your thigh, and he always loves the pink blush that spreads on your cheeks as you whisper yell him about pda.

but that's what makes it so difficult for him; dazai loves you too much to keep you a secret. you were his, and he wants everyone to know who you belong to, as well as who he belongs to.

you were about halfway through the papers given to you by the president when dazai slides next to you in his swivel chair, whining as he clings to your arm, "belladonna!~"

"osamu, i'm busy," you smile and giggle, but you quickly switch up, changing your tone as you sigh and flick his forehead, prompting a tiny scream and pout from him, "busy doing the papers you should be doing, mister."

"oh, come on! everyone has already gone out for lunch, and we're the only ones left here!" dazai grumbles as he wraps his arms around you after rubbing his forehead.

"and you insisted on staying with me! ugh, well maybe if you helped me, we can both get some lunch like the oth—" your eyes widen as dazai snatches the papers from your desk, putting them out of your reach and even causing some of the notepads and pens you had on your desk to roll off.

you gasp sharply, opening your mouth to scold him, but he slams his lips against yours, earning you a groan from him.

dazai's hands reach for your waist as he feverishly kisses you, his warm lips pressing deeply yet eagerly against yours.

you turn your face away, attempting to avoid his kiss as you let out a soft whine, trying to tell him off, "not now, osamu!"

but, alas, he closes the gap between you once more, this time much closer as his hands tenderly slide down and hold your hips to pull you into his lap.

dazai feels you squirm on his lap and finds himself chuckling in between the kisses, but he simply holds you firmly, one hand tenderly carressing your hip and the other now on the back of your neck to hold you in place.

how could he resist such a work of art as you? the way the sunlight from the window delicately highlights your face just for him to admire as your hair frames everything perfectly like icing on a cake, and don't even get him started on how you always smell so sweet like vanilla with your perfume.

dazai loves every single part of you and feels the need to be always closer to you, so he has his attention on you like a moth to a flame as you were a temptation for him.

you're so warm and plush in his embrace, and you can feel his warmth seeping through your clothes as much as his hands tenderly hold you in place on his lap.

"m-mmh, osamu. please—" you try to speak again, but he shuts you up with his lips once more, his kiss a demand as well as a declaration of love and desire.

"hush for a second, pretty girl," dazai's breath tickles your lips as he pulls away just a fraction before his lips were on yours again.

"then stop eating my face," you whine softly, grabbing his shoulders and successfully yanking your face away from him.

"aww, and why should i?" dazai says, smirking as he caresses your hip with one hand while the other glides from the back of your neck to your cheek to cup it, "you're just so tempting my dear."

"w-we're at work!" you stammer, squirming on his lap once more, "now put me down or else we might get caught, osamu!"

"too bad," dazai rolls his eyes at you, pinching your cheek before pulling you by the chin, so you were now nose-to-nose with each other.

you feel blood rush into your cheeks at his proximity, and even more so when he says the following words to you.

"i want us to get caught."

at this point, your face was on fire. in fact, the room—no, everything becomes too hot all of a sudden, prompting you to raise your voice out of surprise, "w-what? are you crazy?!"

"crazy in love with you, that is," dazai winks at you before tracing your cheek with his nose, trailing it down as his breath tickles your neck this time, and his breathy voice sends tingles up and down your spine, making you unable to sit still on his lap, "and you have no idea just how far a crazy man would go for his darling angel."

"your hips are an altar i would worship anytime of the day, my love," he whispers as his hands sensually trail from your neck and waist to your hips, squeezing them as he kisses your neck.

as one of his hands began to slip under your shirt, your breaths hitch and you couldn't help but let out a soft whine, and dazai revels in the feel of your skin as he kisses your neck, writing his love on it with marks and soft groans.

"and i know heaven is a thing because i go there whenever i touch you, and whenever i'm with you, baby," he groans with indulgence as his lips continue to kiss and bite at your neck, his hands slipping under your shirt now, caressing your side, the spot just under your chest.

dazai's emotions were all over the place, but it was desire mixed with exasperation. he immerses himself in the sensation of your lips and body during the heated moment, closing the gap between you with undeniable intimacy.

"fuck, i wanna tie the knot," he says in hushed mumbles, completely in love with you.

dazai lifts his head from your neck and presses his forehead against yours tenderly, his hands now cupping your face at a daydream of you that he has now engraved in his mind, "i wanna see my pretty girl in a wedding dress, walking up to me to be with me til' death do us part."

"and i just wanna show her off. tell everyone she's mine and no one else's," a soft, low growl escapes his breath as he claims your lips one more time with a feverish deep kiss to mark his territory, but this time it comes with a hint of tenderness as he strokes your cheek.

"osamu, we're gonna get caught," you say softly, your breath shaky, your hands still gripping his shoulders as he continues his assault of kisses.

"then let them catch us, sweetheart. you're mine to brag about," you feel dazai's smirk against your lips, and his hands on your hips again, but this time they're sliding down to squeeze your thighs in a firm grasp that causes you to squirm on his lap and wrap your arms around his neck.

dazai then purposefully but playfully bounces you on his lap, causing you to let out a sharp gasp mixed with a whine. suddenly, you hear footsteps outside the office door just as his hands begin to slip further past, and your eyes widen. it was as if he knew your coworkers were about to return from their lunch break, and he did know that.

your heart rate increases with strange excitement and fear. you squirm and try to pull yourself up and away from his lap, but he simply holds you tighter against him, his arms now locking around your waist to keep you in place.

"h-hey, now! let me go!" you whisper yell.

"oh, no. you stay right where you are, my pretty girl. i'm not letting you go," dazai says with a grin, finding amusement in your panic, "nope."

"what are we gonna tell them if they see us like this?! kunikida is gonna scold us!"

"heh, tell em' that we were kissing and hoping they caught us~"

"OSAMU!"

⊹ A.N: happy halloween! ok, but like, after re-reading this and stuff, this was waaaay better in my head ૮꒰ つᯅ⊂ ꒱ა ՞ˎˊ˗